Sex. Therapy.

Sex. Therapy.

by Evan McArthur Kane

You know the feeling. A euphoria layered cake. Iced with bliss. The flutters and the tremors. Pangs of anticipation. Tension heated to a rolling boil. The floods and the quakes. That magic carpet ride. The light–and the afterglow. Just thinking about it makes something damn good happen inside. Now imagine participating. Satiating. Everyday. Now imagine it being prescribed. Horizontal happy pills–with your name on the bottle–with unlimited refills. Take two of these….and call me in the morning–or whenever it pleases you so.

Sex and therapy should be redundant, if not explicitly synonymous. How shameful that society has held such a longstanding discomfort with sex that the benefits can’t be promoted fully and openly. This is done both with subliminal and overt intentions, largely to promote the status quo of the nuclear family. But the reality is that sex, on its own merit, has a far greater staying power. Sex is central to relationships, not the other way around. The paradox of not appearing to advocate for promiscuity, in a world where sex permeates, is both archaic and counter-intuitive. Our eyes alone can ingest enough sexual imagery for us to mind-f*ck ourselves into an orgasmic coma. But we repress it, ceding to inner emotions and outward appearances. Sexual discourse echoes almost exclusively of the thrill and all too sparingly of the therapy. Worse still, you’ll heard the “Sex isn’t everything…” proclamations thrown about by people who have been influenced and convinced to downplay the fruits of foreplay. No, sex isn’t “everything.”  No thing is everything. But few things–perhaps none–come as close.

This isn’t about how you like it. It’s about how often you like it. The therapeutic has less to do with your variable drive on the road of intercourse and more to do with your regular maintenance schedule. Is it necessary to remind you of the many times you’ve noticed someone with an abrupt change in their disposition, that was directly related to them assuming the position? But I could not write these words in good conscience without at least cursorily undressing addressing the quality vs. quantity arguments that are undoubtedly stirring in the minds of the under-sexed skeptics and puritanical zealots who have missed out on a naked wrestling match or three. Quality and quantity are not adversaries. If fact, they work best in concert. Quantity gives you room to explore what best is yet to come. Quality will knock on the door for more–and more–and then some.

There is (almost) no such thing as bad sex–an understatement underscored by the scores of benefits* that you may experience before, during and after copulation. I don’t want to bore you (pun unintended) with the biology and neuroscience, but let’s take a quick stroll through a partial list of Happy Endings: stress reduction, blood-pressure reduction, decreased risk of prostate cancer, increased immunity, pain relief, better sleep, youthful appearance and let’s not forget the calories you shed in the sheets. Then of course there’s the most immediately O-bvious benefit.

The orgasm is an incomparable state of being. It is the prestige of our bodily magic. The trick everyone wants and waits for, but no one can explain or interpret. It doesn’t just “feel” good, it is good. Nothing gives your nerves more nerve or oils the armor of your esteem and confidence like the oxytocin infusion of “The Big O.” But even a “Lil’ O” can go a long way to ensuring that your hormones are sufficiently balanced. Every system in the human body is designed to function for our optimal health and well-being. So why treat sex like an indulgent reward rather than a necessary regimen!?

Now go get it…and get well. I’ll see you again next week…

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