Coprophagy

I was living in Los Angeles. As it turned out, I had a friend who had a friend who had a scat porn video. I had seen a lot at that point, already, in terms of pornography. Things too numerous to mention, I suppose, if I think about it. But, I had never seen coprophagy. I wrote an email to the guy with the crapping tape. It was a compilation shit vid, he told me. Could I borrow it? I wanted to know. It seemed like a good idea, at the time.

You know. To see what I hadn’t seen.

I watched it by myself in my bedroom. That’s where I kept the VCR. I sat on the edge of my bed. I was real close to the TV-screen. I don’t know why. I was nervous, I guess. I didn’t occur to me to invite anybody over to watch it with me. Maybe, it was a private kind of a thing, for me. Maybe, I couldn’t think of anyone who would want to come over.

The tape was long and abruptly edited. A woman enthusiastically ate poop off a plate with a knife and fork. Gay men in leather forced fecal matter down one another’s throats. The most memorable scene took place in a dark dungeon. A series of men lined up to take a dump on the face of an overweight brunette woman lying down on the floor while an angry older woman screamed at them in German that I could not understand. It was sort of funny, in a way, but it was also very tragic. Finally, one of the men came up, and delivered a giant cow pie right onto the woman’s face. You could see her whole body tense up. The woman had probably had enough, at that point. It obliterated her entirely.

I felt bad. For both of us.

I tried to not feel bad while I watched the rest of the video. It was hard not to feel that way, though. After awhile, it seemed not exactly wrong, but I wouldn’t say it seemed so very right, either.

Maybe a year or so afterwards, I was in England at a private party populated primarily by people whose lives revolved around strange fetishes. As it turned out, the host was a coprophagiac. I spent about an hour talking to him about his practices. He had a specially designed toilet that the women he dated used to go the bathroom in his mouth. He was a very smart man. Very articulate about the things he did. He was not at all ashamed of himself.

I was fascinated. Charmed, really.

It’s hard to know what to think, sometimes. It’s impossible to know what to say to people when they tell you things about themselves, or show you sides of themselves that are hard to comprehend. When they do it, I keep my mouth shut and I listen. They, after all, know themselves.

What do I know?

I don’t know shit.

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