Sex Machines

…well, to be frank, I think it’s gross…and it’s weird. Guys sticking their dicks in each other’s butts is just weird. I just can’t reconcile with that. An’ I don’t care if the two queens have been together for eight-hundred years either.

But two girls?

I have to admit, that one has gotten me ‘there’ a few times. But still, that shit’s evil too.

Why?

It’s perverted. Goes against what’s natural.

But you ‘naturally’ got off on it?

In a moment of weakness. Look, although I know it’s wrong, the idea of two girls isn’t gross to me.

Why?

Because women aren’t gross. Men are.

But you’re a man.

Yes, and I’m gross.

Then what does that say about the women who have slept with you?

It says that they abide by the natural laws of the universe.

How many children do you have?

None.

Did you use birth control with the women you slept with?

Yes…sometimes…what are you getting at?

You disobeyed the natural law.

No, I didn’t. I just didn’t want any kids. Look, can we have this conversation inside? We’re in polite company out here.

Okay, after you.

All right, so where were we?

You were justifying disobeying natural laws.

No I wasn’t. I see what you’re trying to do here. Not gonna work. I’m a man, they were women, that’s all that matters. We were in the right.

But how do you know for certain? You are moralizing.

There are books. Old ones. A lotta stuff in them about what sex is good sex and what is perverse. They’re like instruction manuals. Well, not like sex-ed, more like warnings about the side effects.

Which one do you like?

The Bible. That’s the one I grew up with.

Oh, the bestseller. I’m kinda familiar with it. But I’ve always wondered why people claim it’s a how-to book, it reads more like art criticism to me.

What the hell are you talking about?

You know—artist vomits on a canvas, critic says it exemplifies mankind’s inherent sickness, says something about the only antidote to this sickness is purging ourselves of our vile thinking, says the vomit represents said purging. Now of course, the artist wasn’t trying to ‘say’ this with the piece. Actually, the artist had no bloody idea what he was trying to say. He just threw up on a damn canvas!

So you’re saying we’re all just vomit?

No, I’m saying that a lot of these religious texts read like an afterthought, an attempt to reconcile with the vagaries of existence. I don’t get a sense of omnipotent, all-seeing, all-knowing authority. Just a clusterfuck of different philosophies—cool, interesting philosophies, but nothing really definitive. And then some of it just seems downright silly, like that bit in your favorite book—Leviticus—there’s a part in there that lumps the consumption of shellfish with gay sex, but which is worse? Or are they both the same? I’ve eaten quite a lot of shrimp in my day.

So have I. I used to go to this all-you-can-eat buffet with the folks from my church back in the day. Good times. We stuffed ourselves silly.

Oh, and that! Right there! What about gluttony?! Is that lesser, worse, or the same as the guy-on-guy stuff?

I think that’s just a little sin, not an abomination like butt sex is.

What the hell is an abomination?

Like some real bad shit. Basement of hell type shit.

Oh. But you used to shovel shrimp in your mouth.

I know, but not dicks. Big difference.

But it’s in the same book!

Yes, I know, but come on, stop trying to be coy, you know damn well eating shrimp is different than butt sex. Oh, and I almost forgot—Jews! That other shit is for the Jews. I can eat as much shellfish as I want, just can’t fuck a dude. Real simple.

Not really, but okay, let’s move on. Let’s go back to the moralizing bit. Why do you think sex feels good?

Simple, so we procreate. That fruitful multiplying stuff.

But why sex? Why not something else? Like intense eye contact.

I don’t know. I guess sex is like a gift.

But it’s so machine-like. All of these fluids are released, there’s friction, blood flowing, sweating and then a nine month gestation or manufacturing period. Without the ‘good feeling’ it’s rather mechanical. We probably wouldn’t moralize it so damn much if it didn’t feel good. It would be an act similar to using the bathroom.

Without the ‘good feeling’ there wouldn’t be any of us.

But the ‘good feeling’ doesn’t always lead to pregnancy.

Yeah, I know, that’s the gift-from-God part. For male and female heterosexual couples only of course.

There you go again, moralizing sex.

But it makes sense. The procreation bit is like God tipping his hat. A man and a woman can perform a freakin’ magic trick! They can ‘create’ another person. It doesn’t matter if we don’t always do that, the fact that we can is enough to know that it’s the only type of relationship that counts. All that other shit is perverse in comparison.

But what about the love between gay couples? Is their love perverted?

No. It’s the sex. They can love the shit outta each other, just gotta keep their dicks out of each other’s butts.

But what if their love is a romantic love? Not a platonic love.

No romance man, that shit’s just gross, we already established that.

Okay, but what about same gender affection? Like between friends?

The lighthearted stuff, between women only though. Like hugging, holding hands, kisses on the cheek. But between men that shit is just weird.

But what if they’re really good friends?

Still weird. Guys just don’t do that.

So what is the appropriate way to show affection to a male friend?

Buy him a drink. Slap him on the back. Cry at his funeral. Shit like that.

Ever taste your own mucus?

What the hell?! How do we go from friendly affection to—what you ask me again?

Ever taste your own mucus? Like post-nasal drip?

Yeah, but what does that have to do with anything?

Doesn’t it taste an awful lot like a woman’s wetness? Isn’t that gross?

Oh come on man. For real? I see what you’re doing here. I get it. Hetero people do gross shit to each other too—blah blah blah. But you’re forgetting one thing. That shit’s just perverted. Not an abomination. And yeah, you ain’t supposed to do it, but we kinda get a pass because we ain’t gettin’ in the way of the sanctity of shit.

What about hairy women? Isn’t that gross?

Yeah, I ain’t into that hirsute shit. A woman is supposed to be smooth.

Well then why do they have to shave? Why must they press hard steel to their soft flesh?

Damn it man. Because that’s the way we, meaning men, like them.

What about a woman showing up to a date without makeup? Isn’t that gross?

Man, I really can’t take this any—

What if she wasn’t wearing any perfume?

You think you’re real slick, don’t you? I know exactly what you’re trying to do asshole.

I’m just saying aren’t these things ‘unnatural?’ Have you seen what they put in makeup?! And what about high-heels? Brutal on the joints. Very impractical.

So what are you saying? Women should look like dykes?

No, I’m just pointing out a little absurdity.

No, you’re trying to break everything down so that it doesn’t make sense anymore. You can do that with anything. Even all that intellectual shit you like. You can reduce everything to nothing.

That was quite profound.

Eat a dick man. It’s obvious you hate women.

Say what?

All that talk about them being ‘naturally’ gross.

No, I never said they were gross, I love women, I was just pointing out the absurdity of trying to define what is natural—especially given the fact that all things, no matter how seemingly synthetic, are composed of elements found in the universe. But I’ll admit, my methods were cumbersome and a bit odd.

No, not cumbersome or odd, more like stupid and aggravating.

Whatever, I think the real point of these texts is to point out the absurdity of trying to live a life free of ‘sin.’ The only way to do so is to die the minute you’re born. But even then you’re damned, unless your birth was the product of a loving married couple that included two rigidly heterosexual people who conceived you via non-perverted sexual intercourse—no fellatio or strange positions. But even then you’re screwed because your parents aren’t pure because they didn’t die right after their own births! And even if they did their parents weren’t pure…well, you see where I’m going. I think the Bible’s authors knew this. I think they were having a little fun with the absurdity of trying to a live a godly life. I don’t think they intended for us to be holy.

Well, maybe not all-the-way-God-like holy, but close.

Close is still too far away. But I think that was the point. We can try, but we’ll never be on ‘His’ level. He is the most high by like an infinity. We will always fall short because we ‘have to’ fall short. We are mere fleshy earth-bound machines incapable of divinity. Incapable of becoming supreme beings. We’re ‘damned’ to a relative existence. It’s all brilliant existentialism when you think about it.

I don’t know about all that. I think it’s about eliminating distractions. Desire can consume you. Desire for anything—from sex to food to money to anything. That’s scary stuff.

The vice becomes your god in a sense. It rules you.

Exactly. And how can you devote yourself to something bigger than the world while consuming the world? I can’t worry myself trying to regulate how much sex I should have or how much ice cream I should eat if I’m trying to be ‘more.’ I have to focus. That means I have to cut that shit out completely. No need to question why. If it’s messing with my focus it has to go.

Just because you’ve given it up doesn’t mean it leaves your mind though.

I’ll just have to redirect those drives.

You mean have a nervous breakdown.

If I have a nervous breakdown then that means I loved the world too much. That I’m weak. That I need to try harder.

But what makes sex and ice cream any different from data-entry work or gardening? Or breathing? Or blinking?

Here you go again, but I’m gonna stop you in your tracks this time. It’s guilt man. It’s guilt.

Well, why do we feel guilty?

Because we’re supposed to. An’ I don’t care if you throw that ‘he’s brainwashed, he’s repressed’ shit at me. Religion, the Bible, preachers—they don’t own guilt. They’re just very good at selling it. It has to be sold to us. And we have to buy it. Guilt is the ‘price’ we pay for life in the world. We can’t just run around doing whatever the hell we want. Could you imagine how horrible life would be if we did that? We would be running around like savages. Not giving a damn about anyone or anything.

But isn’t that what we ‘already’ do?

Yeah, you’re right. But that’s because we have disobeyed God.

Did we ‘ever’ obey God?

Yeah, in the garden, before that silly bitch bit the apple. We’ve been doomed ever since. Only a handful of us even attempt to devote our lives to ‘something more.’ They’re the saved ones, but the rest us—we’re gonna pay.

Hell?

We’re already in hell man.

Well, one man’s hell is another man’s heaven.

Bullshit. It’s all hell. Just think about it, there is no joy without relative pain. There’s no peace without relative destruction. And that right there is what makes this place so fucked up. Joy, happiness—it’s all a joke—just a temporary state of being. And we spend our entire lives chasing the shit. We toil, waste our lives away just for fleeting glimpses of calm, of peace, of something that contradicts the bullshit. What kind of fucked up deal is that?

Sounds like a helluva deal.

Exactly. Literally.

So what’re we supposed to do?

Devote our lives to ‘something’ else, then hope and pray that there is a ‘somewhere’ else.

A better place?

No, a place where ‘better’ doesn’t exist.

Maybe a place where the only ‘thing’ is love.

Yeah, that would be nice.

Maybe we can make ‘this’ place ‘that’ place.

There’s no way.

How do you know? We’ve never really tried.

It’s not in our nature. We’re wicked. Inherently.

Oh yeah, that’s right, we can’t go and disobey those natural laws.

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