I’m so over sex
I’m so over sex. The pornographication of our society has turned sex into a duel headed Siren. One voice sings of the awesomeness of the experience while the other decimates the value of relationships, turning Mary J. Bliges’ song into a joke, telling her the proper verse should be “Sex is all we need.” Relationships between men and women have become one-dimensional. A friend of mine (me, but I’m being modest) said a long time ago when asked by a friend, “Do you think she’s hot?” I responded with, “Yeah, but I’d have to talk to her first.” My friend’s unasked question was, “what the hell does that mean?” But I always found sex by itself to be somewhat unfulfilling. Maybe it’s because I grew up with women. I realized how interesting the female mind is, complex, subtle, humorous, and best of all smart. I’m a nerd. Always have been. When asked if I could become a superhero what superhero would I be, I answered Brainiac, a character that knew everything and could control the world by force of knowledge and finance. So I am a little under whelmed by the physical, though thighs hold a special place in my heart, but the mental … ahhh … let me count the ways.
I say that to say this. I have had good sex, excellent sex for that matter. But like a good meal, good sex must be accompanied by good conversation, good company, laughter, unspoken communication, general cheer along with a solid dose of intellectual firepower. This is similar to how a good steak should be served, preceded by fresh calamari, good red wine, asparagus, a perfect potato, a nice post-dinner espresso, blueberry pie, a crystal snifter of cognac, and a non-light cigarette on a nice night. The steak alone, though the main dish, is not enough. Rather all the other elements enrich the meal, even the ceremony of getting dressed properly, seeing the white table cloth, and the flush of good feeling arising from the fact that one is about to indulge in a treat is as much a part of the experience as the food itself.
When I was a younger man, I would think of the steak first, and then the circumstance. Now, in a world devoid of circumstance the steak has lost a good deal of it’s luster. What I would give for the entire experience again.
P.S. One of the sad casualties of the current state of our sexual culture is that women used to be the keepers of the ceremony. One could not enjoy the good graces of a women until one had undertaken all of the correct steps. She would make sure you appreciated the finer things about her femininity. Now no one is there to make sure these underpinnings that shrouded sex in the mystery and undertone, to which men for centuries have been drawn, are kept. The demur, the understated, the mystery, the art of subtle attraction are all dead. In their place is the halter top, the super tight pant that leaves nothing to the imagination, and the exhibited undergarment. God must have a devastating sense of humor. With the liberalization of sexuality came the death of the belief in the power of the feminine.
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