All that recent contemplation about death got me to thinking about sex – and I’m sure Freud would have understood. But what I don’t understand is: what was the causal factor that moved my brain from my little head back up to my big head (where I’m hoping my brain belongs…because life seems so much easier when the brain is lodged up there)?
When the brain resides in the little head – it tends to spend a great deal of money in search of a warm wet circle. Indeed, the brain can often pop out of the little head when seductive members of the opposite gender cruise by. Only my male readers can appreciate that desire to “jump on” the fairer sex when the little head desires it. But to be sure, I’ve met a few younger ladies in-the-past-few-years who don’t seem to have the same inhibitions as sober women of my generation do (and the generation preceding me) – but still, these ladies DON’T HAVE a little head – and they actually want the little head plugged in…
Does one have to turn 50 before the carnal crush where’s off? Oh, I know – there are plenty of aberrations to such an assumption – Hugh Hefner being a notable example. But that’s when I seemed to run-out-of-steam for chasing the fairer sex…
Was it because I’d sampled a certain quota of the larger-breasted of our species — that I no longer worried about whether the “other” guy was getting a better piece than I was? That I actually felt happy for the other guy because he got to roll-in-the-hay with the goddess that I no longer had the energy to pursue!? Because let’s face it – the older you get, the more this sex stuff seems like a hellovalotta work! I mean, how many-of-us who have enjoyed plenty-of-sex over-the-years — can contemplate it for breakfast, lunch and dinner day-in and day-out (Viagra assisted Hugh, excepted)?!
Or, did the “jump on anything looking hot” syndrome disappear because I finally enjoyed having sex with a single partner and viewed having sex with an extraneous partner as a foolish act that could jeopardize my health (and hers)? Did I finally cultivate social mores at age 50?
Or, did I finally wish to start building my estate – and quit pissing my money away on that moist rose that had no call or concern vis-à-vis my dreams and visions of what my life could be about – and perhaps, passing something material along to my progeny so that they might have it better than I did?
I’ve asked many questions in this little foray about Shakespeare’s “lean and slippered pantaloon” stage – but I’ve had to – because there hopefully comes-a-point when sex NO LONGER makes the world go round. Because let’s face it – if it’s all about sex, then perhaps it is true that the biggest dicks rule! And if it’s the biggest dicks are indeed in charge – then we know where their brains are kept! And this should explain why things have got so fucked up! I can only hope that in the very near future – the big dicks experience a migration to the larger head – and that the hope for our species is left to THIS head, and not, to the little one.