Every once in a while something comes along to prove the cliche that no matter how much one has seen one hasn't seen it all. Last night, that thing was a documentary on BBC America entitled My Car is My Lover. The producers set out to document instances of mechaphilia, a desire to have sex with machines, undoubtedly hoping to find a thriving subculture in which lawn mowers, computers, crock pots, and ipods are violated on a regular basis. Instead, they found Ed Smith from Washington state, a loner who has sex with Vanilla, his white VW Beetle.
How does someone end up transferring their sexual feelings from human to machine? According to Smith, an encounter with a photograph of a classic Corvette when he was 13 changed him this way forever. Through Smith the producers meet Justin, a 20 year-old from Missouri who is just accepting his feelings for cars. Justin believes his romantic leanings stem from his days as a child playing in the yard, with only a rusting car for a companion. When he reached the age of sexual exploration, naturally he'd masturbate in the car.
If I were a hot-blooded American man trying to tryst with an automobile I'd head right for the tailpipe, but Smith seems to enjoy raping every crevice of his vehicle. In keeping with the tenet that the act of observation changes the observed, participation in the documentary seems to embolden Smith. The producers decide it would be a great idea to have these two mechaphiles meet face to face (they are message board acquaintances) at a large automobile swap meet outside LA. When they stop for the night during the drive down, Smith fondles a Chevy Suburban parked in the motel's lot. In the middle of the night, he ravages the producers' rental car.
Justin's first love is his Beetle, but an oil leak forces him to drive to CA in Todd, a Grand Prix he has recently acquired. Justin is more the romantic than Smith; during the journey he slowly falls in love with Todd, admitting at the end that he can't wait to get home to %#*& the $#@* out of it. Alas, on the night Justin and Todd meet, while Todd reclines in a peaceful slumber, Smith has sex with Todd, caught in the act by the documentarians. Both Todd and Justin seem sanguine about this turn of events, but I'm sad that Justin won't get to be Todd's first.
The auto swap meet appears to send Smith over the bend. He's caught on camera wandering the site, randomly fondling, licking, and kissing cars, his erection barely concealed by his baggy chinos. For the record, this section of the program contained some of the best reaction shots imaginable. It was also sad, and creepy, and very American in the way that this kind of thing can only be American, in that only this culture could produce a man who sexualizes machines, acts on those urges, is happy to tell the world, and encourages the 15 minutes of fame that might ensue.
I probably still haven't seen everything. Perhaps this show will enbolden other mechaphiles to come forward. Surely somewhere in this vast land of ours a man is right now, even as I write these words, creeping into the kitchen, lovingly and quietly opening a cabinet door, and ever so gently yet with great anticipation lifting to his breast a stainless steel Cuisinart 4-slice toaster.
Showing posts with label sexual tension. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sexual tension. Show all posts
Friday, April 17, 2009
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
All Hail Barnabas Collins
Between the ages of four and six, my absolute favorite TV show was Dark Shadows. What child didn't love Dark Shadows? It had it all: werewolves, ghosts, time travel, trippy music, even a character (David Collins) who was himself a child. Of course, the real reason I loved the show was because I loved Barnabas Collins so much I wanted to be him. My prized possession was a plastic ring that came out of a cereal box, worn always on my index finger, just like Barnabas. I wanted to be a vampire, pining to be human again. I wanted to live in a gloomy mansion full of secrets.
I have General Hospital to thank for my discovery of Dark Shadows. My mother was hooked on GH, and every day at 3 PM I'd sit with her and watch it. In those days the entire soap took place on the 7th Floor Nurses' Station of a hospital in an unnamed city, the drama revolving around the sexual tension between doctors and nurses. In 1967, Dark Shadows came on immediately after, at 3:30. Although I sat through all the trials and tribulations of Jessie Brewer and Dr. Steve Hardy, my mother had no interest in Collinswood, and abandoned the TV to me.
I was extremely upset at the prospect of going off to kindergarten, not because I wanted to be at home with my mother all day, but because I was afraid I'd get home too late to see Dark Shadows. I remember my mother joyfully telling me that the schedule had been changed, and my show would be running at 4 PM. In fact, this late-day scheduling was the key to the show's success. By 4 PM mothers all over the country had left their seats in front of the TV to begin preparing dinner; during its entire run (1966-1971), Dark Shadows was the most popular daytime program with people under the age of 25.
I eventually matured, as will happen. The Brady Bunch became my favorite show, and I began wearing rings on my ring finger. Looking back, my childhood love for Barnabas is easy to understand. The human world, filled with drama and tears and the sexual tension of the 7th Floor Nurses' Station, was impossible for me to fully comprehend and was a world I observed from the outside. I also pined to be human, and didn't know how I would ever accomplish that goal.
Until the day she died, my mother's favorite entertainments involved doctors having affairs with nurses. I now realize that my love of Interview With the Vampire is just an extension of my love for Barnabas. The story is the same: a scorned lover makes someone a vampire, and then that person spends eternity wishing for nothing more than the human touch. My favorite entertainments haven't changed because every time I think I've accomplished my goal, every time I think I've entered the adult world, I suddenly notice a ring on my index finger and know that I still haven't unlocked all the secrets hidden in this gloomy mansion.
I have General Hospital to thank for my discovery of Dark Shadows. My mother was hooked on GH, and every day at 3 PM I'd sit with her and watch it. In those days the entire soap took place on the 7th Floor Nurses' Station of a hospital in an unnamed city, the drama revolving around the sexual tension between doctors and nurses. In 1967, Dark Shadows came on immediately after, at 3:30. Although I sat through all the trials and tribulations of Jessie Brewer and Dr. Steve Hardy, my mother had no interest in Collinswood, and abandoned the TV to me.
I was extremely upset at the prospect of going off to kindergarten, not because I wanted to be at home with my mother all day, but because I was afraid I'd get home too late to see Dark Shadows. I remember my mother joyfully telling me that the schedule had been changed, and my show would be running at 4 PM. In fact, this late-day scheduling was the key to the show's success. By 4 PM mothers all over the country had left their seats in front of the TV to begin preparing dinner; during its entire run (1966-1971), Dark Shadows was the most popular daytime program with people under the age of 25.
I eventually matured, as will happen. The Brady Bunch became my favorite show, and I began wearing rings on my ring finger. Looking back, my childhood love for Barnabas is easy to understand. The human world, filled with drama and tears and the sexual tension of the 7th Floor Nurses' Station, was impossible for me to fully comprehend and was a world I observed from the outside. I also pined to be human, and didn't know how I would ever accomplish that goal.
Until the day she died, my mother's favorite entertainments involved doctors having affairs with nurses. I now realize that my love of Interview With the Vampire is just an extension of my love for Barnabas. The story is the same: a scorned lover makes someone a vampire, and then that person spends eternity wishing for nothing more than the human touch. My favorite entertainments haven't changed because every time I think I've accomplished my goal, every time I think I've entered the adult world, I suddenly notice a ring on my index finger and know that I still haven't unlocked all the secrets hidden in this gloomy mansion.
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