Porn is not produced to be romantic or funny--that would run counter to the forumula: adduce certain types of models, certain types of foreplay, certain types of sexual activity, certain dialog (and, oh brother, is it stupid), and the culmination, which males insist on seeing.
Get you up, get you going, get you off. Like a fetish as a condiment? Fine, we can do that, too: bdsm, seducer-innocent, leather, outdoors, doctor-nursie/patient, homeowner-pool boy, jailer/prisoner, dom-sub, milf/dilf-the ready eager young person. It's predictable, it's supposed to be, because that's what the typical audience wants from porn because the typical audience is, well, typical.
Porn is a short-cut to masturbatory release and/or a sex substitute. I remember laughing at the introductory captions of the seventies that proclaimed that the film was for personal edification and education. And in a way that's true, those who have never had sex with another human can learn some of the things that people do sexually. But educational, no--real sex is educational.
I watched porn when it first became somewhat available: gone were the days when sex scenes involved barely hard addicts shielding their eyes from camera lights and needle tracks on their arms and thin, scrawny street people with pimply butts and bruises. Beautiful people started doing porn.
Like anything else, porn got old quickly for me. For me, I wanted what was real, I didn't needed to be stimulated to an expected release like one of Pavlov's dogs. You don't control porn, it controls you, to an extent.
If you like porn, fine. I don't. There is no substitute for real sex. Even the settings and plot available in porn beggar the imagination, and for me, can make sex less than what it is and can be. Just like games are not battle, porn is not sex. I can't even remember the last time I saw porn, and I don't miss it.
