sex bombed
Dec. 20th, 2004 03:45 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
penfieldSame message, different language:
"I do not propose to discuss my love life. I will say that I still can’t get over how women are shaped, and that I will go to my grave wanting to pet their butts and boobs. I will say, too, that lovemaking, if sincere, is one of the best ideas Satan put in the apple she gave to the serpent to give to Eve."
- Kurt Vonnegut, "Timequake"
"Let's talk about sex, ba-by. Let's talk about you-and-me. Let's talk about all the good things, and the bad things, that may be."
- Salt 'N' Pepa, "Let's Talk About Sex"
Someone told me the other day: "You do talk about sex A LOT. Like CONSTANTLY. Enough to make someone a little nervous." Is this true? I honestly never noticed. Sorry about that. And I'm sorry about this post, which is going to make her absolutely squeamish.
I do like talking about sex. I mean, what else is there? When man first crawled out of the primordial ooze, he learned to hunt. Why did he hunt? He hunted for food. Why did he need food? So he could go on dates. Why did he date? We're really not sure about that. I mean, he could have just clubbed her over the head and brought her back to his cave. Which just goes to show you, Guys have never really known what the hell they're doing.
Today, guys wear suits rather than loincloths, and use clubs instead to play ridiculous sports, and have marginally better hygiene. But the principle is the same. Guys want money, prestige, power, etc. so they can attract women. Ladies, you are no different. Your activities are also designed to impress women. Studies (Cosmo, Glamour et al.) have shown that when it comes to behavior, fashion, life skills, etc., you couldn't care less what men think, but you really want other women to think you're hot shit. Why? Because you know nothing turns men on like the idea of hot lesbian action.
Sex is what we were designed for, instinctually. Don't give me any of that baloney about the importance of working or the need to feel fulfilled or important or competent. Famed humanistic psychologist , unwavering optimist and Badger maniac Abraham Maslow (1908-1970) suggested such nonsense in his Hierarchy of Needs.
According to him, people work their way up the pyramid, satisfying their most basic set of needs and then moving up to the next set. The pinnacle of human existence, he postulated, was Self-Actualization -- or the achievement of maximum individual potential. He presumed this would entail noble pursuits such as education, spiritual enlightenment, and devoting one's life to baking cookies for orphans. But we all know that, left to our own devices, our lives would be beer commercials. To wit:
That's what I thought.1
Anyway, Maslow's theory is flawed because it is predicated on a person living in a vacuum, generally operating independently of other people and worrying solely about their own needs. But real life doesn't work that way. Dealing with other people -- meeting his "Social Needs" -- is not a mere step on our path, it is an omnipresent factor in the entire journey. Throughout our lives, we work in teams, couples, groups, families. We are organisms with an intrinsic sense of competition, and we are surrounded by emotionally-charged stimuli. Life is a car pool lane, and not only are there other people in the car screaming or playing with the radio, but there are other vehicles all around you moving too fast or too slow or too recklessly. The overarching human goal is to continue the trip -- stay in the car, perpetuate the group.
And besides, you just know that sex underpins Maslow's entire concept, because it doesn't conveniently fit into any of those needs categories. Sex is a part of each of those needs. (OK, sex as a "safety/shelter need" is perhaps a bit of a stretch. But it is frequently the motivation for a guy to get his own apartment.)
Sex is important. It's not just why we're here, it's why we're here. This alone would make it a viable anytime-conversation topic. (Well, not anytime. Not with my parents, not in Church, and not during the last two minutes of the half.)
But sex is also funny. Sex is hilariously, ridiculously, absurdly funny. It is funny in a slapstick sort of way, what with the silly noises and goofy faces, not to mention the comically stupid things people2 will do to get it.3
Sex is also funny in a more basic sort of way. On a fundamental level, sex creates anxiety. Anxiety creates fear. Laughter is the psyche's way of relieving that fear, like the squeal of a pressure valve. (Humorist Gene Weingarten has said that people cry to deal with grief, and they laugh to deal with fear. He does not specify what people do in the event of pain, but I find that cursing loudly is at least partially effective.)
Coincidentally, laughter and orgasms are thought to be biologically related, stimulating the same neurotransmitters in the pleasure centers of the brain. (Studies show that chocolate does the same thing. Research is still being conducted on pizza, ice cream, beer, The Simpsons, Super Bowl victories, cash and Halle Berry.)
Since sex is so often a joke, it only makes sense that I commonly use it for a punchline. But I do not wish to leave the impression that I think sex is cheap. On the contrary, I just got back from Las Vegas and the companion industry appears to be quite robust.
Ha, ha! there I go again. OK, sex can be cheap, but not the way I do it. If I may enter the cheese section of the store: I believe that sex is the physical expression of love. As a symbol, it's pretty effective. It can take so many forms: tender, angry, joyous, dangerous, stupid, epic, fleeting, safe, etc.
The term "Making Love," beyond being comically grandiose, is yet another misnomer, or at least it ought to be. Because by the time you're having sex, the love should already be done and ready to serve. Love has always come first for me.4
I've never had sex with anyone I wasn't totally in love with. Sometimes I think I'd like to try casual sex, though. (I've had enough of formal sex. The damn cummerbund keeps getting in the way.)
I imagine that casual sex5 is much like going to the ice cream parlor and just getting nothing but free teaspoon-sized samples. Sometimes you just want to try new things without investing a whole lot in the experience. Sometimes you're passing by and you just get a sudden hankering for mint chocolate chip. Sometimes you're broke and you're starving and you'll settle for anything that's free, even if it's liver sorbet.
It seems like so much fun, so footloose and fancy-free. And besides, everyone else is doing it. All right, maybe not. But when you're not doing it, it certainly seems like everyone else is doing it. Loudly. All the time. All day. All night. In the next apartment. In that supply closet. With your roommate. Wouldn't you like to have a taste? (As long as you use protection, lest you acquire a "cavity" that burns when you pee.)
I've wanted to do it. I've tried to do it. But I never could do it. Because sex without love is inherently phony – and not just because it usually requires lying to the other person. ("I'll respect you in the morning. For right now, though, wear this harness.") More importantly, it involves lying to yourself, You telling You that empty sex is all you deserve, or all you can afford. That, my friends, is bullshit.
So if it seems like I'm flippant about sex, it's not because I don't take it seriously. It's because there is a lot of hypocrisy and hyperbole surrounding the whole sordid enterprise, and sometimes we need to hear how silly we sound.
And if it seems like I talk a lot about sex, it's not because I'm obsessed with it. I just think sex is important because it fuels so many of our actions and motivations, and it so generously informs all of our interpersonal relationships. And to ignore such a fundamental element of who we are is like not talking about our parents, or our god, or next week's "Smallville."
And if it seems like I think a lot about sex, well, that's true. Once every half-hour, scientific research says. (This figure is slightly lower during baseball season.) But you can rest assured that when I think about it, I'm thinking about it in the context of a loving, monogamous and mutually rewarding relationship in which the man and the woman are free to explore their desires and communicate their needs, thereby building a framework of intimacy and trust on which can be established true self-actualization, as embodied by a supportive family with whom they can travel safely and securely down the road of life that leads to the city of enlightenment in the state of unwavering bliss.
And then I think, "Yeah, right," and I just buy a double-scoop of chocolate.
"I do not propose to discuss my love life. I will say that I still can’t get over how women are shaped, and that I will go to my grave wanting to pet their butts and boobs. I will say, too, that lovemaking, if sincere, is one of the best ideas Satan put in the apple she gave to the serpent to give to Eve."
- Kurt Vonnegut, "Timequake"
"Let's talk about sex, ba-by. Let's talk about you-and-me. Let's talk about all the good things, and the bad things, that may be."
- Salt 'N' Pepa, "Let's Talk About Sex"
Someone told me the other day: "You do talk about sex A LOT. Like CONSTANTLY. Enough to make someone a little nervous." Is this true? I honestly never noticed. Sorry about that. And I'm sorry about this post, which is going to make her absolutely squeamish.
I do like talking about sex. I mean, what else is there? When man first crawled out of the primordial ooze, he learned to hunt. Why did he hunt? He hunted for food. Why did he need food? So he could go on dates. Why did he date? We're really not sure about that. I mean, he could have just clubbed her over the head and brought her back to his cave. Which just goes to show you, Guys have never really known what the hell they're doing.
Today, guys wear suits rather than loincloths, and use clubs instead to play ridiculous sports, and have marginally better hygiene. But the principle is the same. Guys want money, prestige, power, etc. so they can attract women. Ladies, you are no different. Your activities are also designed to impress women. Studies (Cosmo, Glamour et al.) have shown that when it comes to behavior, fashion, life skills, etc., you couldn't care less what men think, but you really want other women to think you're hot shit. Why? Because you know nothing turns men on like the idea of hot lesbian action.
Sex is what we were designed for, instinctually. Don't give me any of that baloney about the importance of working or the need to feel fulfilled or important or competent. Famed humanistic psychologist , unwavering optimist and Badger maniac Abraham Maslow (1908-1970) suggested such nonsense in his Hierarchy of Needs.
According to him, people work their way up the pyramid, satisfying their most basic set of needs and then moving up to the next set. The pinnacle of human existence, he postulated, was Self-Actualization -- or the achievement of maximum individual potential. He presumed this would entail noble pursuits such as education, spiritual enlightenment, and devoting one's life to baking cookies for orphans. But we all know that, left to our own devices, our lives would be beer commercials. To wit:
That's what I thought.1
Anyway, Maslow's theory is flawed because it is predicated on a person living in a vacuum, generally operating independently of other people and worrying solely about their own needs. But real life doesn't work that way. Dealing with other people -- meeting his "Social Needs" -- is not a mere step on our path, it is an omnipresent factor in the entire journey. Throughout our lives, we work in teams, couples, groups, families. We are organisms with an intrinsic sense of competition, and we are surrounded by emotionally-charged stimuli. Life is a car pool lane, and not only are there other people in the car screaming or playing with the radio, but there are other vehicles all around you moving too fast or too slow or too recklessly. The overarching human goal is to continue the trip -- stay in the car, perpetuate the group.
And besides, you just know that sex underpins Maslow's entire concept, because it doesn't conveniently fit into any of those needs categories. Sex is a part of each of those needs. (OK, sex as a "safety/shelter need" is perhaps a bit of a stretch. But it is frequently the motivation for a guy to get his own apartment.)
Sex is important. It's not just why we're here, it's why we're here. This alone would make it a viable anytime-conversation topic. (Well, not anytime. Not with my parents, not in Church, and not during the last two minutes of the half.)
But sex is also funny. Sex is hilariously, ridiculously, absurdly funny. It is funny in a slapstick sort of way, what with the silly noises and goofy faces, not to mention the comically stupid things people2 will do to get it.3
Sex is also funny in a more basic sort of way. On a fundamental level, sex creates anxiety. Anxiety creates fear. Laughter is the psyche's way of relieving that fear, like the squeal of a pressure valve. (Humorist Gene Weingarten has said that people cry to deal with grief, and they laugh to deal with fear. He does not specify what people do in the event of pain, but I find that cursing loudly is at least partially effective.)
Coincidentally, laughter and orgasms are thought to be biologically related, stimulating the same neurotransmitters in the pleasure centers of the brain. (Studies show that chocolate does the same thing. Research is still being conducted on pizza, ice cream, beer, The Simpsons, Super Bowl victories, cash and Halle Berry.)
Since sex is so often a joke, it only makes sense that I commonly use it for a punchline. But I do not wish to leave the impression that I think sex is cheap. On the contrary, I just got back from Las Vegas and the companion industry appears to be quite robust.
Ha, ha! there I go again. OK, sex can be cheap, but not the way I do it. If I may enter the cheese section of the store: I believe that sex is the physical expression of love. As a symbol, it's pretty effective. It can take so many forms: tender, angry, joyous, dangerous, stupid, epic, fleeting, safe, etc.
The term "Making Love," beyond being comically grandiose, is yet another misnomer, or at least it ought to be. Because by the time you're having sex, the love should already be done and ready to serve. Love has always come first for me.4
I've never had sex with anyone I wasn't totally in love with. Sometimes I think I'd like to try casual sex, though. (I've had enough of formal sex. The damn cummerbund keeps getting in the way.)
I imagine that casual sex5 is much like going to the ice cream parlor and just getting nothing but free teaspoon-sized samples. Sometimes you just want to try new things without investing a whole lot in the experience. Sometimes you're passing by and you just get a sudden hankering for mint chocolate chip. Sometimes you're broke and you're starving and you'll settle for anything that's free, even if it's liver sorbet.
It seems like so much fun, so footloose and fancy-free. And besides, everyone else is doing it. All right, maybe not. But when you're not doing it, it certainly seems like everyone else is doing it. Loudly. All the time. All day. All night. In the next apartment. In that supply closet. With your roommate. Wouldn't you like to have a taste? (As long as you use protection, lest you acquire a "cavity" that burns when you pee.)
I've wanted to do it. I've tried to do it. But I never could do it. Because sex without love is inherently phony – and not just because it usually requires lying to the other person. ("I'll respect you in the morning. For right now, though, wear this harness.") More importantly, it involves lying to yourself, You telling You that empty sex is all you deserve, or all you can afford. That, my friends, is bullshit.
So if it seems like I'm flippant about sex, it's not because I don't take it seriously. It's because there is a lot of hypocrisy and hyperbole surrounding the whole sordid enterprise, and sometimes we need to hear how silly we sound.
And if it seems like I talk a lot about sex, it's not because I'm obsessed with it. I just think sex is important because it fuels so many of our actions and motivations, and it so generously informs all of our interpersonal relationships. And to ignore such a fundamental element of who we are is like not talking about our parents, or our god, or next week's "Smallville."
And if it seems like I think a lot about sex, well, that's true. Once every half-hour, scientific research says. (This figure is slightly lower during baseball season.) But you can rest assured that when I think about it, I'm thinking about it in the context of a loving, monogamous and mutually rewarding relationship in which the man and the woman are free to explore their desires and communicate their needs, thereby building a framework of intimacy and trust on which can be established true self-actualization, as embodied by a supportive family with whom they can travel safely and securely down the road of life that leads to the city of enlightenment in the state of unwavering bliss.
And then I think, "Yeah, right," and I just buy a double-scoop of chocolate.
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footnote 3
Date: 2004-12-20 08:55 pm (UTC)The things we do to get sex always make the best stories. You might be wondering: why, then, isn't there more comedy-pornography? There's a simple answer for that, actually. Really good-looking people – the kind of people you would theoretically want to see copulating – are not funny. A sense of humor is only developed as either a defense mechanism against peer cruelty or as a way to distract from facial or bodily abnormalities.