What is up with fetishes? Racial ones, I mean. I don’t care about people who get harder or wetter when stockings or leather are present.
No, I’m talking about the racial fetishes. Our global environment is unique in that we are exposed, on a daily basis (in most large cities), to a plethora of worldwide humanity representing every shade and color in existence. As contrasted with our not-too-distant past, we actually encounter racial specimens quite unlike ourselves regularly. Throw in the static and moving images of cyberspace and the new globalism serves us up a heaping dish of unrecognizable detritus that we cannot relate to but which we can love in all earnestness. I saw a jpeg of an Australian aborigine recently and the woman was really weird looking. She was small, dark, deranged. But she was humanly recognizable enough that I thought she would be good for a romp. I would have done her! I think it’s really unfair to accuse men of being “race fetishists” because we will do anything that moves. Any man who refuses to sex up a biological woman should be castrated. Men just have sex. They don’t, or shouldn’t, examine or ruminate over the source excessively, as if they were trying to decide whether they should eat that disgusting large dessert. Men just do it. Forget Nike. Nike is mimicking the male procreation drive with their lame jingle.
Men get it on and they don’t care if your eyes are almond or blue or wide or narrow or if your hair is black, gray, blond, blue, red, silver, etc. Some of the higher ranking males might have more stringent requirements, but even that doesn’t seem logically determined. Look at what some of these star athletes or celebrities have sex with in lieu of their wives. The cool thing about being a man is that you can close your eyes and pound ad infinitum and no one gives a crap. Women are so enraptured of their own climax that they don’t care. Once a woman gets the beef injection, all upper-level cognitive functions hibernate. Men get away with a lot. Or they should be allowed to!