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Aphrodite Incarnate—The Birth of a Whore, Part 2

Sheena Rheed

Updated: Mar 22, 2024

When I arrived at the end of my previous article, I became acutely aware of the all-too-familiar sensation that, perhaps, I had bitten off more than I could chew, metaphorically speaking. However, after some reflection, I believe that this sensation need not be necessarily problematic. It simply means that there is more work to do than I initially anticipated—more "chaos to order," if I allow myself to quote Dr. Jordan Peterson. Much of this sentiment arose because, after writing nearly three thousand words in the previous post, I realized that I had barely even begun to scratch the surface of unfolding the details of my own story; and yet, spending that word count to establish that framework was necessary, I believe, for it is only within the context of a meta framework that the anecdotes of my personal experience could ever possess the meaningful weight that they ought to carry. In that regard, I am reminded of the opening sequence of Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance by Robert Pirsig, when the narrator uses the word "chautauqua" to describe the methodology by which he sets out to encapsulate the labyrinth of ideas that he carries around with him, desperately begging for articulated release.



Absolutely required reading for anyone interested in living a meaningful life...


Pirsig is not the only one I've observed to reference this type of expository method, and I've had the good fortune to witness men I regard to be of great prescience and understanding allude to the hubris of the Western mind (Pirsig would probably call it the "Church of Reason") to expect deep truth to exist in an organized state by default.

"That itself is a poisonous twentieth-century attitude. When you want to hurry something, that means you no longer care about it and want to get on to other things. I just want to get at it slowly, but carefully and thoroughly..."

Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance

William Morrow Modern Classics edition

Page 28

There exists a verb in Chinese, pronounced as "pūdiàn" (铺垫), which is very appropriate to use here. The semantic meaning simply describes the act of laying out a mat, presumably to either sit on or lay on, but the practical meaning describes the often laborious process of providing necessary background information. All of this is simply to say that patience is key, because the task of proper self-introduction is more than simply regurgitating an autobiography ad hoc from my résumé. Pirsig has a very similar problem when his narrator tries to introduce the enigmatic character of Phaedrus to his audience.

“...but to get at Phaedrus, this oblique route is the only one to take. To describe his physical appearance or the statistics of his life would be to dwell on misleading superficialities. And to come at him directly would be to invite disaster.”

Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance

William Morrow Modern Classics edition

Page 81

A principal question of particular interest to many in my audience has hitherto remained largely unaddressed: just why exactly did I so willingly become a whore? In my previous article, I established the authenticity of wanton female sexual pleasure, which in turn has very predictable implications regarding the question of libido, because the raging presence of the latter would seem to suggest the potential to attain the former. And while, yes, it is indeed true that, to put it bluntly, I am functionally in a continuous state of arousal, understanding how I've come to sell my body so willingly requires us to go deeper. Now, to be sure, there is an indelibly lesbian component to this story; however, for the sake of keeping the conceptual landscape that we must navigate clear and free from unnecessary pollution, I will focus on a more male-oriented context for the time being and return to the lesbian component in a later article as we meander our way through my own attempt at a chautauqua of sorts.


Let us begin with a basic premise: being an excellent sex partner does not automatically qualify an individual to be an excellent romantic companion. Bluntly declaring this outright appears so painfully obvious that it almost seems absurd to state out loud. However, to be fair, much of what common parlance now refers to as the "red pill" movement—advanced by such infamous online personae as Rollo Tomassi and even the Tate brothers—has served to push this idea into much of our contemporary zeitgeist, albeit in what I would argue to be a narrowly truncated form with unilateral emphasis on female hypergamy, which I by no means suggest or imply does not exist. The sheer volume of academic literature on this subject—particularly regarding evolutionary pressure on human development as a result of female sexual hypergamy in contrast with our other primate cousins, like the bonobos and the chimpanzees—precludes me from taking such a position. However, I believe it temporarily enough to suggest that establishing sexual pleasure and sexual compatibility as a sufficient condition for romantic partnership, particularly in the context of a monogamous relationship, is a predictable recipe for disaster, regardless of whether one is male or female—though my more thorough criticism of default "red pill" formulations, particularly those suggesting that men are somehow immune or inoculated from relational disaster resulting from deifying sexual compatibility über alles, will need to wait for a later time. Establishing this principle to be true beyond the strict confines of female sexual hypergamy only requires a brief moment of consideration. Even normal men (i.e. not "Chad" from 4chan) will only tolerate so much heinous and toxic behavior from a sexually accommodating woman before the strain and tax on quality of life is simply not worth the sexual access anymore. This sexual-gratification:asinine-behavior ratio much more effectively explains the situation in which I found myself during my mid-twenties, rather than the Tomassi-esque "Alpha fucks, Beta bucks" catchphrase (viz. Women actively use two independent standards—that do not cooperate in any way—to determine who to sleep with for genetic fitness and who to marry, and eventually cuck, for material stability).


Within this context, understanding the position in which I found myself after graduating from university should be easy to understand: I was no longer willing to compromise on my principles for the sake of access to sex. Specifically speaking, I could no longer overlook problematic behavior in the people I was bedding and simply pretend that it was not a big deal and simply "be casual" about pathology. Dr. Jordan Peterson often instructs his audience to "speak the truth into existence," and that confronting the terrifying power of unspoken Chaos with truthful speech is one of the most significant acts of courage that an individual can take, because it is predicated upon the faith that whatever happens as a result of speaking the truth—no matter how scary—is ultimately good in the long run. However, Dr. Peterson also talks about how people generally dislike getting "poked in the axioms" (which is one of my favorite one-liners from him); and to wit, I have personally observed many instances when individuals, after fucking them for a period of time, get irritated and defensive and ultimately drift away when I try to confront them on their persistent decision patterns that consistently neglect their best options; or, in other words, failing to treat themselves "...like someone [they] are responsible for helping" (12 Rules for Life: Rule #2).


...this book, too.


Now, initially, after a brief moment of consideration, these descriptions might sound somewhat odd, because, as everyone knows, women are the gatekeepers to sexual access, and particularly so in the context of casual "hookups" outside of monogamous expectations. Even Dr. Peterson explains in one of his lectures that we speak of "Mother Nature" as being "female" because "Nature" is fundamentally "that which selects" (and the fact that we speak of "Father Time" as being "male" is also extremely telling, but that's commentary I definitely need to save for a separate article). Ergo, the "game theory" incentives of my situation would seem to suggest that, at the point when the person I'm fucking begins reacting acrimoniously to truthful speech, all I need to do is proverbially "show some leg" and there will immediately appear an entire queue of very attractive and sexually appealing men who would be more than happy to satiate my sexual hunger; and, to be sure, that is indeed technically correct. However, this type of strategy, I would eventually come to realize, had its own concomitant costs and risk profiles that I needed to navigate.


Because I am a woman—and a very small woman, at that—casual encounters with strangers or distant acquaintances, especially under the explicit pretext for animalistic sex that might indeed become quite rough, simply pose dangers to me that most men do not need to consider. Thankfully, as a citizen of the 21st century, I am largely spared the looming dread of STDs and unwanted pregnancy that lowered over the heads of women who lived prior to the mass availability of factory produced condoms; however, the fact of the matter is that I am no match for a man motivated to physically harm me, especially when we're naked and alone (which makes the current controversy surrounding the presence of "trans-women" in women's sports all the more ludicrous to me). Men and deluded city girls have a tendency to forget what a scary place the world is for women. Men, as it stands, go into the world facing a wide variety of dangers, but at least they go forth metaphorically armed (and sometimes even literally) against the monsters who prowl in the shadows. Men have a tendency to forget that it is very common for girls to get antsy about carrying weapons and self-defense equipment, because we often ask ourselves: is it probable that a man would be able to overpower me and use this device against me before I could effectively deploy it?


Dr. Camille Paglia, in an interview with Bill Maher, had the following to say (the parts particularly relevant to this discussion I have indicated in italicized bold):

"As I have repeatedly argued throughout my career, sex is a physical interaction, animated by primitive energies and instincts that cannot be reduced to verbal formulas. Neither party in any sexual encounter is totally operating in the rational realm, which is why the Greek god Dionysus was the patron of ecstasy, a hallucinatory state of pleasure-pain. 'Yes means Yes' laws are drearily puritanical and literalistic as well as hopelessly totalitarian. Their increasing popularity simply demonstrates how boring and meaningless sex has become—and why Hollywood movies haven't produced a scintilla of sexiness since Sharon Stone uncrossed her legs in Basic Instinct. Sex is always a dangerous gamble—as gay men have known and accepted for thousands of years. Nothing in the world will ever be totally safe, even the plushy pads of an infant's crib, to which feminist ideologues would evidently wish to reduce us all."

To borrow from some of Dr. Paglia's terminology, I too alluded to the power of "primitive energies and instincts" in my comment about giving Nature her due in reference to Asa Akira's impeccable work. Something similar can be said here, too. Forcing the act of fucking—a word I'm very purposefully using here to harness the fierce implications of sex outside the parameters of monogamous romance—to be a strict byproduct of articulated reason is to utterly castrate it and pillage the sexual experience of any and all hedonistic value (which is a problem I experienced first hand and, as a consequence, was left utterly disappointed and unsatisfied—more on that story in a later article). If I tried to attain "safety" by concocting methods of robbing men of their sexual aggression, that would fundamentally be an error, because such a strategy would be completely divorced from the profundity of the forces at play. In this situation, I too needed to give the power of Nature her due. Indeed, the entire point in all of this is that I, as the woman in the equation, am the very recipient of that sexual aggression. When a rugged man multiple times my own strength pins me to the bed—with my arms above my head and my legs pried open—relentlessly thrusting his girth into my holes, Dr. Paglia is absolutely correct to say that he is indeed animated by something beyond the rational realm as he drags us both into—as Dr. Paglia again very aptly puts—a "...hallucinatory state of pleasure-pain."



My clients know I love a good thrust...


What I needed at the time was a set of strategic rules and parameters that would, metaphorically speaking, enable me to contend with Dionysus without committing Icarus' mistake and thereby invoke my own perdition, so I looked to the anonymous gay sex scene (i.e. "cruising" in gay-culture parlance) because homosexual men were the only ones in my observation who were embodying an intuitive understanding of what was at stake and what needed to be navigated. Of course, there was the security issue that I already mentioned, but also, when finding a person with immense sexual compatibility, it is extremely tempting to continue returning to that person's bed, which can be painful once the arrangement needs to end, and that's assuming that the individual in question is not a psychotic who will attempt to spin some web of manipulation and/or blackmail. Unfortunately, my understanding of these metaphysics at the time was not as comprehensive as it is now—and even now, I do not claim that my understanding of these archetypes is complete, which ultimately is more of a commentary on how much I was fumbling through these decision principles at the time. To make matters worse, my gay friends were unable to offer me any kind of actionable guidance because their own understanding was not articulated, and I myself did not know how to ask the proper questions.


I was able to eventually cobble together a general set of guidelines, like meeting a man in a public place before going back to his residence, never bringing strangers home, avoiding getting drunk, etc. However, I found that if I waited too long to have sex, my sexual hunger would make these rules become more and more difficult to follow, and that is where I would make mistakes; and when you start making mistakes—like a roulette wheel spinning against you—it's only a matter of time before the penalties eventually catch up to you; and catch up to me they eventually did...


End Part 2


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Brooklyn Bob
Brooklyn Bob
Feb 20, 2024

Dr. Paglia's "...hallucinatory state of pleasure-pain" morphs into a diabolical conundrum as one ages, more so I believe, if you are a male of the species. What drives the animal instincts are ever-present in the brain, however as aging takes place, the physical manifestations of those instincts are very often way less than you want them to be. Therefore, as one ages, we look back fondly at younger times and look for ways to still fulfil those animal instincts. Bravo, Sheen on two great pieces of writing.

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