A Gut Feeling: Anal Pleasure, Holistic Sexual Health, and Interpretations of AIDS
Serena Anderlini-D’Onofrio
Part # 4
“You were going to tell me all about Freud and anal pleasure” I said when G and I resumed the conversation.”
“That’s right,” she concurred. “You were wondering if he tried anal sex.”
“Did he?”
“I suppose he didn’t, not directly at least,” G replied. “At the time a man who enjoyed being penetrated would be considered mentally ill. So Freud would have lost his license and none of his writings would exist. But he might have experienced anal pleasure in sublimated form. “
“How?” I asked.
“Well, for example, if some of his female lovers liked it.”
“Do you know that some did?” I probed.
“To be honest, I don’t,” G replied, defensive. “But many took the hint from him.”
“For example?”
“My parents,” she said. “They were from the generation that heard about Freud’s writings when they were still forbidden. They grew up during Fascism, when many good books were off-limits. But people heard about them. Then, when Mussolini was defeated, they all rushed to read those forbidden books.”
“Forbidden books,” I commented.
“Right,” said G.
“Like yours,” I teased.
“Exactly. I am also the author of forbidden books. I take pride in it. It gets intelligent people to want to rush and read them. But that’s for another story,” said G, rhapsodic. “Let’s stay on topic now.”
“OK.”
“My parents read Freud and used to joke about anal pleasure in relation to bowel movements.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, when we were kids, we had a large bathroom with a wall-to-wall mirror. We all used it, and, as you know, no locks were allowed, so someone could be sitting on the toilet when one walked in.”
“Pushing?” I taunted.
“Yeah . . . pushing—sometimes,” she giggled. “We had a family joke about how one’s voice sounds squeezed if one talks while ‘doing it’.”
“Sure . . .” I considered, “you’ve told me about that peculiar clothing-optional family of yours.”
“Have I?” G asks, curious. She often gets confused about what she tells. One has to be a bit guarded with her kind of background, especially a foreigner.
“Yes you have. There were no locks on the bathroom doors and your mother was very beautiful--your father a bit more scrawny and skimpy. Why are you thinking about it this time?”
“If you caught my father while doing number two, he’d tell you what a pleasure it was to have a bowel movement. ‘Ah, what a relief,’ he’d say, and add a comment about how psychoanalysis approved of this--since Freud confirmed that anal pleasure was deeper and richer.”
“Was your father gay?” I teased.
“Not that I know of,” she giggled. “Besides,” she continued, eager, “let’s not define anal pleasure as gay, ok? It was common in the era among people who’d read Freud to be familiar with his theories about anal pleasure, and how feeling this pleasure was good for the rectum, even if just in the context of bowel movements.”
“Wouldn’t that inspire one to experience anal pleasure in sex?” I probed.
“Yes, but being receptive was not admissible for a man,” G replied, defensive, “and so one would sublimate that experience into proposing anal sex to one’s spouse.”
“Did your father do so?”
“I’m not sure. But my mother was more of a constipated type than he was, and off and on I’d hear him tell her things like, ‘oh, if you were less inhibited (sexually), you’d be less constipated too,’ meaning, ‘if you started to experience bowel movements as anal pleasure, you’d have more fun with them and maybe you’d let me play with your ass too, which might further help with your constipation.’”
“I see, so it was a bit self-interested,” I pondered.
“What do you mean?” G asked, defensive.
“Well, maybe your father was too inhibited to try anal sex as a penetrated partner, and wanted your mother to submit to him.”
“My mother would not submit,” G reacted, incensed. “She’d decide what to do. And he was only trying to propose something new to her.”
“Do you think she agreed? I mean, did she do it?” I insisted.
“I don’t know,” she replied, sad. “My mother didn’t live long enough to tell me. When she died of cancer I was only 13.”
“Oh. I’m sorry to hear,” I offered.
“It’s way back now. It really hurt me then. But I’ve healed. She was a very progressive woman. Told me everything about how babies are born. Even so, she would not have talked about anal sex with a child my age.”
“Sure,” I agreed. “And you don’t think your father’s comments were damaging to her?”
“Well, they might have been, if he insisted too much, or made fun of her,” she conceded. “But to be honest, I feel that was part of family banter, an in-joke if you will. At times she did complain about constipation and he only meant it for her to benefit too. “
“Perhaps she wanted to try out anal sex but constipation made her feel squeamish,” I offered.
“Exactly. A bit of a Catch 22. If you consider. She was 48. It was her colon--it betrayed her. That’s where the cancer grew. It killed her,” G concluded, confident.
“Ouch!”
“And over the years, as I was coping with the fear that I’d end up like her, I kept thinking of my father, the way he took pride in the anal pleasure of his bowel movements. After all, he was not constipated and he lived to be almost 80.”
“Ok. And how does this relate to you?” I asked, puzzled.
“Well, when my long-time boyfriend proposed anal sex, back in graduate school, I said yes. I was curious. We lived in California, the gay Mecca where ‘sodomy,’ the practice of anal sex, that had been so demonized back in the Middle Ages, was becoming the great rage--the thing to do.”
“Aha.”
“So I did it. I was afraid. I trusted him. He went slowly. He excited me properly so my system would gradually open up. And there I was. I realized why Freud called this the richest, the deepest pleasure there is. In fact, I felt sorry for my boyfriend who could not experience it.”
“No Carol Queen videos back then.”
“No.”
“No Tristan Taormino guides to anal pleasure.”
“No. This was in the early 1980s, before the outbreaks that came to be known as AIDS. I love Bend Over Boyfriend, and I’ve learned a lot from it. There were no sex-positive educational videos back then, only plain porn.” [1]
“Did this anal sex have a good effect on your rectal ecosystem?” I teased.
“Good question. I’m not sure,” G giggled. “The system worked quite well then: I was young and of course everything about good health seemed easy. But over the years, staying in good health became more difficult. It required more effort. And as I became more holistic, I started to relate to my ass as an erogenous area on a regular basis. I invited partners to stimulate it, and often did it myself. It was now an area where I regularly experienced pleasure. That helped me feel good about my gut and keep its elimination function active even when I had not yet found the right diet yet.”
“What kind of diet would that be?” I probed.
“Well, you know. I don’t use medicines, and so I rely on nutrition to regulate my health. My food is my medicine, and I stay tuned to the ecosystemic needs of my body. Now I do mostly raw foods, and also, often, liquid foods, including juice fasting periods to detox the system.”
“So, do you get an anal orgasm when you have a bowel movement?” I asked, curious.
“Uh?” Giggled G. “Not quite an orgasm, dear. But a sense of pleasure. And you?”
“Me too. I like to feel my gut active in its metabolic function. I feel connected to it. I integrate it in my holistic sexual health maintenance,” I offered.
“Good. And what about anal sex? Do you enjoy it too?”
“I do. But in moderation. And only when I’m very aroused in a natural way and with a lover who is very, very careful about me.”
“Right,” G approved, blissful.
“So, when you heard about AIDS Dissidence, did it ring a bell for you?” I asked.
“Of course it did, and I’ll tell you all about it in a few days.”
[1] Carol Queen. Bend Over Boyfriend. N.P. N.D.
