Jungle Fever

Primal, baby.
Why is it so wrong? You wanna wager on how many women lusted after our buddy Tarzan here in 1938? Oh, I think between him and Errol Flynn in Robin Hood, Fantasyland was fully booked for the last half of the Dirty ’30s.
I’ll make you ululate, Tarzan, just watch me.
When I’m comfortable with a man and trust him, getting primal isn’t hard at all. But when I first get to know him, I have a hard time letting him see that side of me. It doesn’t really take long, just usually not the first time we have sex. It’s not that I don’t want to show that side to him, it’s just that I have concerns he’ll view me as only that kind of a lover, and that’s something I don’t want to see happen. Sigh.
It’s all so very dumb. It really is.
We’re warm-blooded, and some nights, downright hot-blooded. We’re animals. We’ve just forgotten how to behave like them.
On the African Savannah, on Antarctica, on any stretch of terrain anywhere in the world, animals are being called to their natural needs, copulating en masse, enacting species-specific mating rituals, and doing everything they can to climax. It’s the call of the wild, and we’re the only fucking species that ain’t answering.
Our modern take on the call of the wild? A kiss, a grope, some humping on the couch, and some fumbling, and some wham-bam-thank you-ma’am.
Unless, of course, you remember you’re an animal and that a heart pounds hard inside of you, then maybe, just maybe, you’ll try to break the kichen table.
Of course intimacy is incredibly important. Eye contact, deep kisses, endless caressing, it’s all very important, but so too is throwing down and fucking furiously on the living room floor, with or without the blinds closed.
Look around you. Look at the world around you. Look at the road rage. Look at the office rage. Look at all this bullshit where we see true rage and fury emitting from people, over the stupidest, most inconsequential things.
We try to deceive ourselves by saying we live in a civilized society. We think the right Prada bag or the proper choice of vehicle will somehow elevate our status, and with it, quell the beasts that dwell within.
It’s bullshit, of course. We’re not civilized. Watching any newscast will prove it. It’s out there, it’s on every street — the animal within. But we fool ourselves well.
This time of year, though, it’s a little harder to make the primal-within sit down and behave.
Know that little bit of weariness tempered with exuberance, the feistiness stirring within? That’s cabin fever. The awakening of all of us as the season progresses. Spring’s rising, and with it, so are our temperatures. Pheromones abound. Please do not feed the hormones.
We want to be good people. We want to respect others’ rights. We want to be gracious, caring, passionate, but there are too many people who feel there’s no way to balance being that with being a primal lover who growls, bites, scratches, and moans like they’re howling at the moon. And as crazy as it sounds, it’s absolutely possible to play both roles – on the same night, even.
Being that lover, though, is a hell of a lot better than going to therapy. Getting that need, that primal, down-n-dirty need out of your system does a hell of a lot of good for someone. Some people do it through S&M, with pain or humiliation being involved. All right, fine, not my bag, but that’s cool. Me, I’m one of the “put some tribal rhythms on and let’s go native, baby” type who’s into jungle-fever lovin’. It’s the one kind of sex that leaves a lover absolutely satiated. Worn out, thankful, and thrilled, it’s the best experience I can have, some days. It’s not something I could do every time, but my god, I’m unlikely to pass it up, too.
I try to think of it, I try to understand, and I just can’t fathom it. What is it like to be unable to admit to what lies in your heart, to admit you have a primal beast within? How do you tell yourself that vanilla is all you really want, that a little taste of something exotic doesn’t appeal? How can you kid yourself and pretend those dark places you know you have aren’t really there? What must it be like to force yourself to live a mundane, safe little life where you never, ever push the limits to see what you can or can’t do, or better yet, just how good all that pushing can feel?
You know, primal sex is the lover’s equivalent of extreme sports. If you haven’t bought your ticket to ride, well, you won’t believe the rush you’re missing.

4 thoughts on “Jungle Fever

  1. vagueBoy

    Thank You!!! For pointing out what so many people forget. These days people think of themselves as evolved and beyond such things. What most fail to realize is that Inscinct is still a very powerful part of our lives. Whether it is concious or subconcious we are very much instictual creatures. When we fight that part of ourselves we also lose many other aspects of ‘us’ as well. In this society there is a lack of true free speech. That would require not fearing what the masses think. Sure you can say it or do it but in the end if its not of the popular opinion you can lose everything. Just need some brave voices to get things rolling. I could go on and on but I’ll stop. Best of luck to you on your private ventures. I have my own Ideas and know what its like to get caught up in the rest of the world’s crap and see those dreams begin to slip. The only choice is to grab them back and Run with it. The only true failure is not trying at all.


  2. scribe called steff

    Thanks, VB. 🙂

    I think the quelling of the beast within is proving dangerous — I think it accounts for why people are dealing worse with their anger than they have in the past. There are other factors — technology, the pace of modern life, etc — but being primal can actually be a release valve, I find, and to quiet that, to repress that need for release, that’s what exacerbates shit… in my humble, non-professional opinion.

    But many, many brave voices are needed. It’s sort of ironic, all this anonymous sex blogging… most of us are on page with what’s needed for society to grow the hell up and see sex for what it is — far more than what society presently sees it as — and the thing we need most is for people to lose their shame. Yet, all the people speaking, we’re all anonymous. Why? Because we know the machine we’re up against, and we know the judgment that will result from it.

    Yes, sadly ironic. Weird world.

    Thank you for the comment.

  3. vagueBoy

    Yes. I’m running 5 sites. 2 of them are non profits arts & edu, 1 a business idea … if i thought for a minute that vb would hurt those, i’d tear it down without blinking…and yet its the one I post on the most freely…not my personal writer’s blog.

    sad indeed…but i’m working on it
    sometimes 1 voice can make a difference
    i’m going to at least try

  4. scribe called steff

    sooner or later, something’s gonna spur the public dialogue. the more voices there are, the more chance there’ll be that someone, somewhere, says the right thing at the right time to spark real, pure, honest public debate.

    we need to remember how far we’ve come in the past few hundred years, though. we think things should happen so quickly, yet we forget we’re just a blip on sociological history.

    the media’s sped the shit up a bit, but really, it’s gonna take some time and some patience and some really, really passionate people to stand up for their beliefs — whatever they believe. i don’t care if the issue is gay marriage, abortion, polyamory, whatever. if you believe what you believe, start fucking saying so.

    in this age of oprah — smile on your brother man come on let’s love one another kinda time, it’s amazing how shut off we are to our inner voices, yet we wanna think that watching Dr. Phil and Getting Real’s gonna some how patch up that curiously gaping spot within.

    nah, we’ve just soothed the savage beast too fucking much. it’s like the lion in the zoo. anyone’s got to know there’s something primal there, but out of his element and quelled such as he is, the beast is but a shell of the bastard he once was on the Savannah.

    how is it we’re stuffed into cubicles, wearing pants too tight, and ties and shoes that cater to looks, not efficiency, yet we’re not empty, sallow critters like the caged beast?



    because that’s exactly what a lot of folks are. it’s really, fucking sad.

    ah, well, there’s a little rant there.

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