Harley retweetledi
Harley
98 posts
Harley retweetledi
Harley retweetledi
Harley retweetledi
As promised…
Those April showers brought my flowers 🌸🌺💖😘
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Harley retweetledi
Harley retweetledi
Harley retweetledi
Harley retweetledi
Harley retweetledi
Harley retweetledi
Harley retweetledi
Harley retweetledi
Harley retweetledi
Harley retweetledi
Harley retweetledi
Harley retweetledi
It’s always a good day when I can take some time to myself at work 😉 #Fantasy #Friday #ScrubLife #Nurse #HornyNurse #MILF #NILF #RN #Lingerie #Tits #32D Join me! 💋 @knotsandboots
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Harley retweetledi
Harley retweetledi
Harley retweetledi
I know what three horses smell like so I’m assuming 1000 would be heaven.
There’s this historian, Rob Boddice, reconstructing what it actually felt like to live in a 19th century city -the sensory reality. Thousands of horses meant streets cushioned with manure, constant smell of sweat and leather, hooves hitting cobblestone. His argument: we can’t assume people in the past felt things the way we do. Even pain. What interests me? Pleasure.
A medieval carpenter hits his thumb with a hammer. What does he feel? If his entire conceptual framework is religious, if suffering ties to Christ’s pain and purifies, if harm comes daily with the job - the experience reaching his brain isn’t our “pain.” It’s something else entirely. Neuroscience confirms that the brain creates experience through prediction, drawing on prior concepts and categories - signals and interpretation.
What about pleasure? We assume everyone experiences desire the same way. “Girlfriend experience” means one thing. Emotional connection follows a script. Instagram therapy-speak captures what people feel. Wrong. Your brain makes meaning from completely different prior experiences than mine. Your “intimacy” isn’t my “intimacy.” Your “connection” isn’t my “connection.”
Modern psychology tries to standardize this - the DSM reduces human suffering to diagnostic checkboxes. The digital age flattens it further. Therapy-speak collapses complex states into “triggered” and “validated.” Dating apps collapse connection into swipe-right criteria. Everyone performs the same script without asking if it captures what they actually experience.
Desire, intimacy, pleasure don’t work the same way for everyone. We architect our own experience. Unless the tech overlords have their way. Digital pleasure capitalizes on this loss of human experience becoming profitable. The appeal of OF, now AI replacing it, promises customization and direct access. You can request what you want. It feels like autonomy, like connection, but it’s performance, not reality. You’re giving up your autonomy as the viewer - outsourcing discovery to algorithmic optimization. And you’re eliminating the autonomy of what you’re watching by reducing actual human sexual experience to two dimensions. The insidious part: technology keeps advancing to make the 2D world feel more 3D, more 4D, more real. The simulation gets better. But there’s still no autonomy in it - Just pixels optimized for your consumption.
Shout out to the people showing us what reality looks like: messy, ugly, beautiful ✨
Evolution required billions of years of chaos, failure, things not working to get to what currently works. Pleasure is the same. You have to explore, fuck up, not know in advance. Cookie-cutter approaches get you cookie-cutter orgasms.
There’s nothing more rebellious right now than refusing to outsource the most personal, intimate thing you do - your own pleasure. Not subscribing to what the algorithm decided you want. Actually discovering what happens between you and another human being who has their own autonomy, their own unpredictability, their own mess. Different is good. Messy is good. Not knowing exactly what happens when two specific people meet - that’s the point.
Shout out to my lovers for being fellow explorers 🙌🏻
Curiosity over projection. Discovering someone’s particular reality, not confirming your assumptions about it. Boddice says the compulsion to ask “what did it feel like?” makes us human. I’d add: accepting the answer might be “completely different than you imagined” makes connection possible.
The smell of a thousand horses. The medieval carpenter’s thumb. Not just historical curiosities. Reminders that experience is always stranger, more specific, more individual than we want to believe. Flattening this complexity - through diagnostic criteria, algorithms, transactional assumptions - doesn’t make us more connected. It makes us lonelier in increasingly identical ways.
The Atlantic@TheAtlantic
A common assumption is that throughout history, people have experienced the same basic range of emotions. A radical field of history now challenges this assumption, Gal Beckerman reports. theatln.tc/KD2QRX9Y People tend to imagine that other people “have the exact same set of emotions that we have,” Beckerman writes. “We perform this projection on any number of human experiences: losing a child, falling ill, being bored at work. We assume that emotions in the past are accessible because we assume that at their core, people in the past were just like us, with slight tweaks for their choice of hats and of personal hygiene.” Rob Boddice, a leader in the field of the history of emotions and senses, mistrusts this universalism, a philosophy that emerged during the Enlightenment, when European intellectuals began to assume that all people share a common nature. Many critics now understand that they were attempting to exert power and order over a world that had recently become bigger and stranger. “By the time we get to our current globalized culture, in which a Korean thriller can win Best Picture at the Oscars and Latin pop stars dominate the U.S. charts, the notion that our emotional registers are all essentially alike feels self-evident,” Beckerman continues. “Boddice starts with the opposite premise, that we are not the same,” Beckerman writes. “Rather than being a constant—extending across space and time—human nature for Boddice is a variable and unstable category, one with infinite possible shades.” Although his approach might seem “squishy and postmodern,” Beckerman writes, Boddice’s research layers his own thinking on top of the most recent advances in neuroscience. At the link, read more about the field of study that is pushing historians to reconsider their assumptions about the people of the past. 🎨: Nicolás Ortega
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