Rainy Day Women

It’s rainy, and I have no coffee.

Sometimes sex is just about human contact.

I see people talk about this fact like it’s very sad.

I think the idea is that a normal, healthy, well-rounded individual gets the basic human contact quota met through friends and family. Hugs, handshakes, shared living space and lap sitting; the way it is supposed to be.  Our primitive minds and psyches are not caught up to industrialization and post-modernity. The assumption is that the Age Old and Pure Indigenous Peoples of Somewhere didn’t have sex for simple human contact. They got human contact through non-sexual means. They, presumably, lived like those blue aliens in that 3D movie that did so well. Because, before the fall, everything was perfect and food popped up out of the ground. Before the world was ruined and everyone talked via plastic and wires.

Subsequently, modern man is a uniquely isolated specimen in a disenchanted world stripped of humanity and meaning.

This sort of narrative is so prevalent that it’s gotta be mostly bullshit, right?

We got kicked out of Eden how long ago? This is just how we are.

Whether it’s all bullshit or not, there is stigma attached to sex for human contact. Worse still, sex solely for fleeting affection. It speaks of a sort of weakness.  It means you’re lonely.  And, you must be lonely because you have issues. You are not right. You don’t fit into the tribe. But, of course, we come from a tribe that puts a huge emphasis on individuality.

You shouldn’t need this.

I don’t know why normal, healthy, well-rounded individuals have sex, in this system–I suppose some combination of lust and orgasm seeking?  For fun? Love? To reproduce? For some sort of hippie soul-bonding experience?

I don’t know.

But it’s surely not for solace.

This plays out in the stories we cling to about sex and meaning, but that will have to be another rainy day entry.