This Friday, on Good Morning, I have to talk about contraception. Who buys it, the man or the woman? Who sees to it?
   I don’t know about Barry and Paul, but since they are older than me, they may have the same difficulties talking about the subject. Or, they might not, because they will have permission from their partners to raise aspects of their family planning.
   I was raised at a time when you didn’t discuss your sex life on live national television. No one did. I’m not particularly sure I want to now.
   It was enough that Rob and Laura Petrie hinted at it, and left us wondering whose bed they made love in. Was Richie conceived in Rob’s bed or Laura’s bed? A friend and I once worked out that Mary Richards slept with 10 per cent of the available single, straight male population of Minneapolis based on the presumption she was having relationships with the male guest star roles hinted at in The Mary Tyler Moore Show. But we didn’t need to see them in the bedroom.
   But sitcoms these days tend to have the couple, married or unmarried, sharing a post-coital cigarette. Oh, maybe they don’t. Smoking is dangerous.
   I have no cultural reference to discuss contraception, at least not in a friendly, G-rated way that my 9.40 a.m. timeslot allows.
   Do I really want to tell people my brand of condoms? Or who wound up looking at contraception? More to the point, do people really want to know? Is it even possible to do this with a G rating?
   I’ve the odd story, of course—but since the other people are not involved in a relationship with me now, then who am I to spill the beans on live TV? Do I call them up today and ask? Of course not.
   I read in The Washington Post this quote from Naomi Wolf, which is quite telling of today’s society:

The downside [of feminist sexual autonomy] is we’ve raised a generation of young women—and men—who don’t understand sexual ethics like: Don't sleep with a married man; don’t sleep with a married woman; don’t embarrass people with whom you had a consensual sexual relationship. They don’t see sex as sacred or even very important anymore. That’s been lost. Sex has been commodified and drained of its deeper meaning.

   I think the closest and most innocent that I can recall that might be OK for a G rating is when a friend went on vacation and didn’t prepare any contraceptives ready. Fortunately, I had some on me (don’t ask me why; it’s a not-so-long story).
   But I have a good image that I enjoy as a gentleman, and if Cary Grant didn’t harp on about this, then neither should I. I still see sex as sacred and important.
   I’m also hoping to embark on something new with someone special, and I thank God she doesn’t know about this blog and this entry yet, and probably won’t be watching on Friday morning. This is not a discussion we need to have now, and she does not need to think I am sex-obsessed. (She does deserve her own blog entry, but only after I have her permission, and that is only going to come after this one is well off the main blog page.)
   Suggestions on how to get around this would be appreciated—if the server ever gets fixed. Posted by Jack Yan, 22:40  permalink

comments

Post a Comment  Links to this post