Oh, Artis! The territory no longer precedes the map, nor does it survive it!!! You have entered the Hyperreal, Artis. The frequency with which you visit the, (cough) "Push-Up Room" and glossy publications of a similar nature have moved you well beyond the realm of possible sexuality. Your obsession with performative sex has become your notion of how things are. In your eyes, all women enjoy having their straps snapped and their hips wiggled. To you, all house wives wear nothing but small aprons and dance around their kitchens seductively. For you the hyperreal has become "the real," which can be seen as the driving force behind your social ineptitude. There is no feasible means of interaction between you and the opposite sex, for the females you encounter on the pages of a magazine do not react to you. Glossy pics and stage dancers won't slap you in the face, Artis, but those on the street will. . . and have.
