Let's talk about sex, baby

I’ve been meaning to see Kinsey for a long, long time, since it was in production. Grover/Andy posted something about it recently and I was thinking about it when I passed the video store on a planned lazy day off work.

There are a myriad of reasons I haven’t seen the flick before now but I’m remedying it this evening.

I first heard of the Kinsey scale when I was 18. It was the first and only time I’ve ever really been attracted to a chick, though I've occasionally been curious since. But I've never done anything about it, since I’ve honestly never really been that drawn to another female. I guess I’m a 1 (or a 2).

If you’ve been on a desert island, the Kinsey scale is a scale by which human sexuality is judged. With a Zero being completely heterosexual, and a 6 being completely homosexual, it is thought the average person falls somewhere in between, that the human animal is naturally inclined to be drawn to the animality of the sex act, regardless of gender, at one time or another.

Kinsey cracked the nut when it came to sex. The Sexual Revolution? His fault. Yeah, I just said a thankful prayer in his name, too.

Kinsey studied sexual perversions, fetishes, desires, darkest fantasies, and elaborate sexual histories of hundreds of thousands of everymen/women in the US, criss-crossing the country. He gathered the studies and published them in his sexual sciences masterpiece, The Kinsey Report (The Human Male and The Human Female, released in that order.)

The centuries of repressed feelings of shame and “I’m a dirty, dirty person” all fell away after the release of Kinsey’s work and people began to realize that orgasms were good, not liquid sin.

We could use another Kinsey right now. It’s fitting the film should have been released (to great critical acclaim) in this time of repression and moral outrage with the Right scaring everyone straight down South, because this is precisely the Puritanical mindset Kinsey was faced with.

And it’s a shame. Sex is great. We should all have sex. Every single day. You’re supposed to get 30 minutes of physical activity every day, right? Done, and without even leaving the bed. Excellent.

And orgasms? Ten times the relaxative power of a Valium pill. (And none of the icky chemicals.) Think of it as a shot of Happy. Hell, let’s change the word to “gleegasm”.

I think talking about sex is important. I think sex is very important to us, seriously, on a number of levels. Great sex builds self-esteem, particularly when it’s with someone you love. Vigorous sex is great activity. Intercourse takes care of a lot of those pesky lower lumbar muscular problems, too. Sex eases our nerves and improves our creativity. It’s even a great sleep aid.

Unfortunately, I’m probably perceived as a dirty, promiscuous woman because I think sex is worth staying in for. So be it.

We’re far too dismissive of sex in North America. It’s a crucial part of a relationship. Some people, sadly, for physical reasons, can’t have sex, and I’m sorry. But it’s the truth. Most relationships require sex in order for it to work. Certainly there’s a different kind of relationship when one is sexual and another isn’t. There’s a great spark and chemistry you see in relationships where both partners are satisfying each other socially, emotionally, as well as sexually.

Yeah, I’m sorry, but sex is pretty big criteria in a relationship with me. It’s a measure of creativity, spontanaeity, and openness. And there might be grading on a curve ‘cos you’re a nice guy, but girl’s keeping score.

I’m back in the dating scene, you see. Nothing serious, no one with a future yet. But I’m optimistic. It has me thinking, though. I’ve always loved writing about sex (but I don’t show much publically) and I’m thinking I now have a particular goal I’m lusting after.

If the Hearst Publishing Empire is listening, my absolute dream job would be that of a sex columnist in some oppulent rag like Esquire. I’m totally serious. I’m about to pitch the idea of a sex columnist to a new ezine that’s very “Playgirl”. They seem to like my stuff, and I’d enjoy the job, but not the pay (miniscule).

I’m blunt, I’m funny, and I’m unapologetic, most of the time, and I think I got the know-how to pull it off. After all, back in the day, I worked at a bookstore for about three years. I had this lesbian boss who was a human kinetics teacher in another life, and she took women’s studies and human sexuality very seriously. We had a wonderful “sexuality” section, and I worked a lot of slow nightshifts.

Nothing like getting paid to learn. ;)

A sex column, though? How hilarious a workday would that be?

Dear Cunning Linguist: “My boyfriend read this story on some blog about a couple who had sex against a port-a-john at a concert series, and now he wants to try it next week at the Summer Slam Fest. What should I do?”

Cunning Linguist: “Wear clean underwear and earplugs.”