I think sex was originally meant for having children. However, it was nature, God, the force, evolution, my great, great, great, times 10-to-the-100th-power Aunt Gertrude who made it so pleasurable and compelling that we would want to pop those babies out almost as badly as we wanted to eat or breathe.
Gertrude thought that would be a good idea because, you see, after she made pain the worst thing possible that we could ever experience (so as to keep ourselves alive to prevent us from sticking our fingers in light sockets just for fun, or stuffing our heads into cement mixers to see how it feels), she gave us sex, so we would perpetuate our species. The only problem is that when you have something almost as compelling as wanting to eat or breathe, sex is just a teensy-weensy challenging, at times, to resist – even when our “baby quota” is all tapped out, even when our brains are all full of mush, even when the country we live in is a squalid cesspool and there's not enough food for all the new babies, and sometimes even when there's tons of logical reasons why we shouldn't do the “chatakataharangabota,” and so forth. Aunt Gertrude had to add, to the pleasure of sex, a sense of amazing peace, contentment, physical well-being, connection, and after-buzz, so that we'd think it was the holy grail, fountain of youth, and mother of all sources of everything great. This is how it is for me (and let me hasten to add that when combined with commitment, loyalty, etc., it’s next to divine)!
In my humble opinion, sex deserves some real balance, and to be taken out to dinner regularly. I admire, praise, champion, vouch for, aspire to, point to, and even worship the stalwart people who manage to confine this amazing force of Aunt Gertrude within the bounds of marriage (or whatever you want to call it). And although I do not condone, and will look askance when I see it, I do not condemn those who, despite their best efforts to do the right thing, find balance a little differently than some of the lucky, hard-working, fortunate, disciplined, and happy couples who find, join, and remain like two front top teeth in the same skull for all life and then forever thereafter (if teeth really do get united in some supernal Aunt Gertruded-up gussie of a place called heaven, nirvana, Valhalla, etc.). Whatever. But I'm telling ya: If there's no sex, there, with someone who likes it with me together as much as I do, I am not freakin’ goin’! Yo!
Okay, I know – I can't have everything, here or there, because then it would not be life, nor life after death. However, if a place is void of sex, it would be that other many-named place we like to tell people to go to.
Loren M. Lambert © October 31, 2013
Gertrude thought that would be a good idea because, you see, after she made pain the worst thing possible that we could ever experience (so as to keep ourselves alive to prevent us from sticking our fingers in light sockets just for fun, or stuffing our heads into cement mixers to see how it feels), she gave us sex, so we would perpetuate our species. The only problem is that when you have something almost as compelling as wanting to eat or breathe, sex is just a teensy-weensy challenging, at times, to resist – even when our “baby quota” is all tapped out, even when our brains are all full of mush, even when the country we live in is a squalid cesspool and there's not enough food for all the new babies, and sometimes even when there's tons of logical reasons why we shouldn't do the “chatakataharangabota,” and so forth. Aunt Gertrude had to add, to the pleasure of sex, a sense of amazing peace, contentment, physical well-being, connection, and after-buzz, so that we'd think it was the holy grail, fountain of youth, and mother of all sources of everything great. This is how it is for me (and let me hasten to add that when combined with commitment, loyalty, etc., it’s next to divine)!
In my humble opinion, sex deserves some real balance, and to be taken out to dinner regularly. I admire, praise, champion, vouch for, aspire to, point to, and even worship the stalwart people who manage to confine this amazing force of Aunt Gertrude within the bounds of marriage (or whatever you want to call it). And although I do not condone, and will look askance when I see it, I do not condemn those who, despite their best efforts to do the right thing, find balance a little differently than some of the lucky, hard-working, fortunate, disciplined, and happy couples who find, join, and remain like two front top teeth in the same skull for all life and then forever thereafter (if teeth really do get united in some supernal Aunt Gertruded-up gussie of a place called heaven, nirvana, Valhalla, etc.). Whatever. But I'm telling ya: If there's no sex, there, with someone who likes it with me together as much as I do, I am not freakin’ goin’! Yo!
Okay, I know – I can't have everything, here or there, because then it would not be life, nor life after death. However, if a place is void of sex, it would be that other many-named place we like to tell people to go to.
Loren M. Lambert © October 31, 2013
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