Never take good porn for granted.
At age 14, pornography was surprisingly difficult to come by. While my friends satisfied their hormonal curiosities with downloaded Japanese "hentai" pictures and the overacted moans of late-night Cinemax, my glacial modem and standard cable package left my sexual fantasies uninspired.
In my desperation, I resorted to drawing pictures of naked women by hand. The task required artistic talent and imagination, skills that were destroyed by a clumsy hand and a childhood in front of the television.
But I figured if cavemen could survive without Cinemax, so could I.
My homemade porn reached the quality of prohibition-era moonshine. The early drafts featured grotesque mutants with long necks, tiny heads and enormous breasts, which, according to their erased and redrawn circumferences, were never quite big enough.
The exhibitionists didn't have much to hide at that point. Sometimes I'd attempt a sexy conversation, but my lack of imagination led to shallow responses:
"I'm not wearing any clothes," they'd tell me flatly. "Why, you're absolutely right. My boobs could be bigger."
It's unsettling to remember these freaks as my first sexual fantasies.
I imagine future anthropologists wouldn't think too highly of me should they uncover the crude hieroglyphics.
"Ah, it appears he disfigured women's genitalia," they'd conclude. "That, combined with his low muscle mass, probably account for his dying sad and alone."
Even at their sexiest, the sketches never aroused me. Like tickling myself with a feather or baking my own birthday cake, drawing my own pornography just felt selfish and predictable.
I missed the outsourced variety's element of surprise:
"I can't believe she just took her bra off! Best Friday night ever!"
The more I tried to be Pygmalion, the more I became Dr. Moreau. Oftentimes I decided a patient was beyond saving and crumbled the paper.
"You can't just leave me without a face!" they'd sob. "I hope your mother finds me."
The fear of being exposed ultimately led me to shred the collection.
At least now I know pornography doesn't work like IKEA furniture.
Crafting beauty is something best left up to the experts: God or plastic surgeons.
