Crazy

If you believe the perpetually aggrieved, our reproductive organs are weapons of mass destruction. Too many people, too many people, too many people they cry again and again and again. We are destroying the planet and everything on it with the avalanche of babies who grow to be awful adults.

And yet we manage to survive and – dare I say it – thrive. Okay, so not all of us thrive. People in Sudan, or Chad or Somalia might not think they’re thriving, but as a species we are.

So what’s the problem? Some people are better off than others, but life’s always been the way; that’s evolution, right? There are winners and losers, and that’s just the way it is. By sheer force of numbers; life expectancy, eradication of diseases and opportunity we are a singularly successful animal.

Here’s the disconnect: If you believe that the suffering needs to stop, you take the single most useful step towards that goal, which would be…what? Cellphones for all? HIV education? Promotion of trades unions? Billions of dollars?

No. If you’re in the business of manipulating others, you’d educate the folks on one simple fact, that sex = pregnancy = more people. Remember that the individuals I refer to don’t like people because we do stuff, like drive cars and eat burgers.

And yet that one equation – that sex has consequences – is the truth least broached by the bleeding hearts, and why? Because they see having sex without thought for the resulting child as a right. The same folks who hate humans fail to do the one thing that will actually start to improve the lot of all of us. Promoting self-control, responsibility, delayed gratification and forethought would encroach upon the human right to reproduce as much as possible.

What’s it to be? Do you think that the poor  of the world lack the ability to figure as simple a concept as “if we have only the number of children we can successfully bring to a high-potential adulthood we’ll be doing the right thing by both those children we have and the earth as a whole”.

Or do you believe that everyone has the strength to overcome their mammalian instinct for pleasure to create a better future?

In the most rotten kind of paternalistic pandering, the political meddlers do everything but face people with the truth.

Mind you, it happens here as well. Many of the allegedly well-intentioned say it’s okay to have kids out of marriage, to divorce with minor kids in the picture and for self-actualization to be a priority over raising kids. When you have unprotected sex, the responsibility potentially lasts 20 years. Twenty. Years. If that fact were more at the forefront of our advanced brains, we’d have a very different world. There’d be much less need for social engineering busybodies, who’d stay at home to attend their own kids and stop bothering everyone else.

The Chicken and the Egg

Attempts at educating juveniles in the finer points of human reproduction inevitably end with acute misunderstandings, upon which therapists and divorce attorneys build lucrative careers later.

Playground taunts were the immediate after-effect of my first encounter with sex ed. With one parent chaperoning, we worldly grade fivers were carted off to the local town hall to view a 16mm film one evening (yes, Hortense, real celluloid). As that thing clattered through the projector, it revealed the goopy truth of girls’ interiors and weird, alien oddities about my own. Far from clarifying matters, this arms-length outline raised questions I had never thought to ask.

The process felt a little like learning aerobatics before learning to fly, rather a step too far.

As we maturely discussed our new-found knowledge during recess the next day, we soon learned of an entire world of hideous insults. There’s nothing like poorly digested information to create fear, and everything in a male child’s mind is poorly digested. Mindful (intellectual) exploration of girls’ differences wasn’t our first response because taunts are way more satisfying.

And that’s where it stopped. We were expected to embark upon life’s most meaningful relationships with one twenty-minute instructional film of anatomy as our touchstone.

Okay, I’m off to practise my outside loops now.

Instant Karma

One-night stands might work for you if you’re looking for a warm body to wrestle with. For one night. Or if you’re feeling lonely and figure that the best way to de-lonely yourself is with sex as bait. For one night. Or you perhaps have a need to conquer…as if sex with a stranger were some kind of victory.

All fair enough. None of this is particularly edifying, but not everything can be a work of art.

The least reason for having a one-nighter should be for the sex. We have, it seems, decided as a species that sex is one thing, that there’s good sex and bad sex, that people are either good at it or they suck. C’mon, you know what I mean. It is as if we have made the abstract (in our minds) and the reality (in our lives) of sex as homogeneous as, say milk from the supermarket. All milk is the same, the variation coming only with minor fat content differences and quantity.

Is sex between two random people the same for any two random people?

Are we all turning each other on in the same way?

Do we all feel the same way at any point during sex?

You can see where I’m driving with this. Yes, the physical acts are variations on a theme. But once you have achieved that, the real joy, pleasure, reaction and contact with the other person occurs in your mind. Therefore, for sex to have any chance of being a highlight of your life, understanding your partner’s mental and physical pathways to satisfying sex are the most important part. And that takes time. Lots of time.

Not a night.