Unconventional Fruit
Unrefined thoughts about pleasure and risk, kink, sunset walks and paw paw trees
Last week we had Sex Ed Book Club and I started our gathering by reading this poem by Natasha Rao:
Concord
It was the summer of juice,
the backyard lined with vines
of too-sweet grapes that turned
the days a tawny mauve. Nights
I slept with the windows wide,
mosquitoes needling my legs.
Everything turned me on:
mulberry-mottled stoop,
smell of purple fermenting,
every fig on the tree. Every
stranger on the train until
I had them and began wanting
the next. You don’t understand love,
said my love when I told him.
I could only open my mouth
and then close it, mimicking
the morning glories. He left
and I wanted him again, in fall
I wanted summer, and now I want
for everything to remain as ripe
as before the first bite. I thought
I would grow into a different kind
of person. I really thought
those grapes would become wine.
this part:
I want
for everything to remain as ripe
as before the first bite.
made me think of preserving novelty in relationship — to people, to place, to hobbies and routines. How, once we sink our teeth into something, imbue ourself with its taste, a fading process can commence. The moment you break the skin, the rotting begins. It made me think of the fleeting nature of a summer fruit, how it begs to be eaten soon, versus the heartier nature of a fall fruit, something like an apple that can wait longer.
Is there anything more symbolic of desire, of wanting, of being unrestrained, than the devouring of a ready summer fruit? Cavorting at its ripeness? Trying to mouth all of its juices? Letting yourself be messy as it runs down your chin or trails along your forearm?
We talked a lot about fruit during book club, particularly the inherent danger that comes with some fruit. Mango is part of the poison ivy family, hence mango mouth, or the rash that some people get around their mouth when they eat the fruit. We talked about poisonous rhurbarb leaves and cyanide in cherry pits. I learned that you can only eat the fruit of monstera deliciosa when it’s ripe, otherwise, it can cause burning or irritation due to the fiberglass-like crystals it contains.
Fruit represents pleasure and risk. There can be a gleaming, seductive sweetness and an undercurrent of danger. I’ve been thinking about fruit as a symbol of “unconventional” pleasure. Unconventional only in the sense that dominant culture deems it that way. Unconventional in the sense that pleasure and risk can be inextricably linked. It makes me think of Gayle Rubin’s Charmed Circle, which illustrates how kinky sex falls outside of social convention.
In kink, there is freedom to unleash parts of ourselves that would be too dark or unusual for conventional society, for everyday life. I listened to a podcast about durian and how the odorous reputation, the disgust, is part of its allure. It made me think of being messy during sex, being drawn to primal urges, to things that are typically off-limits or dirty or taboo.
There’s much more to be said there, especially when it comes to kink, which is a complex and vast world, but I’m mulling over this forbidden fruit thing, this propensity towards pain and pleasure, sweetness and risk. If you have any thoughts, I’d love to hear them ‧₊ 🍒 ⋅ ˚✮
The other night my friend and I went on a sunset walk after dinner. We meandered around the perimeter of the park and he showed me a paw paw tree he discovered a few weeks before. Darkness was settling in quick and, as we arrived at the tree, we could barely make out the fruit so we reached our hands in and felt around, confiscating one of the softer paw paws. I turned it around in my hands as we walked, thinking about how close to a mango it felt.
I had never had one before. When we got home, I ran a knife around the perimeter of it and swiftly twisted it between my hands, felt for a second like I was in an action movie, snapping someone’s neck. I expected juice to dribble out, just like a mango, but it didn’t. Inside were a bunch of seeds, black but shaped and sized like fava beans, their narrow heads sticking out from the custardy, whitish-yellow flesh. I popped one seed at a time in my mouth, running my teeth around it to scrape off the flesh. It was reminiscent of banana and mango and pineapple. A bit savory. I don’t think it was as ripe as it could have been but it was still tasty, and I think the novelty of a new fruit made it taste even better.