Pretty Lynne Writes

I’ve never been an object of true desire. Certainly men have admired how I look; they have commented on my breasts, my ass, my eyes.

But I’ve never been wanted. 

My first memory of being objectified was when I was 12. Walking home from school, a man at a construction site whistled at me and yelled out that I was hot. The last summer I went to camp, one of the counselors commented on my child-bearing hips. 

I’ve been the recipient of wolf-whistles and seen men do double-takes over and over in my life. I may have had the benefit of pretty privilege at times. 

But I’ve never been seen. 

I started thinking about this recently when I saw a post on Threads about how exhausting it is to be lusted after. That the admiration is for a projection, a fantasy, and not for the real person who has thoughts and feelings and a story and soul of their own. 

I regularly post photos of my body parts on the internet. This started as a way to participate in a body positivity exercise that was specifically with and for other women (I wrote about it here). But soon enough, men found it and complimented me on these pieces of me. 

The vast majority of people are very respectful with their comments. And I have no shame in admitting that I enjoy the attention on my body. I want to be seen as sexy, desirable, beautiful. But I hesitate to show my face or make my name public. 

There’s a cognitive dissonance in this for me. While I want to be seen as sexy, I don’t want to be objectified. While I want to be admired, I also want to be known. 

As a producer of porn, it could be argued that my ambivalence about being objectified doesn’t make any sense. I make myself an object regularly. Some of the material I produce is meant to turn you on, to invoke a fantasy in you. Even my more romantic stories ask you to do a lot of fantasy work by leaving out descriptive details – you may literally imagine the female character in any way you choose. My thirst traps are selective so you see only the “best” bits of me.

You can’t know a person if you only see the curated parts of them. But then again, can anyone truly know someone else? 

Maybe the solution to this problem lies in me owning and controlling what I present of myself. In this medium, I get to decide what parts of myself I allow to be consumed. I get to determine how much of myself is known. 

And honestly, while it is fun exploring this sexy side of me, it’s maybe the least interesting part of me. I’m smart. I’m funny. I love to talk about all kinds of issues. I’m kind. I’m creative. I am a good friend. I’m so many other things. So are you. So are all of us. But sometimes in this smutty realm, our complexities can be forgotten.