Are Glory Holes About To Have Their Moment?
These days, every checkout lane has a plexiglass partition between you and the cashier. Uber drivers have built makeshift seals between driver and passenger. Everywhere you look, a wall has gone up to separate us from the people we interact with. Why, then, would sex be any different?
Once reserved for ice road truckers and Idaho senators with wide stances, glory holes have never made the leap from fringe kink to popular practice. As intercourse goes, it is one of the most impersonal methods—up there with furries, that strange thing they do in the Czech Republic where they put prostitutes on shelves, and however bubble boys bone; the sort of thumbnails you see if you scroll below the comfort zone on Pornhub.
For years, the GH lobby has suffered from a major image problem. Pornography depicts glory hole scenes in dimly-lit, cramped cubes with floors so sticky NBA players could step on them before checking in to the game. The portals are ringed with haphazard tape jobs to prevent painful splinters from lodging, and some of the sets even have multiple points of entry. It all makes for a rather grungy, distasteful presentation of what can be, when done correctly, the safest sex of all.
As we prepare for a post-quarantine world, where we emerge from our shells like so many hermit crabs to a gentle hum, structures must be put into place to prevent a second wave. It stands to reason that sex—that most intimate, physical activity—could use a healthy makeover. It’s time to do away with the unsanctioned wrestling matches that characterized piping for millennia. For the sake of the elderly and the immunocompromised, we must retire the barbaric practices of kissing, fondling, and fish-hooking. No more fingers in mouths. No more tender ear nibbles. No more licking of toe webbing. We must reduce sex to its most basic form. Let us strip away the garnishes, the side music, the foreplay that only ever waylaid the true touchdown dance of penetration. It’s time that we, as a progressive society, play “just the tip” en masse.
Of course, we can’t trust people to abstain from these primate pastimes. Every Adam has his apple; every generation hears the snake. In order to prevent us from sweating and spitting into the mouths and nostrils of our attached partners, we must embrace the glory hole. Once the factories have manufactured enough ventilators and respirators and masks, let these companies repurpose their machines to create a custom barrier for every sexually-active citizen. Heck, let’s get creative! Put out the bat signal for those bearded carpenters on Etsy to make glory hole partitions from the reclaimed wood of an old Baptist pew. Or, if you prefer the sleek lines of a modern build, spring for that minimalist steel curtain from Restoration Hardware. Careful, it’s cold!
This is how it must be. Come fall, every home in America should be equipped with a glory hole for when the mood strikes. Obey your lust; two knocks means bust.