I’m soon to publish a book and given the fact it’s based on a true story – and that true story is my life, I’m currently debating whether or not to include a little bit of Fifty Shades of Grey between the black ink on my white pages.
I know this because last year, when I let a stranger from Bumble datecrash my solo adventure around the incredibly beautiful island of Mljet, Holidate hit the number one blog spot.
Why? Because, for us humans, sex is so much more than just a reproductive strategy to keep our species going.
It’s a passionate act of lust and romance, it’s full of intrigue and mystery – and if we’re not doing it, we’re either thinking about it, talking about it or wishing we were doing it.
In her book, Why Him? Why Her?, Helen Fisher explores sex in two parts – and so will I. So before I move on to the controversies and complexities we’ve created when it comes to intimacy, let me start with the basics.
Different species replicate differently.
A few, like a variety of whiptail lizards, have done away with sex entirely. These little reptiles roam the semiarid chaparral of the American Southwest and during the breeding season, each develops eight to ten unfertilised eggs that will hatch as perfect replicas of themselves.
Strawberries, however, do it slightly differently; they give themselves the luxury of reproducing asexually or sexually – I guess depending on their mood.
When strawberries feel secure, that their patch is unexploited, and the environment is unchanging, they clone. Only when space runs out, forcing strawberries to disperse into uncharted lands, do they put forth flowers and mate.
Earthworms have another variation of sexuality. These creatures are both male and female at the same time; they can impregnate themselves.
It’s a little bit magic really.
Mother Nature gets it on in all sorts of weird and wonderful ways, but regardless of who does what and how, our why is always the same…
We have sex to replicate ourselves.
Sex is survival and while Darwin may have enjoyed putting a scientific spin on things, we seem to prefer provocation over pragmatism.
Today, sex seems to have totally surpassed our need to spread our seed and pass down our lineage. It’s much more than just creating our next of kin and ensuring our species survive.
Sex is what gets us out of bed in the morning and if we’re lucky, what gets us into bed at night.
Sex is everywhere.
It’s that short skirt and tanned legs on the tube to work or those muscly arms holding on to the overhead rail as our bus turns the sharp bend.
It’s the office gossip. It’s that boss who exudes intelligence and charisma, the one who still looks sexy even when he wears funny coloured socks, or that girl in that tight dress who always orders a skinny latte at 8.47am.
Sex hangs off bar stools in stilettos and it swaggers through clubs in navy blue suits with open collars. Sex struts over pavements and seduces us with Malteser eyes through a crowded room. Sex smells like sandalwood and sweat.
It lures us in, every waking minute of every waking day. We can’t live without it and we wouldn’t be here without it.
Sex is everything.