Wondering this morning why God thought it was a good idea to code such potent, powerful things as sex and sexual drive into our human experience. We’re watching a TV show at the moment that includes (surprise) a couple romantic storylines. It crossed my mind this morning how rare, appealing, and unlikely it seems that maybe any of these pre-incorporation love tensions might be resolved in some kind of eloquent, passionate, words-only soliloquy to the other person, who could then profess their feelings in kind (words) or, better yet, maybe go home and think about it first before establishing a romantic relationship. What we’ll probably get is the typical hands-on, lust-burgeoning, do-don’t-talk encounter that feels like a drink spilling over (and probably will include this era’s ubiquitous witness, alcohol) and results in a somewhat embarrassed (or even panicked) day-after clarification in someone’s bedroom.

Given this sequence seems the only romantic playbook our generation imbibes, at least through media, I’m sure even the average four year old would be able to predict the basic plot points (even if that four year old doesn’t understand the significance or anatomy, though even that I wouldn’t necessarily assume these days) of that scene in any cinematic rendering.

Sex is powerful, potent stuff. It begets great pleasure. It creates great harm. It also makes inception possible, and this throwaway detail (by most mainstream muses’ standards) ends up a most affecting, and often painful, part of the experience this world’s denizens seem far less equipped to navigate afterwards.

God, You’ve left the keys to the liquor cabinet lying on the counter. The kids are in, and there’s booze all over the place. Sometimes I wish the scenario looked different for our own sakes.

-LS