birds do it...bees do it...

Birds do it...bees do it...
Even educated fleas do it...
Let's do it...
Let's fall in love...

The most refined lady bugs do it
When a gentleman calls...
Moths in your rugs they do it
What's the use of moth balls?

I'm sure giraffes
on the sly
do it
Even eagles as they fly
Do it
Let's do it...
Let's fall in love

The Dutch in old Amsterdam do it
Not to mention the Fins
Folks in Siam do it...
Think of Siamese twins

The world admits
bears in pits
Do it
Even pekineses at the Ritz
Do it
Let's do it
Let's fall in love

Electric eels
I might add
Do it
Though it shocks 'em, I know
Why ask if shad do it...
Garcon, de "shad roe"

The royal set sans regret did it
And they considered it fun
Marie Antoinette did it -
with or without Napoleon

The chimpanzees in the zoos do it
Sentimental centipedes do it
Let's do it
Let's fall in love...

Alright, I know Cole Porter was ostensibly writing about love here, but face it...all those clever lyrics are really about SEX. And maybe it's because I'm reading Bukowski, or maybe it's because I listened to Primetime tonight, or maybe I'm trying to balance out my mundane entry about a relaxing Labor Day, or maybe it's because...well, nevermind why, the why doesn't really matter, but for what it's worth, tonight I'm writing about sex.

A couple of light years ago, when I was a student at the University of Chicago, I became smitten with a bright, funny guy, who was apparently equally smitten with me. We spent lots of happy time together, quipping and flirting outrageously through weeks of warm, sunny days and crisp, clear nights that fall quarter, but we never got beyond flirting, in part because (as he announced regularly and publicly), he was a virgin, and I was not...and each of us was a little afraid of each other, because of that difference. We liked each other so much that we became great friends, nevertheless, and stayed in touch over the years.

By his own account, sex was highly problematic for D. He wasn’t confused about his orientation, he said (and I believed him); but he was consumed with guilt at the thought of having sex. He remained a virgin until he was in his late 20's...he kept me informed of the situation, although I’d have preferred to have been kept in the dark, so to speak. In his early 30's, he became engaged, but eventually, his fiancee left him, and he never married. Over the years, he was at times a member of a number of groups that I tend to think of as cults, e.g., EST. I always told him how I felt about his membership in such organizations, and we often argued about it.

In the early 90's, he became a member of a group that espoused celibate marriage. When I wrote him that I was getting divorced, he phoned late one night, and after we’d talked for a long time, he cleared his throat and asked me if I’d consider marrying him. I was touched by his asking me, and yet I was also very taken aback. He’d been like a brother to me for over 20 years, and I had no reason to think he’d viewed me as anything other than a sister (of which, by the way, he already had 6, thanks to his parents).

“I’m honored, D, I really am...but I don’t think it would work,” I said carefully.

“But we’re such good friends!” he said.

“Yeah, we are...we’re great friends...and that’s not going to change just because I get divorced. We can keep on being great friends. We don’t have to get married to stay great friends,” I said.

“I dunno, I’d sort of like to be married...” he said.

A light went on in my head.

“Whoa, D,” I said... “do you mean celibate marriage?”

“Well, sure I do,” he said, “You know that’s what I believe in, and it’s not like we’d have to have sex to have kids...you already have four kids, and I don’t want any...”

“A celibate marriage?!?!?! Is that what you’re proposing?!?!?!”

“Don’t act surprised!!! You know that’s what I believe in!!!”

“Yeah, but D,” I said, “It’s not what I believe in..."

I should have stopped then, I know, but I didn't.

"And anyway," I continued, "You can’t ask for that right away. It’s not reasonable."

Unable to resist, I added slyly, "Trust me, it takes YEARS to achieve a state of celibacy in marriage...”

I was reminded of all this, because tonight, as I sat in my gameroom at my computer and browsed real estate in St. Louis on the web, I had the tv on in the background, and ABC’s Primetime did a show called "The Outsiders: Strange Arrangements”, about, among other things, people who are asexual (as opposed to people who are celibate, like my friend, D).

Apparently, there’s a growing movement of asexuality in the United States (dunno about Europe or the rest of the world), and for those of you who, like me, were blissfully unaware of this movement, there is (of course) a website where you can find out more, called the Asexual Visibility and Education Network, or AVEN for short. According to AVEN, “Unlike celibacy, which is a choice, asexuality is a sexual orientation”.

We’re so bombarded with sexuality, perhaps this movement was inevitable, and yet...I dunno, maybe it’s my Scandinavian heritage, but to me, saying you don’t believe in sex is sort of like saying you don’t believe in eating...my reaction is, “Yeah, riiiiiigggghhhhttt...” And then I have a strong urge to quote Dr. Phil, “So how’s that workin’ for ya?”

What can I say? I’m just not that sublimated.

Sweet dreams.