The Pu­ri­tans Are Rest­less

Si­mon Wil­liamson lives with his hus­band in het­eronor­ma­tively-as­sim­ila­tive fash­ion in Athens, af­ter a year of sur­viv­ing ru­ral Ge­or­gia.

GA Voice - - Outspoken - By Si­mon Wil­liamson

I am all for any­thing that opens up more av­enues for hu­man­ity to en­joy more sex, although I am still al­ways sur­prised when I see the moral­is­tic mother-grundies crawl out from be­neath their rock­ing chairs to smear their right­eous­ness across the com­ment sec­tions of the in­ter­net, en­raged that they can’t con­trol all the cum be­ing sloshed around out­side their pre­cious pres­ence.

While dis­cus­sion about PrEP (pre-ex­po­sure pro­phy­laxis), a pre­ven­ta­tive drug to com­bat HIV, may have dredged the heads of the moral­ity po­lice out of their holes, the Ash­ley Madi­son hack has brought forth such a tsunami of goody-two-shoes, there is sim­ply no force that can con­tain the de­sire to tell ev­ery­one else how they should be liv­ing their lives. And this is not the usual bi­ble-in­fused evan­gel­i­cal crew com­ing to des­ic­cate other peo­ple’s mo­rals. A lot of this, my friends, is in-house; our own Huck­abees are com­ing to crap all over our sex­ual free­dom, our lib­erty to do with our body parts what we like.

It’s not as though we haven’t tra­versed sim­i­lar roads be­fore. This en­tire na­tion has spent decades polic­ing into whom we might put our gen­i­tals. As re­cently as 2003, ten states pro­hib­ited sex up the bum, even within the bi­b­li­cally-ven­er­ated man-women re­la­tion­ship, un­til Lawrence (and Garner—the black guy we tra­di­tion­ally leave out) v. Texas al­lowed ev­ery­one (in­clud­ing gay peo­ple) the rev­o­lu­tion­ary crumb of lib­erty of be­ing able to bang some­one of their own re­cip­ro­cal choos­ing in the pri­vacy of their own home. Now, some­thing we have seem­ingly lost the abil­ity to en­dorse, even as LGBT+ ac­cep­tance and rights, like Chan­ning Ta­tum work­ing out in a gay gym, sees growth all around.

In fact, as I type this, the Depart­ment of Home­land Se­cu­rity, which once used to spend its time pro­tect­ing us all from ter­ror­ists, has used its ev­i­dently wide man­date to pro­tect us from rent boys, by dash­ing an es­cort agency in New York City, fur­ther pre­vent­ing peo­ple from con­sen­su­ally un­der­tak­ing a re­la­tion­ship where sex is com­mod­i­fied. The gov­ern­ment stepped in to save us from the dan­ger of peo­ple who are not us, do­ing some­thing in their own time, in their own res­i­dences, with their own money and their own bod­ies.

But, seem­ingly, we are do­ing this to our­selves now. The sex­ual revo­lu­tion is get­ting speed-bumped by some of our own folks, who, now that they have mar­riage, feel the en­tire sys­tem has been righted; that that as­sim­i­la­tion is the same as vic­tory (which, in­ci­den­tally, would make them to the LGBT+ rights move­ment what Bobby Jin­dal is to im­mi­grants).

My hus­band and I choose to shag each other ex­clu­sively. We have sin­gle friends who de­serve tro­phies for their sheer num­ber of tro­phy boys. We have friends who be­gan dat­ing as a “throuple.” We have polyamorous les­bians in our lives, and my cur­rent pres­i­dent, Ja­cob Zuma of South Africa, has four wives. We all choose how we want our re­la­tion­ships, or non­re­la­tion­ships, to work.

It doesn’t need to be like a pre­scrip­tion: you are al­lowed to do what­ever the hell you want, with­out Dr. T.J. Eck­le­burg gaz­ing over you, half-judg­men­tal, half-hard.

“While dis­cus­sion about PrEP, a pre­ven­ta­tive drug to com­bat HIV, may have dredged the heads of the moral­ity po­lice out of their holes, the Ash­ley Madi­son hack has brought forth such a tsunami of goody-two-shoes, there is sim­ply no force that can con­tain the de­sire to tell ev­ery­one else how they should be liv­ing their lives.”

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