I have never seen my parents hot kiss. They just peck.
But the moment of love, is always that moment before. When my mom laughs at something my dad says (generally a very stupid joke), then she says something along the lines of “I can’t believe I married you” or “my husband is silly,” and then their eyes meet, smiling. Then she leans over and pecks him. It’s not the love in the movies or the novels. It’s in that grinning, familiar look they give eachother, a look of knowing through many years.
All this garbage with breathy music and alcohol and libido medications and perfumes and scented mood candles and naughty nighties is…scratching the surface. It’s pathetic. They only get the first 5% of sexual love, and then play it over and over like a scratched CD. And apparently the passion ain’t enough…you need all the perks & tricks & help you can get because even animal sensuality runs out after a spell. Apparently their sex is dulling…like an old bent needle, used again and again for that same old drug trip.
But it is wrong, because people aren’t old bent needles, to be thrown away some day (carefully, of course, in medically-certified sharps boxes).
These bodies were meant to be ancient temples. Altars. Where the Holy Spirit of the Most High God dwells.
It is true we are animals, but we are sacred animals. Profane, humdrum, ordinary things can’t be blasphemed. (It’s impossible to blaspheme a can opener, a telephone pole, or a slug.) But we aren’t ordinary things. Our bodies aren’t ordinary things. We are sacred. Every part of our body is sacred.
And so…because we ourselves are sacred, we can blaspheme ourselves.
The stakes are very, very high. That is why “it” all matters.