Ya Done Messed Up, Boy (or) Time To Grow Up, Y'all

And now for something relatively controversial.  But its okay, since its been long enough since the event, and I don't care about offending anyone regarding this topic.

Hugh Hefner ruined sex.

*mic drop*

(Good game everybody.)

Don't believe me?  Well consider how his life's goal was to make it so young men (boys, really) didn't have to grow up.  He built an empire on making sex meaningless.  Seriously.  How else do you describe "self-centered pleasure without any form of connection?"  He made sex a commodity that people could buy.  He disconnected it from the relationship.

By making sex meaningless, Hefner made sex pointless.

What's the point of sex if it is nothing but a physical attraction and an enjoyable release?  Hefner sought this, like a starving man at an all-you-can-eat buffet.  But his empire, its legacy, and those who've built upon it, have lead millions to be unable to slake their thirst.

Anyone remember the first Pirate of the Caribbean movie?  Specifically when Barbossa is explaining the curse?  How he and his crew are constantly seeking but unable to be satisfied.  Whether that be in lifting the curse or enjoying something as simple as an apple.  What Hefner did is exploit that natural (and understandable) hunger to make money.

In a way, Hefner (and those in the same "business") are like a water salesman in the desert who keeps giving people salt water.  He knows you are dying of thirst, and willing to pay anything to quench it, but he also knows that what he sells will leave you thirstier and coming back for more in a vain attempt at satisfaction.

Many think sex is just about the "fun."  And don't get me wrong, sex is fun.  Or, to be as specific (and appropriate) as possible: sex between a man and woman who are married is fun.  If it wasn't, do you really think there'd be such a preoccupation with it in our society?

And before you say otherwise, yes, America is overly fascinated by sex.  Between Hefner's work, the bikini, increasingly risque shows and moves, whole shops filled with contrivances meant for pleasure, and an industrialization of making the "consequences" go away, the only time we don't talk about sex in this country is when we're complaining about football or politics.

So then what is the point of sex?  Scientifically the primary purpose of sex is procreation.  Children.  One man and one woman contribute a half-set of DNA for the making of a new human.  (And, yes, the conventional way to "build" a new person is the tried-and-true method.)

Or, in other words, the point of sex is for a husband and wife to be intimate.  Intimate, as in so close they are "one flesh."  Literally.  A part of each of them so close it will never be separated.

(I'll wait patiently for you to pick up the debris from the mind blown moment there.)

Now, I am being a little "over the top" since the reality is more involved.  I dare not say complicated, since life is complicated regardless.  Intimacy is more than just children.  Usually people mean "sex" when they say "intimacy," but even that is overly simplified.  Intimacy in a broader sense is a husband and wife being as close as any two people can be.  Like I said earlier, that means kids, but its more than that.

There are facets of me that my parents don't know (or don't know very well), and there are sides of me that my coworkers never see.  But my wife?  She knows me better than me.  That's what sex is about.

Almost like that's how God planned it.  (Take that, Hef.)

Want some more to chew on?  Check out a recent episode from Issues ETC: Rethinking Consent-Based Sexual Morality (listen here).