Sex is not love. But love is sex.
It's pretty tough for me to even imagine having the sex talk with my kids yet. They're still so young; one of them is just getting ready to walk; my oldest one is in Kindergarten. Yet, sex is everywhere. It's unavoidable.
From burger ads on the TV to basically half of what's online at any given moment, the basic urge to get laid hovers over each and every human being like the sun in the sky. And that's not necessarily a bad thing, really. In fact, it's perfectly natural, this whole sex thing.
It's a pretty cool part of being alive.
We are programmed deep within our most primal DNA to procreate, right? In a lot of ways, humanity is just a vast army of horndogs unconsciously guaranteeing that civilization doesn't fizzle out. A douchey dude winks at a hottie across a crowded bar and it's easy to dismiss it as nothing much at all. But in reality, it's nature in full effect. It might be cheesy as hell, and Lord knows ... it usually doesn't work (trust me on that one), but it is what it is, and what it is is rooted in some pretty important stuff.
But what will I tell my kids when it's time for dear old dad to bust out the whole birds and the bees lecture?
I've been thinking about that lately as I realize how fast my life is whipping by me. Before very long at all, I need to be ready to give my kids what damn well may end up being one of the most critical lectures they'll ever listen to. It's freakin' harrowing, just the idea of it.
But you know what? I know what I need to say. I'm 43 now and I've had my share of the two kinds of sex: 1) The island of Friday Night Drunken Stranger Hookups and 2) LoveSex Mountain.
I know what's up. And I intend to tell my kids the truth without skipping stuff (when they're, like, 29 ... what's the rush, right?)
Here's the most important thing I'm going to tell them: Even though the random slash-n-burn bathroom stall with a total stranger kind of sex can be immensely satisfying in some serious primal ways, it really isn't all that bad*ss when you measure it up against LoveSex. Because LoveSex is just cooler and better and more meaningful and it won't f*ck your life up in ways that are as demented as hookup sex.
Sex with someone you actually have real feelings for and are attracted to on a bunch of levels (intellectually, soulfully, conversationally, physically) is far, far more satisfying than the kind of sex that just turns your mind into a Jell-O shot (pure physical connection).
And sadly, this notion — that sex is better with someone you love — was once looked upon as chivalrous and intriguing and even modern, but nowadays people laugh in your face.
There's a new school of sad/twisted sexcapade logic raining down from the cyber-sky these days, but it's a false prophet. People are acting as if their burning desire for basic human fulfillment can be quenched for years on end just by hooking up with whomever they want, whenever they want. As if their sexuality will be satisfied by a life of endless lovers and short stints, by never allowing themselves to settle down/get hurt/feel love/taste the bloody lip of real human connection.
The hook-up culture is just humanity turning on itself, sad and dejected, confused like some emo teenager who knows there's more to be had but can't find it in a world of dullard jocks and mindless bimbos. This whole 21st century notion that some people try and convince themselves of — that any wise and emancipated soul, in order to be truly free, doesn't ever need to partner up — is the one notion I really want my kids to avoid.
Of course, there are times when the random, wild sex with someone (whose name you cannot remember for the life of you) can absolutely rule.
Sex should be so cool. And sometimes: random. And often: spontaneous. And if you're down with it: crazy. And it ought to be something that invigorates you and inspires you and makes you feel worthwhile and wanted and needed at times. Not just when you're young, either.
But in the end, this is what I really really want my three kids to understand as far as all my prattling on and on about sex goes: If you never let your sexual drive help to lead you towards someone you want to spend the rest of your life with (or say, the next 7-10 years, let's be realistic), than I think you are either one of two things: scared or f*cking stupid.
I could be wrong, of course. There's always that possibility.
But I'm not.