Let me start by saying that I believe, in the most basic sense, there are two types of men in this world: ass men and breast men. At some point during a male’s pre-pubescent years, he subconsciously becomes attracted to one or the other. While we enjoy all of the wonderful features and holes that a female possesses, we are instinctively drawn to one over the other.
I am an ass man. I take pride in the simple joys of life like getting a quick peek at the cute waiter’s backside after taking my order. A nice ass in a pair of yoga pants captures my undivided attention the way my GameBoy did when I was a young tot. As you can imagine, the “twerking” phenomenon of 2013 was one I paid particularly close attention to. But what started as a euphoric experience has quickly become a taxing, psychological issue for me. One that I needed to dive deep into.
Once the initial infatuation of these videos began to fade, I found myself perplexed by the thought process it takes to create one these videos. I viewed a Vine with a young lady playing with herself in the shower and showcasing her body. Instead of thinking “Good lord, she is sexy” my first thought was “How the hell did she record this video on her phone?” That thought led to a series of questions that left me baffled and confused. Was there someone else in the bathroom with her? Were there multiple takes? Was this a private video that got leaked? I was truly lost in a world of succulent cheeks.
Trying to justify this behavior, I thought about how I feel when I post an Instagram picture. Not going to lie, I slightly enjoy the 10-15 likes I can manage with an effective sunset picture or video of my golden retriever playing with a ball. The feeling I get after 10 likes pales in comparison to the thousands of likes or retweets that can be generated from a “twerking” video. She must literally think her ass is worth its weight in gold. I hope its motivating her to do more squats or something, but I sincerely doubt it. She is probably getting home from her community college classes and thinking of new ways to showcase her award-winning ass, spending her hard earned money from her part-time job on new thongs and song downloads.
I have found myself trapped in a world where a nice ass in my mind is expected to be fully exposed and gyrating in front of me. The simple joy I felt from the quick glance of the cute waiter’s ass is replaced by an unidentified hoe and a loop from a Juicy J song. The receptionist in the skin-tight dress no longer impresses me. I have been exposed to a somehow socially acceptable world on the outskirts of porn. I don’t know what’s going to become of me, but goddammit, I can’t turn away.