The Four Forbiddens - Part 1:
Birds -- No Bees
About dusk, we hear him wailing across the stream -- in a desperate sexual frenzy. The Whip-Poor-Will starts his nightly hunt for a female to bed down with. A strictly nocturnal bird, he sleeps all day on the forest floor disguised as ground cover and comes alive as the sun goes down.
Sounds like some of my old friends.
Like them, I imagine the Whip-Poor-Will hanging out at the bird bath, Michelob in hand, chattin' up the chicks! He's using his best line -- a loud, shrill, distinct whistle.
And he doesn't let up! All night long, he circumnavigates our house chasing the birds! Unless he hears a girl off in the distance, he keeps talking -- showing off, bein' all sexy! And finally, little Whip-Poor-Willhimena, takes pity on him and he does a little Whip dance.
Obviously, I don't know much about Whip-Poor-Wills or other birds, so I make up the facts as I see them. (My apology to real birders.) I didn't know much about sex either, so I made up those facts too. When I think about sex (you may remember that was the first of our Four Forbiddens -- the other three topics that we don't dare speak about in polite company were Money, Religion and Politics), Whip-Poor-Will represents one segment of the population I knew briefly pretty well -- the prowlers.
The prowlers hang out wherever the action is, looking for the next sexual conquest, while stoking the ire of the righteous who are convinced that talking about sex in constructive ways only feeds the afflicted -- the sex maniacs as we use to call them when I was a kid. As children, we used to whisper about "sex maniacs," especially the female of the species, the "nymphomaniacs." In all my years of . . . Well, never mind. Just suffice it say, I never met one.
Unfortunately, the prowlers, maybe the poor Whip-Poor-Will too, have confused sex with love. Lonely people confused by peer pressure pursue the idea that if only someone would sleep with me, I'll feel less alone. I'll feel good. I'll find fulfillment in that other person. And, especially today, when sexually transmitted diseases are on the rise, Russian Roulette could be a similar, less deadly diversion.
Maybe I'm just old, but "sexy" has taken on new meaning. Beautiful younger women are cute, but give me an independent woman with a brain any day! I have to admit I wasn't always like that: When my daughter was 23, I embarrassed the bejeesus out of her by dating a woman who was near her age!
But I know that women my age see sex (and what's sexy) differently too. One day, when my wife was watching Oprah (whew! Almost admitted I was watching Oprah! Good catch!), I overheard her saying:
Yes, a woman thinks foreplay is when a man washes the dishes!
It's easy see why the world's confused about sex and love though. Sex sells -- everything! What were the most popular television series of the last couple of years? This year's Desperate Housewives picks up right where last year's Sex in the City leaves off - if the New York girls moved to suburbia.
How does that old song go? Looking for love in all the wrong places . . . That was code in my generation for idea of sex. We all knew it. Today, we don't need a code. It's just out there, but not in a constructive way. My beautiful wife teaches music to high school students. She ask them last week which radio stations they listened to for the popular music. She wanted to be in touch. Immediately, and many times after, she's heard a song by 50 Cent. (First, what kind of name is that?) Here are the lyrics - at least some of them:
Candy Shop (By 50 Cent)
(50 Cent)
I take you to the candy shop
I'll let you lick the lollypop
Go 'head girl, don't you stop
Keep going 'til you hit the spot (woah)
[Olivia]
I'll take you to the candy shop
Boy one taste of what I got
I'll have you spending all you got
Keep going 'til you hit the spot (woah) . . .
. . . Okay, enough already. I'm not posting the rest -- I'm blushing. But if you want to read it (it's way over the top -- makes Wake Up Little Suzy seem like a nursery rhyme,) go to this site.
I've got another bird story -- the antidote.
While Mr. Whip-Poor-Will is stumbling home from his nocturnal carousing, knocking over trashcans and just generally making way too much noise, before going to bed, Mr. and Mrs. Cardinal, who mate for life by the way, have been flitting around the dogwood tree chirping merrily welcoming the day.
I was sitting in my favorite chair one morning this week when I saw a red streak flash by the window. I looked across the deck to see Mrs. Cardinal sitting on a branch near the bird feeder. Mr. Cardinal flew up, landing in the feeder bowl, and came back to the branch next to the little wife, gently nosing toward her as she turned to get the seed from his beak that he was offering. With a gentle kiss, he gave her the seed, then hopped up a branch to give her space as he watched her enjoy it from above.
That was love. And very sexy! The proof's in all the little Cardinals running around. What a peaceful and beautiful co-existence the Cardinals shared that day! Mr. Cardinal taught me two lessons that day:
- Nothing is more sexy than a confident, happy, independent woman
- True love is a lot less noisy than sex maniacs on the prowl
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