So, let’s do it. Let’s talk about sex.
Why is it such a delicate topic? Why do we reserve sexual conversation for those we feel most comfortable with? Why is it so mystifying and secretive?
Sex is primal; we are biologically programmed to utilize it, and um…do it. So why isn’t this commonality, this pleasurable action being talked about, like, all the time? Why isn’t it weaved into the causes and consequences of our actions just as economic and political factors always are? Shouldn’t we want to constantly talk about something that unifies us, equalizes us and literally sustains us as humans?
Common responses to these questions could be, “sex is a special, intimate experience that doesn’t have to broadcasted, but should rather be contained within my sexual relationship,” or something more casual such as, “talking about sex makes me uncomfortable.” Okay, I get it. Sort of.
Sure, sex is exceptionally personal. It transforms us into these animalistic, stripped down (pun intended) versions of ourselves. We are living dual-realities that tend to contrast one another. Sometimes your sex self isn’t necessarily similar to your IRL self. People don’t like to be held accountable for things they said or did while under the high of having sex. Yet, how much more interesting and dynamic would we all be if that passionate energy we emanate during sex was engrained in the way we led our lives, carried out our hobbies or communicated with one another?
In his book How to Think More About Sex, philosopher Alain de Botton observes that “we [are] bothered by sex because it is a fundamentally disruptive, overwhelming, and demented force, strongly at odds with the majority of our ambitions and all but incapable of being discreetly integrated within civilized society.”
This dual-reality haunts us. Sex is so distinct from how we conduct ourselves daily: with polite and ultimately restrictive behavior (this doesn’t mean that sex is always an impolite and limitless experience, even though you should probably start thinking about it that way…trust me). We just shouldn’t be experiencing a division of selves; it’s unnatural. We should be free to be our full, horny, weird selves that tend to come out during sexual acts. I mean, I would probably find CEOs more relatable if I knew the freaky shit they did behind closed doors.
Sex is in some way the ultimate meditative experience. In the workplace, in our friendships, in our daily tasks, we’re all so annoying about wanting to “live in the moment” and “be present.” Yet here we are, doing this thing that allows us to completely rid ourselves of any and all disposable thoughts. During sex, nothing matters other than that moment, that feeling, and (hopefully) that person. We are totally winning meditation when we have sex, yet no one sees it that way. What if we applied that meditative state we achieve during sex to every aspect of our lives? That is some serious untapped potential to be more self-aware, which is arguably the most attractive quality I find in others.
Isn’t it extraordinary that sex doesn’t care about your ethnicity or your wealth or your social status? It doesn’t care that you are a celebrity or an esteemed intellectual or the President of the United States. It’s universal. Is there truly any other action that brings all humans down to the same vulnerability and truest of states? Is there anything more humanizing? Think about how much more respect we would have for one another if we actively and publicly talked about sexual activity. As a result, we could feel balanced with one another as humans and make further progress on social injustices and discriminations.
It’s so reassuring to remember that everyone has either given or received a blowjob. Real life is about to get so much more interesting.
Photo: Still from film The Graduate, 1967. Sourced From: Tumblr.