Maybe I should change my byline to Life Into Words/Images. As a writer, I never gave a thought to trying out another art form, but since retirement, I’ve been testing my hand at acrylic painting. YouTube has some terrific how-to videos that I’ve benefited from, but there is nothing like good old trial and error. Here are a few recent efforts. I am having a blast!
The Photograph
After my mother died
I found a photo of her
that caught my breath.
She was smiling
at someone, or something,
the answer to that question
glinting off her glasses.
I thought I knew her face
and all its guises,
but this was a smile
I had never seen.
There was her youth in it,
and a weary sort of contentment,
as if her battles were behind her,
or so she believed.
It was a smile that knew nothing
of the years to come,
and all the things she could have done,
would have done, differently.
She was her own woman,
not easy to know or love,
but each time I look at this picture
I want to warn her,
to show her a path more yielding,
and if that’s not love
what is?
So much for the new sex doll brothel. Slated to open this month in Toronto, Aura Dolls met a roadblock after a city councillor denied the company’s right to do business. A sex doll brothel falls under the “adult entertainment” category, which is forbidden in the Willowdale wards. Outraged locals are triumphant over the derailment; others don’t care what happens between a man and a robot behind closed doors. To be sure, Aura Dolls will pop up somewhere.
Depending on the features and customizable options, sex bots cost upwards of $15,000—clearly out of reach for most customers. Aura Dolls are priced at $80 for a half hour and available 24/7; package deals are in development. With six models to choose from, even a modest inventory could soon translate into a fortune. Bear in mind that each doll is meticulously cleaned and sterilized after use. The estimated shelf life of a bot is six months, though some of the more popular models may face earlier retirement.
Those who question the viability of a sex doll rental business might consider the facts. On its website, Aura Dolls states that its “vision is to bring you an exciting new way to achieve your needs without the many restrictions and limitations that a real partner may come with.” In other words, Aura dolls never have a headache and don’t need a safe word. All orifices are fully functional and scientifically enhanced to produce maximum pleasure, reportedly more intense than anything a real woman can offer. The dolls range in age from 21 to 24 and each has an online description that includes ethnicity and descriptions of physical attributes as well as personality quirks. Some are even said to be jealous of other dolls and prefer to be booked in advance.
To ensure privacy, an Aura Doll brothel will feature separate entrances and buzzer-activated exits, and payments will be handled without human interaction. Patrons will not see staff or other customers, though a camera will scan them upon entry. Their chosen “bad Barbie” will be waiting for them in the room, along with the option of music and/or televised porn.
In answer to many requests, the company is planning to add male bots. Presumably these full-size Kens will be as realistic and accommodating as the females. The penis of course will have to offer more than an erection, considering the vibrator competition. Perhaps the mouth will work, specifically the tongue—Aura Dolls is not giving away any secrets at this point.
Those adverse to the idea of a sex doll brothel believe that the industry is degrading to women, that it objectifies them in a literal and vulgar way. In comparison, there have been no complaints of dildos and vibrators dehumanizing men in the same fashion: frankly isn’t a vibrator just a stripped-down male with a few bells and whistles?
Some have no beef with the entrepreneurial angle; it’s the robots that creep them out. What sort of depraved weirdo would pay for intercourse with a silicone doll? It’s true that mail-order sex dolls have been around for a long time, but their cheap artificiality provokes more derision than outrage. Aura Dolls are hyper realistic, astonishingly human-like, and this is where the lines begin to blur.
While robots are being enhanced with memory, speech, voice recognition, even functioning G-spots, human females are working hard to keep up. Between make-up, Botox, face-lifts, tummy tucks, hair dye, weaves, fake fingernails, push-up bras, Spanx and waxes, women are becoming more robotic every day. Men readily accept these improved versions of their spouses and are in fact uncomfortable when reminded of certain realities like menstruation, body hair and the physical tolls of aging. Nor do they have any trouble believing in their own deceptive measures, like the bogus erections Viagra makes possible. And wives, gladly or reluctantly, go along with the prank.
Beyond the possibility that sex doll brothels might lower crime rates against women, the practicality of the dolls, their unarguable advantages, are alarmingly numerous. Assuming the bots are maintained as promised, there is no risk of contracting social diseases and no risk of spreading them, nor can Aura dolls become pregnant. Any kinky proclivities—things a man would not ask or expect of a girlfriend or wife (and might even resent them for)—can be accomplished in complete anonymity with a willing partner who keeps her secrets. And no guilt cause, hey, she isn’t real. It’s the ultimate affair.
On the downside, there are certain hazards to relying on sex dolls to make your carnal dreams come true. These dolls mean business—some of the more high-tech models come with a choice of 40 nipple colors and can talk and even understand their customers. If a doll is real enough to rent, can she be real enough to fall in love with? And what about her talents, those scientifically boosted orifices? How can a lowly wife compete with those? There is also the financial issue. What if a patron begins visiting these brothels with frequency. Will he be able to afford his habit? Will there be interventions? A new subcategory of sex addictions?
However realistic these dolls are, we need to remember they are toys, albeit expensive ones. Our greatest threat from sex doll brothels is not the shredding of moral fiber—our fiber is pretty threadbare as it is. Of larger concern is the degree to which artifice is shaping our lives, leading us farther and farther from the qualities that makes us human. We need to ask ourselves why our bodies and faces are not enough, why we mask and alter them, why fake has become the new real, and if we will ever find a way back.
Last week Honor Jones of the New York Times wrote an excellent article on the yoga pants tsunami. It’s good to know that I am not the only person mystified by the number of women who have decided that tourniquet tight legwear is a wardrobe must. And not just slim women; women of all shapes and sizes pry on their yoga pants and sprayed-on jeans each day and head out into the world, defiant as new parolees.
I don’t care if you have a rockin’ body, I don’t care if you don’t. I’m just tired of seeing so much of you. I never signed up for a free subscription to your ass.
“Yoga pants move with your body,” a woman explained to me, beaming at her thighs, which were shrink-wrapped in a dark gray material splashed with giant yellow daisies. Indeed your body cannot shake these pants; there is no escape.
Every time I see a girl in tight jeans—which is every day, many times a day—I cringe a little, imagining the difficulty involved in sitting, bending and walking. A fashion that limits movement, impinges on circulation and inhibits healthy breathing is not a product that favors liberation and empowerment.
Remember Grunge? Well I do, even though it lasted just half a minute back in the early 90s. Grunge fashion—for both men and women—was characterized by durable and cheap clothing often worn “in a loose, androgynous manner to de-emphasize the silhouette.” Decades later, men are still wearing comfortable clothes. Women, sadly, are not. I guess Doc Martens, loose jeans and flannel shirts did not contribute to the objectification of the female form. If a women’s body is de-emphasized, who will want it? Who will care? What is it worth?
What I recall most from the Grunge period was the way women carried themselves. The sureness of their movements, the nascent confidence. Women were finally realizing that they owned themselves, or could.
There are a handful of Olympic sports that benefit from tight uniforms. When winning is measured by a thousandth of a second, a second skin is the way to go. The rest of us have options, especially those who don’t know they do, who believe that yoga pants and tight jeans are tickets to personal freedom.
Comfortable, gender-neutral clothes are not easy to find, but they could be, and if you want to be your own gal, you might want to give them a try. Things are changing for women now. Here’s to freeing our bodies as well as our voices.
There are ants that tend to their injured
by licking their wounds,
slowly transferring their own health
into fallen soldiers,
sealing fresh lesions against lethal bacteria.
Who can say why a creature as small as an ant
with so many hardy brethren,
would bother to stop—an hour if need be—
and help a troop.
In that tiny helmet of a head
are there neurons of compassion, of pity,
or are these ministrations automatic, instinct,
like the urge to tunnel or serve a queen
(what is instinct anyway
but a word for what we can’t explain?).
Some ants will even evac a battered brother,
not the terminal—those who have lost too many limbs
to the brutal jaws of termites—
but the ones who, with proper attention,
may fight another day.
The medics sense the difference
and do what they can
before moving farther afield,
gifted with the knowing
there is not a moment to spare.
