It was hot in Oakland last week, at least hot for Oakland—in Phoenix it would have been considered a cold snap. A temperature of 99 degrees broke an old record of 92. By Sunday the weather had cooled somewhat, but it was still warm enough for the neighbors and I to have our windows open, and when I wandered into the bedroom for something, I discovered that one of them, who I’ve never met, was having sex with an exuberantly vocal partner. It wasn’t the first time I had heard sounds of sex in the neighborhood, but I had never heard them with such clarity at such seeming proximity, and I stood there for a bit, transfixed by the intimacy of it.
I was aroused as well as transfixed, which doesn’t happen very often to me these days, whether because of diet, age, or philosophy, and I took advantage of the opportunity to exercise my prostate. I could have easily chuckled, as I did anyway, and gone back to the project that has kept me at the computer for several days—a long overdue rebuilding of my web site, another story—but a study has shone that orgasms are conducive to lower rates of prostate cancer, and another indicates that they promote longevity, reduce depression, and enhance immune function. Being a science and health oriented kind of guy, (I’ll elaborate on “kind of guy” shortly.) I try to do what I can to improve my odds.
The event started me thinking about male/female relationships, and how my own have changed over the years. It seems to have always been the case that I have never had a great need for companionship, or friendship even. I used to say that if what a person wanted was someone to talk to, what difference would it make whether the person they were talking to was male or female—in fact I would still say that, if asked. For me, the only significant difference between men and women is their sexual organs, so the only reason to choose female over male company is for sex—assuming you’re heterosexual.
On the one hand, that assessment seems to reduce women—and men—to the status of sex objects, but if, like me, you think that interpersonal sex is more trouble than it’s worth, it means that if I am choosing to spend time with a woman, it’s because she is a more interesting person than anyone else around—not because I’m trying to get laid.
Actually, I don’t spend much time with people of either sex, because I don’t often encounter people that are interesting enough to spend time with, but I do find myself evaluating the people I run across, both on the basis of sexual attractiveness and general interest. I’m afraid that I stereotype people based on these evaluations, using nothing more than their body language, facial expressions, and the general way they present themselves to others.
Politically incorrect as it is, women are roughly grouped into two categories: those who are unattractive—by the standards my history has laid on me—elicit the silent comment, “I’m sure her vagina functions just as well as anyone else’s.” The more attractive ones call forth, “High maintenance.”
Everyone gets a label for sexual preference, with no real effect on their appeal to me, since I’m not interested in sex anyway.
More subtle groupings apply to both men and women. Everyone gets rated for how comfortable they seem to be with themselves and others, with extremes from totally relaxed to desperately needy. That rating is, for me, synonymous with how interesting they potentially are, since I assume that being relaxed and confident is related to higher levels of intelligence, competence and introspection, and those are the kinds of people I find attractive.
When I see women and men together, I make equally speedy assessments of the economics of their relationships. I encountered one of my neighbors on the way to a live sporting event not long ago, accompanied by his girlfriend and a male friend of his, and immediately came to the conclusion that she was paying her dues for the prospect of a future home and family life. Although I have known women who were rabid sports fans, she didn’t “look the type.”
Hearing my other, unseen neighbor and his partner on Sunday afternoon, I wondered if her enthusiasm and apparent enjoyment were genuine, or if she, too, were making an investment in a possible future relationship. Should that future become actual, he might very well say—given the opportunity for another sexual afternoon like today’s—“Let’s wait till after the game,” and she might silently hope that he would lose interest by the time it was over.
Why do people get involved in such transactions? I was somehow sharing a table with another guy in a bar in San Francisco many years ago, and I commented on how a guy on the dance floor was coming on to a not particularly attractive woman like she was Marilyn Monroe. My companion replied, in a serious tone of true understanding, “Well, you know how it is when a man’s nature is working on him.” Indeed I do. I have, when my nature was working on me, romanced my share of women who, by general consensus, would not be considered attractive. Women, of course, “have their nature,” too.
All of us are much more complex than any snap evaluation can accurately summarize. That’s why when I say, “That’s the kind of guy I am,” it’s always with tongue in cheek. People have known me for years and never suspected that I’d been to college, or that I was a captain in the US Air Force: a Deputy Missile Combat Crew Commander, prepared, supposedly, to launch nuclear missiles against the “other side.” The person who seems shy and insecure in one situation can be brimming with confidence in another. Someone who doesn’t seem the least like a sports fan can have a room filled with posters and collectibles. I don’t take my own stereotypes of other people seriously, and am prepared to have them undone by more exposure.
Nonetheless, life is short, and people are many. There isn’t enough time to get to know everyone intimately, and so we develop these shortcuts. We pigeonhole people as a way of setting up an appropriate framework for interaction, should the occasion arise.
It would be nice if we could treat everyone like a tabula rasa, but certain built-in algorithms are not easily overridden. I keep trying.
Nature At Work
[...] of my own observations were recently written in “Healthful Ejaculation,” and since I don’t consider myself “normal” in any conventional sense, I think I’ll [...]