I Know It's Only Gettin' Ends, But I Like It
"Which would you rather give up, sex or rock 'n' roll?" a friend asked me a few months ago.
"Ahh--holy shit," I replied.
I like to get laid. A lot. This being the case, my initial reaction was, of course, that I would much rather give up rock 'n' roll over sex.
Some of the most exhilarating and memorable moments of my life have been during a session of sexual congress with a hopelessly beautiful woman. Impossibly hopelessly beautiful.
But then I had a thought.
"Can I jerk off?" I asked.
"Yeah, I suppose, but no BJs, no handjobs, and no sex that involves another person whatsoever."
"Wait, so can I listen to jazz and classical?"
"Yeah, I guess."
OK, so in that case, my answer is, definitely and definitively, that I would much rather give up sex than rock 'n' roll.
This is a question that has to be considered only from the standpoint of sex as entertainment and pleasure, not procreation. Obviously, if we take the often-used standard for morality of applying the behavior in question to all people, this would not be the best choice.
But if we ask the question of sex as a recreational pastime vs. listening to rock music, I'm pretty convinced that the world would be much better off with my decision. Think of all the time wasted in the pursuit of booty! The chasing, the fantasizing, the hours and hours of masturbation, the frustration from rejection after rejection--how much more productive would we be as a species if sex were simply just another part of a relationship, and not the one, all-encompassing focus that saturates the mind of every person on the planet hour after hour, day after day, lifetime after lifetime? A lot more, that's how much.
A small test that I've endured recently has solidified my stance on the matter. In the last four months, two weeks, and six days, I have not caressed, licked, inserted, or stimulated any part of any woman. I'm not exactly content with the situation, but I'm dealing with it. Alternatively, it took me two days to drive across the North Island of New Zealand twice, and in that time, my iPod ran out of batteries. It was maddening, and by the time I finally got it charged enough to use again, the relief I felt was approximately seven times greater than any sex I've ever had.
It's like Mick Jagger says in that one song, "Wild Horses", I know it's only rock and roll, but I still like it a lot more than coitus.
"Ahh--holy shit," I replied.
I like to get laid. A lot. This being the case, my initial reaction was, of course, that I would much rather give up rock 'n' roll over sex.
Some of the most exhilarating and memorable moments of my life have been during a session of sexual congress with a hopelessly beautiful woman. Impossibly hopelessly beautiful.
But then I had a thought.
"Can I jerk off?" I asked.
"Yeah, I suppose, but no BJs, no handjobs, and no sex that involves another person whatsoever."
"Wait, so can I listen to jazz and classical?"
"Yeah, I guess."
OK, so in that case, my answer is, definitely and definitively, that I would much rather give up sex than rock 'n' roll.
This is a question that has to be considered only from the standpoint of sex as entertainment and pleasure, not procreation. Obviously, if we take the often-used standard for morality of applying the behavior in question to all people, this would not be the best choice.
But if we ask the question of sex as a recreational pastime vs. listening to rock music, I'm pretty convinced that the world would be much better off with my decision. Think of all the time wasted in the pursuit of booty! The chasing, the fantasizing, the hours and hours of masturbation, the frustration from rejection after rejection--how much more productive would we be as a species if sex were simply just another part of a relationship, and not the one, all-encompassing focus that saturates the mind of every person on the planet hour after hour, day after day, lifetime after lifetime? A lot more, that's how much.
A small test that I've endured recently has solidified my stance on the matter. In the last four months, two weeks, and six days, I have not caressed, licked, inserted, or stimulated any part of any woman. I'm not exactly content with the situation, but I'm dealing with it. Alternatively, it took me two days to drive across the North Island of New Zealand twice, and in that time, my iPod ran out of batteries. It was maddening, and by the time I finally got it charged enough to use again, the relief I felt was approximately seven times greater than any sex I've ever had.
It's like Mick Jagger says in that one song, "Wild Horses", I know it's only rock and roll, but I still like it a lot more than coitus.
posted by Chris Cusack at 2:28 PM
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