- Coleen Singer, Sssh.com Porn For Women and Couples

When it comes to sports, I’m neither a fan nor a hater thereof, meaning I sit somewhere in the midpoint between enjoying the inarguably impressive displays of athleticism and wanting someone to smack upside the head many of the entitled egotists who offer up those displays.

When it comes to the annual “Big Game” in pro football, though – the one I dare not call by its actual moniker for fear the NFL will sue – I’m not on the fence, one bit. 

Long before the coin flip, well in advance of the national anthem being lip-synched by whichever pop or country music star has been drafted to deliver it, I’m already so sick of the hype, I’m left with no desire to watch the game itself.

In this sense, the Big Game is a lot like bad porn; after a lot of buildup and the promise of something mind-blowing and exciting, what I get is a whole lot of the same old thing, followed by an anticlimactic finish in which someone ends up with a bunch of egg (or semen) on their face.

Too Much Foreplay vs. Not Enough

There are some major differences between porn and the Big Game, of course, especially when it comes to foreplay. 

In a lot of porn, there’s no foreplay to speak of, but in the NFL, there’s two fucking weeks of the stuff, albeit with very little kissing and a lot more stroking of egos than genitals.

By now, everybody who cares (and I’m not sure who that would be) knows what Cam Newton thinks about Peyton Manning, what Peyton Manning thinks about Cam Newton, and to some extent, what Peyton Manning thinks about Al Jazeera.

With two weeks of no football to play, but plenty of time for league-mandated talking to reporters, interested viewers also know what one of the Carolina Panthers looks like when wearing a Mexican wrestling mask and why he has a “beef” with some guy nicknamed “Prime Time.”

In porn, on the other hand, and especially in ‘gonzo’ porn, we usually don’t get to know too much about the people who are about to fuck, including in many cases, who they are and what led to them fucking in the first place, other than the obvious fact they’ve been paid by a porn producer to do so.

In defense of the lack of story development in porn, my hunch is most gonzo porn fans don’t much care what sort of interpersonal dynamics preceeded someone’s butthole being gaped wide open – and I’m sure the same can be said of football fans with respect to what size panties a player would wear, if he were to wear women’s panties.

For All the Hype, Same Old Same-O

Look at just about any promotional material or box cover for just about any porn movie, and you’ll probably see quite a lot of marketing hyperbole. Take this synopsis of “Peter Pan XXX: An Axel Braun Parody,” for example. We’re told the director is “legendary” and that the movie is “an exciting, exhilarating, unforgettable erotic adventure!”

Of course, it’s always possible the word “legendary” is just part of Braun’s job description at this point, seeing as how it appears in synopses of several of his other films, like “Batman v Superman XXX: An Axel Braun Parody” (which features “an extraordinary cast of hot characters” and reportedly is a “highly erotic and totally epic spoof”) and “Avengers XXX 2: An Axel Braun Parody,” which is (naturally) a “long-awaited sequel to legendary director Axel Braun’s blockbuster parody.”

Of course, if you watch any of these movies, what you’ll actually get is a porn parody of a superhero movie which is about as original as the average Carlos Mencia standup comedy set. To be fair, originality isn’t something I expect from porn – but this only augments the pointlessness of over-promising the extent to which my mind will be blown by any given porn movie.

By the same token, the Big Game is always promoted like it’s a surefire barn-burner just waiting to happen, when the average margin of victory over the 49 previous editions of the game is 14.5 – not a blowout margin, I suppose, but not exactly cliffhanger territory, either.

The last time the Denver Broncos made it this far, the game’s outcome was beyond doubt by halftime. The football fan with whom I live (AKA my husband) tells me in all likelihood, such could be the case again this year – although he also had Kentucky as “a lock” to win the NCAA basketball tournament last year, something I remind him of every time he makes a prediction, especially if it involves the likelihood of me winning the Powerball drawing.

At Least Porn Doesn’t Have Ads More Interesting Than The Main Event

For a lot of people, the advertisements shown during the Big Game are as big a draw as the game itself – which, to me, sounds like something of an indictment of football as entertainment.

Personally, I haven’t been too impressed by the creativity of these ads over the years, but my opinion appears to be the minority position among viewers. 

With respect to porn, most of the time there’s no advertising at all, creative or otherwise – and while public television long ago proved you don’t have to run commercials in order to bore people to death, to me the lack of ads spells “Advantage: Porn” on this particular point of comparison.

All this said, I’m sure I’ll end up watching the Big Game – at least through halftime, when I’ll beat a hasty retreat from the wardrobe malfunctions and rhythmically-challenged men in shark costumes to entertain myself in some other way…. Like watching the “totally epic” work of a “legendary” porn director, perhaps.

Coleen Singer is a writer, photographer, film maker and all-around geeky gal at Sssh.com, where she often waxes eloquent about sex, porn, sex toys, censorship, the literary and pandering evils of Fifty Shades of Grey and other topics not likely to be found on the Pulitzer Prize shortlist. She is also the editor and curator of EroticScribes.com and a film producer at BDSM site, Wasteland.com. When she is not doing all of the above, Singer is an amateur stock-car racer and enjoys modifying vintage 1970s cars for the racetrack. Oh, she also likes porn.

 
Visit Coleen at Sssh.com for more kinky sex news and original movies for Women and Couples.