Pon Farr.

When I was casting around for a name for this diary, I settled on Pon Farr almost by accident. I wanted something a little obscure but that would still convey the fact that I intended to write primarily about sex. Having grown up primarily as a geek (including during that painful pre-adolescent phase that's before it's acceptable - if still not cool - to indulge your geeky side), naturally I was well-versed in "Star Trek" mythology and I figured that Pon Farr was evocative of the kind of writing I intended to indulge in.

For those who had more productive childhoods than I did, "Pon Farr" is a Vulcan term from the Star Trek universe. One of the better Original Series episodes from the 1960's revolves around the character of Mr. Spock. In it, we learn that Vulcans like Spock have a quirk that causes them to essentially go crazy with the need to mate once every seven years. So most of the time they are completely cool, logical, and apparently without any emotion, and then when the seven-year itch strikes they essentially go mad with lust, and will stop at nothing until they get themselves some Vulcan pussy.

I thought that was a good analogy for my life - to those people that know me in my public persona, they think of me as a regular person, a probably fairly uptight one at that. But the readers of this diary know my other, hidden side - the side that at times is completely consumed with the need to fuck, and could fairly be described as obsessed with sex.

Lately, however, I haven't been in a "Pon Farr" phase. It's funny how my sex drive comes and goes. I mean, it's always there, but there are times like now where it's definitely a lower priority. I think I've only masturbated two or three times in the last four days or so, and normally I'm a 2-3 times per day guy (once in the morning, once at night, and then maybe once more if opportunity presents itself or I'm especially inspired). Other times I'm more like poor old Spock when he's got his seven-yearlies - I'll go to almost any length to get laid, and I'm not going to be very picky about who it's with. But not recently.

That's led me to be a lot more introspective of late, so I've been doing a lot of thinking (oh lord, save us all from horny nerds with too much time on their hands!) I had a realization that the basic premise of the Pon Farr - that even the cool, emotionless Vulcans become completely different people when sexually aroused - is more universal than I realized when I began this diary. We all experience Pon Farr in our own way.

What do I mean by that?

Well, I was trying to think of a new story to tell you. I didn't really feel like telling a story about someone new, because I didn't have the energy to write out the whole back story for anyone you haven't already met (one of the side effects of my recent lower sex drive has been less motivation to write about sex here). So I was trying to think about what makes a sex episode memorable (since most of the people you've heard about so far are from years and years ago). Sometimes it's an obvious external factor - the first time something happened, or the last time I was with someone, or the time we were fucking somewhere particularly unusual, or something like that. But other than that, what is it about sex that makes us look back on it fondly, even years later?

The clue was inadvertently given to me in a comment that dukkha-tanha left in response to my Super Bowl story. She wanted to know how a weekend of such fantastically good sex (and oh boy, it was that) could be followed by such a bitter breakup so shortly thereafter.

The answer to that question to me is obvious, of course, because I had the misfortune to live through it. (And I've picked at that particular scab enough lately - I need to let those scars heal back up for a while before I can write any more about my relationship with Elizabeth.) But the short answer is that as happy as the Elizabeth I was fucking made me, the Elizabeth I was dealing with the rest of the time made me equally as unhappy, and probably more so. (The part of the story where she gets Kate to call me up in the middle of the night to tell me that they are having sex was perfectly in character for that Elizabeth - and not at all in character for the Elizabeth that I was fucking during the rest of the story.) It was as if they were two different people.

Then I realize - aren't we all different people when we're having sex? Isn't there always the "everyday you" and the "sex you"? Every single person I've been with is a completely different person when you get them naked and in bed. Mary Anne is a no-shit-taking no-nonsense taskmaster during the day - but in bed she's extremely docile and generally fairly shy. Elizabeth was an eager and passionate lover in bed, but as time went on it turned out that everywhere else she was an evil, deceitful, vindictive bitch. Carol and I have very little in common when we are talking, but in bed we seem to be particularly well-suited for each other and the sex is generally mind-blowing.

There is Pon Farr in each of us. There is the "Vertical Person" - the person you are during the day. Husband, Father, Wife, Mother, Banker, Lawyer, Scientist, Friend, Desk Jockey, Delivery Driver, Babysitter, Business Owner, Customer Service Representative - all the roles we play during the day in our regular lives.

Then there is the "Horizontal Person" - the person you are when you are in bed with your lover(s). Stud, Slut, Whore, John, Pussy, Domme, Femme, Sub, Master, Mistress, Pervert, Slave, Repressed, Ashamed - a completely different set of roles. Like the many role we play during the day, at times we play different roles in sex.

I think because we spend so little time being our sexual selves every day, most people aren't nearly as comfortable being their Horizontal Person as they are being their Vertical Person. Unfortunately, our culture - particularly our puritanical American culture - casts shame on most of the roles that the Horizontal Person plays, making us even more uncomfortable and reluctant to be that person when we're with the person we love. But even so, that is part of our Horizontal Person for most of us, and it's a shame that we have to struggle to accept that part of ourselves in the face of cutural taboo.

I think this may explain why so many of us have trouble in our marriages and our relationships with sex.

Really, to have an ideal marriage, you would have to find someone who is almost completely compatible with you as a Vertical Person and as a Horizontal Person. Given how hard it is to find someone who matches you just as a Vertical, the odds go way down that that person will match you as a Horizontal as well. If you could happily marry, say, one person in a hundred (1% of possible mates would be someone you could live with on a day-in, day-out Vertical basis), the odds that that person would also be compatible as a Horizontal would be just 1-in-ten-thousand (that's making a couple of assumptions, but it's my theory and I'll assume if I want to, dammit).

Yeah, good luck with that. Find any needles in haystacks lately?

So most of us married, or are dating, persons who we can get along with as Vertical People. And most of us are stuck with people who don't quite match us as Horizontal People. So we just have to get along as best we can. With luck and some work, hopefully we can get along well enough to be mostly happy. After all, especially once you are married, how much time do you really spend fucking anyway?

And so, to get back to the point, I think what makes sex so endlessly fascinating is that when we fuck, we get to see a completely different person from the person we see the rest of the time. And that is the basis for so many fantasies, isn't it? The prissy schoolteacher who turns into the cum-gargling slut. The hunky plumber who turns into the clit-licking massive-dicked lover. The unavailable coworker who turns into the cock-swallowing nymphomaniac. They are all based on discovering the hidden Horizontal Person beneath the Vertical Person we deal with every day.

And that's also the basis for so much sexual titillation. Hell, it's the basis for the entire business model of Victoria's Secret. Why are we so turned on by catching a glimpse of a thong peeking out of the back of a pair of low-rider pants, or a flash of lacy bra peeking out of a blouse, or a pronounced bulge in the front of some guy's pants? It's because we're seeing the Horizontal Person behind the Vertical Person.

And that's what I find most memorable about sex in and of itself.

I remember bitchy Elizabeth with her eyes closed, mouth half-open, head thrown back, moaning passionately while I fucked her.

I remember straight-laced, uptight Christine straddling me and riding my cock, fingers pinching her own nipples, practically screaming with pleasure.

I remember assertive, bossy Mary Anne lying open beneath me, helpless as I easily bring her to a quivering orgasm.

I remember nice young Felicity on her knees sucking me like a five-dollar whore.

I remember quiet, mousy Marilyn lying on her back while I straddled her face and she grabbed my ass, pulling me into her mouth, urging me to fuck her face.

I remember those glimpses of the hidden Horizontal Person, and the contrast with the Vertical Person I saw the rest of the time. That's what I remember most.

The good news is that unless Murphy's Law intervenes (and it does tend to do that on a regular basis), I should be getting laid at least once tonight. And I'll probably be getting laid Saturday and possibly Sunday night as well, so next week I should be right back in the saddle sexually - which means more hot sex stories for all you horny bastards out there in Diaryland!

A Return of Regular Action? - 2005-03-31
Patience Rewarded - 2005-03-29
Infidelity... It's Everywhere - 2005-03-25
3 A.M. Eternal (KLF is gonna rock you!) - 2005-03-24
A Different Twist - 2005-03-21