Two broken people get together, spend $72 on liquor, $3 on food, talk about meaningless things, have meaningless sex, and act shocked when their emotions are shredded like a cheap tissue. And then, she totals up her expenses for this evening of self-abuse passing as sexual liberation:
$37, bottle of vodka that was used in flask
$1, apple I gave him so he wouldn’t be hungry
$50, plan B
$20, lost cemetery tour ticket
$3, egg and cheese sandwich
$2, artisanal ginger ale
$12.49, box of oxyclean for blood stains
$25, dinner with best friend to analyze why he wasn’t calling
$12, book he recommended that I was now curious about
$2, box of tissues to cry about his disappearance
$10, pregnancy test
$50, STD test
Total cost: $276.49, my dignity, my optimism
Blood stains? STD test? Abortifacients? Oh ho-hum and ha-ha just another night in the life of the Girls-watching heirs of Sex and the City.
And WTF is “artisanal ginger ale”?
Even young, I didn’t act like this. More than drugs, more than war, more than economic turmoil, and certainly more than religion, the most destructive force of the last 100 years was the sexual revolution. Severing sex from love and marriage and procreation, commodifying it, and changing it primarily (rather than incidentally) to a recreational activity has destroyed the family, damaged our psyches, and killed our spirit. This sad little bleat is just one snapshot out of billions of moments and incidents and lives that make up a ruined and fallen world.
We can’t keep doing it. Human dignity demands more, and only L’amor che move il sole e l’altre stelle can ever provide the answer.