A warm day, but the subway station was still chilly, hoarding the night’s cold. In the early fall, as the days cool, the stations remain thickly hot, closer to the magma. Today, going through the turnstile at Borough Hall, I was intercepted by an MTA Op with a clipboard who asked me my “final destination.” What did that mean? My final destination of the day? Wouldn’t that be right where I was, returning back to dear ol' Brooklyn? Or merely where I was destined on that particular trip, which of course was no sure thing? I mean, death is the final destination, for all of us, whether we have an appointment in Samarra or elsewhere.
Dan Savage, my favorite sex columnist, has an usually long response in this week’s Village Voice (and wherever else he’s found, the slut) about lesbian bed-death syndrome (or LBDS as I call it) among my peeps, the hets. Basically, men are always horny, women aren’t always horny, pace Sex & the City, so in marriage and other long-term situations the sex tends to dry up. Hell, the Voice recently introduced another sex column called Married Not Dead (that bit with the laundry machine in the last installment left me hot and bothered) to flog this notion even further. Here’s Savage’s money-shot:
“my advice to women with low libidos: You can have strict monogamy or you can have a low libido, ladies, but you can't have both. If monogamy is a priority, you're gonna have to put out, i.e., regular vaginal intercourse and the occasional tide-him-over handjob and/or blowjob, cheerfully given. If all you wanna do is sit there and eat chocolate, you're gonna have to turn a blind eye to lap dances and mistresses and happy endings and the return of trade, i.e., gay guys giving NSA head to straight guys.” The rest of it, including his suggestions to us dolts: http://www.villagevoice.com/people/0711,savage,76046,24.html
Discuss amongst yourself, folks, but don’t talk it to death. Fuck instead. (Here in Bachelorklyn, the royal We expect you coupled people to do your duty so We have something to aspire to.)