‘’Sapiosexual pleasure’’ limited for Elites ?

Giovanni Boccaccio, in his The Decameron, writes:

“Now it so befell that after a hard day’s work he was taking a little rest, when two young nuns, who were walking in the garden, approached the spot where he lay, and stopped to look at him, while he pretended to be asleep… And then she led him into the hut, where he needed no pressing to do what she desired of him. Which done, she changed places with the other, as loyal comradeship required; and Masetto, still keeping up the pretence of simplicity, did their pleasure.”

If these words spark curiosity, then keep reading. But first, we must acknowledge the Erogenous Zones. Typically, we define these as physical regions: the neck, ears, mouth, or subtle areas like the inner thighs. Yet, there is one more: a non-physical zone that is more powerful, subtle, and often disregarded, the mind. The mind is the source of sexual response, arousal, fantasy, and pleasure, making it the undeniable center of gravity for desire.

We speak of lips, of hips, of the curve where thigh meets heat. But the most intoxicating seduction doesn’t begin in the body, at least not for everyone. For some, it begins in the mind, where a single sentence can unravel weeks of composure, and a well-placed pause can ignite more hunger than a thousand touches. This is not to suggest arousal is sans mind for the rest; there is no such thing as mindless arousal.

True eroticism is not a spectacle. It is a subtext. It’s the way someone writes your name, not with flourish, but with focus, as if each letter carries weight. It’s the silence after you say something vulnerable, held not in awkwardness, but in reverence. It’s the way one remembers the book you mentioned in passing, and weeks later, sends a line from page 37 with one word underlined: “This is you.”

In a world that reduces intimacy to filters, positions, and performance, the mind remains the last uncolonized frontier of desire. A clever metaphor can make your pulse quicken. A shared philosophical doubt can feel like foreplay. A voice that speaks in rhythm with your thoughts? That is the quiet thunder before the storm.

You may have very well been in this moment:

Laying awake, not because of a lover’s hands, but because of their words. The person moved through you like slow fire, mapping parts of you you’d forgotten existed. Did the person touch your skin that night? No, and yet, you felt branded.

This is the secret of Sacred Flesh. The body responds to what the mind surrenders to. When you are spoken to like a mystery, not a conquest, the soul opens. When curiosity replaces agenda, intimacy becomes ritual. You don’t just have the other, you witness them. And in that witnessing, you ignite something far more potent than lust: recognition. But lust is not lost.

This seduction of intelligence, to be known, not just desired, has a name: sapiosexual. It was coined in 1998 by the American engineer and blogger Darren Stalder. When Stalder created the term, he never intended it to be used exclusively by one class or as a measure of exclusivity. Sadly though, this is exactly what has transpired. Today, “sapiosexual” is an elitist glossary. The moment you use the word, you distinguish yourself from the rest, assuming a kind of superiority. What an insult to humanity’s freedom of being who they are.

Let’s break this intellectual façade. Everyone is sapiosexual. The only difference is the degree to which one feels aroused or intimate due to intellectual exchange. Sapiosexuality does not show one is better read or more cultured than the rest. One is only more sensitive to witty banter and words than the rest. Simply having a mind more sensitive than one’s inner thighs does not grant access to an exclusive club.

Pleasure is universal, and so is its glossary of words. Sapiosexuality is not a hashtag, a brand, or a pass to a different realm. It is a gift available to the entirety of humanity.

Dhanuka

Pleasure as sovereignty. Thought as foreplay. Presence as the ultimate kink. — Sacred Flesh