(Note: Anytime I use the word “sex” in this article, I’m using it as an all encompassing word.)
I sometimes think we take sex too seriously (myself included).
This is easy to do because we live in a world that seems to put sex on this very high & seemingly unreachable pedestal.
We create debates around it. We enforce strict laws against it. We analyze its methods & meanings to great lengths (sexual orientation, for instance, is widely & excruciatingly disputed). We treat it with with formality & humorlessness.
And here comes the paradox: This world is infused with sex. It’s on television, in movies, in books, in music — sometimes as subtle as whisper, sometimes as in-your-face as a celebrity’s leaked sex tape.
We are puritans, & we are pornographers.
We glorify sex, & we demonize it.
And yet. . . sex is all around.
There would literally be no trees, no tulips, no earwigs, no platypuses, no sparrows, no gorgeous, messy life without sex — both on a reproductive & an energetic level.
We need sex to thrive, like the breath in our lungs & the blood in our veins. We also need sex to connect & regenerate. We need sex to evolve.
Sex is incredibly powerful. And we know this, which is why we do our best to master it, understand it, tame it, discourage it.
All noble feats, to be sure, but it is in this flurry to interpret it that the utter joy of sex becomes diminished.
Yes, sex is joyful.
Sex is not meant to be serious. It is us that places so much weight on it, particularly in the realm of how, when, & why it’s done.
Sex itself is really quite easy like Sunday morning.
Imagine that. No, really. Imagine for just a moment what sex would be like if it were easy like Sunday morning.
It would be pure bliss. It would be absolute contentment. It would be perfectly carefree, without any pretention or expectation.
I believe that that is the way sex is supposed to be.
I believe we should see sex in a way that it is easy, rather than perplexing. I believe that sex is joy just as life is joy, as birth is joy, as eating a decadent piece of gooey, dense chocolate cake is joy.
Perhaps that would be a perfect analogy. Let’s speak about cake for a moment.
Picture with your mind’s eye the most perfect piece of chocolate cake in all the universe. It sits prettily on a delicate piece of vintage china, a fork on one side of the plate & a soft, cloth napkin on the other. Perhaps a tall, cold glass of milk — soy, almond, hemp, cow, whichever — accompanies this heavenly treat.
As you feast your eyes on this piece of cake, your mouth begins to water & the pit of your stomach starts to beckon its chocolately goodness with deep, excited growls.
With every cell in your being, you want to devour this cake. You want to fill your mouth with this moist, rich confection & let your tastebuds dance with its sweetness. You want to take big, voluptuous bites of it, all while experiencing the divinity of tasting it.
So all of this desire is bubbling up inside of you & you begin to anticipate the moment in which you’ll give in & open your mouth to chew up this most perfect piece of chocolate cake. Everything is telling you to do so now. . .
But instead you go against yourself & walk away from the table.
You then begin to busy yourself with research about the maker of this cake, where she lives, where she was born, the origin of her maiden name. You scrutinize every ingredient in the cake — the flour, the baking soda, the sugar, the way the butter was churned. You brood over the history of cake, the way cacao trees grow in the rainforest, & the process of making chocolate.
You think that if you could know everything there is to know about cake that you would enjoy this particular slice that much more.
We treat sex like this sometimes.
We know in our minds that it would be absolutely ridiculous to go to the library & research cake extensively first before eating it. Why should we do all of that before we eat a piece of cake? What a waste of perfect time & precious energy! Both would be better spent on eating the cake straightaway.
We should simply eat the cake & enjoy it.
Same thing goes with sex. We should do it, have it, be it, & enjoy it.
Don’t get fixated on becoming an aficionado before you practice the art of sex. There’s no need to read abstract manuals or watch hour-long documentaries or consult an expert (unless of course those things give you joy). It’s not necessary to fully understand what sex is for or why sex is.
If you really want to know what sex is, it’s this:
Sex is joy.
And humorous. And messy. And innate. And fun.
Don’t take it too seriously.
Keep it easy like Sunday morning.