Thursday, June 02, 2005

Streetcorner love

Overheard on the walk home, while waiting on a street corner for the light to change:

Young woman #1: "…But you guys fight all the time."
Young woman #2 (pushing a stroller): "Yeah, but the sex is great." [YW#2's tone turns wistfully playful, slurring her words ever-so-slightly, as if re-living a post-coital moment right there.] "I mean… it's like… it's like movie sex, you know?"

Note: I was clearly standing within earshot; she was rather proud of this, obviously. The light turns green and we three start across the street.

YW#1: "Well, no, I wouldn't know."
YW#2: "It's like…"

At this point we reached the other corner and our paths diverged, but there was a tiny bit more of YW#2's explanation I overheard. However, let's instead shift to what I thought at that moment:
Um, it's simulated, and performed in front of cameras and a crew, then edited so it fades to black before it gets to the good part?

Okay, now let's pick up that very tail of her explanation:
YW#2: "…passionate."

Oh, passionate sex! Egad, who ever heard of such a thing? Isn't it supposed to just be a perfunctory act that merely achieves the continuation of the species? If I didn't have such respect for others' right to lead their lives as they see fit—or rather, if I gave a crap—I would have reversed course and given her a good talking to. Yes, indeedy, a good talking to. However, I needed to get home because I had to pee.

During that last block's distance to the door of my building, while I ignored my bladder, I did start to ponder whether my girlfriend and I really had a sufficiently passionate sex life. I mean, I certainly thought we did, but then, we don't fight very much. Could we simply be deluding ourselves? Could we possibly have great sex merely because we loved each other, without screaming at each other the rest of the time, and without it occurring in front of a crew (at least as far as I'm allowed to admit here)? Was the fact that we actually enjoyed each other's company when we had our clothes on preclude us from getting the most out of when we didn't have clothes on? Did the fact we don't go around fondly reminiscing our escapades while strangers could hear indicate we had nothing to fondly reminisce?

Hold on. She was identified as "young," right? In fact, by my estimation, she would need a fake ID to get in a bar. I know I was completely stupid at that age (less stupid than I am now, at least).

And let's not overlook the fact she was pushing a stroller. That's the key: Clearly she was not having this "movie sex" with the father of her child.



Perhaps the out-of-context remarks of strangers should be ignored out of hand, but isn't it more fun to dismiss her implicit formula for great sex by concocting this elaborate scenario of an ignorant slut, who gets knocked up, pops out the kid and then immediately starts sleeping around, thereby making her someone who should not be used as a gauge for anything?

In any case, crisis averted.

And for those of you who need all the loose ends tied up: Yes, I did make it home and to the restroom without wetting myself. (I really don't thank my parents often enough for potty training me all those many years ago.)

No comments:

Post a Comment

So, what do you think?