Monday, June 11, 2007
project 365 #162: arch and tree
And, well, as George Carlin most famously said, sex is like pizza: pretty damn good even when it's not that good. And way the hell better than nothing because quite honestly, my fingers or some creepy toy made in China by child slaves (I don't know; maybe it's cool with other people, but the thought of Chinese political prisoners manufacturing vibrators just kind of sends a cold unwelcome chill over the whole experience. Above and beyond the thought that you're going to have to wash the damn thing and how that's possible in a one bathroom house where children, dogs and casual relatives think nothing of strolling in to chat with the current occupant of the throne is the sort of thing that leads one to come up with nightmarish dreams of the sort that drive a saint to worldly liquors.) are just not all that really fun. Fun, no. Good for getting you to sleep, sure. Enhancing loneliness, yeah - brilliant at that.
But. Sex. Sex is a strange thing. The only time in your life you can really take it lightly is your early 20s, when your body is just raging a thousand hormones and running amok and your early 40s, when it's kind of doing the same thing. Granted, I personally was my horniest in my mid-30s (naturally, this coincided with a lengthy period of miserable celibacy) but that was when sex seemed to me to be a Very Important Thing. At that point in your life it's all bound up with babies and the house and foreverness and all that stuff. Which must be brilliant for the people for whom it works, and slow silent death for those it doesn't and sort of bemusing for the rest of us. But sex isn't that important, you know, really. Unless you're in love and when you are, well, gods help you, because I sure as hell can't and neither can anyone else.
So, uh, I'm concluding, having gone exactly nowhere with this blog post except to say, look, sex is awesome. Go have some. And when that sex is mixed with some kind of love and connection, it's even better. And so. And yeah. And talk at y'all next time.
Addenda: What I really meant and wanted to talk about was that connection and how important is it, really? Of course I don't have much of an answer and this morning in the shower I was musing on sex and love and reflecting that the last time somebody fell in love with me it was an unmitigated disaster, dear god, let's hope that doesn't happen again, but the last time I fell in love with someone it was just. . . good. Not totally reciprocated, no, but that was okay and, well, the whole thing was more than okay. And I miss that and I know how damn rare it is, when the whole thing, the sex and the emotions and all are in sync. I suspect it's asking a lot, looking for that to happen again. It's never easy and it gets trickier and trickier as you get older and acquire more and more baggage, although in some odd ways that you wouldn't suspect some things get easier, like honesty. By the time you're my age you've pretty much heard and told all the lies and it just no longer seems like it's going to shatter anybody's world if you don't fake an orgasm or act like you're falling in love. That's a good thing, all in all, I think. At least, I hope it is, since it doesn't seem like there are a whole lot of other options.