Strangely, I’ve realised that one of my weird shock moves is something of a barometer of my mood. If I’m in an upswing, it occurs to me to occasionally break out the hate-fuck for comic purposes.
The Hate-Fuck defined: for the proper results on this move you need to have it follow a discussion of someone who is either mutually or singly disliked OR someone who is completely innocent (the former is for schadenfreude, the latter is for shock). The actual move is merely a miming of forceful yet wooden anal sex coupled with an angry/enraged countenance and a drawn out, higher pitched, frustrated groan that is repeated with each thrust (think Harvey Keitel in Bad Lieutenant for the sound).
The Hate-Fuck demystified: It’s sort of a literal representation of sexual-frustration, if one were to be Freudian about it.
I can’t decribe the feeling of terrible joy and relief that I’ve felt in the doing of such a move. As Marilyn would say, I’m working my shadow.
PS – I’m not sexually frustrated. It’s pretty hard for a gay man in Portland to remain sexually frustrated unless he stays under a rock, has scruples, or both.