Warning Labels

Warning Label.

I probably owe blogger.com a bit of gratitude for their warning label on a blog post I wrote about seven years ago. I included in the post a warning to the reader that some of the content might be offensive to some people.

I don’t think it was the lyrics to a copyrighted song that started the post, since I gave full attribution to the writer, singer, and publisher of the song.

I purposefully wrote the essay to show the specific horrors that come when a spouse develops dementia. It is harder to deal with than a parent, or sibling, since your whole life is bound up as a loving couple. 

After years of building a relationship built on trust and mutual happiness, suddenly the bonds are being slowly torn asunder, piece by piece, and there is nothing that can be done about it. Ordinary reminiscences about common activities and experiences become impossible to recover and enjoy.

I shed many bitter tears as I gave away a whole closet full of square dance apparel acquired through forty five years of dancing across the nation. 

The whole story was about the night she asked, “Who are you, and why are you in my bed?”

I suspect the warning label was due to the flashbacks I had relating to the exhilarating times of our marriage before the dementia took it all away.

My thoughts at the time were about my children and grandchildren, and the sometimes difficult process of unlearning the anti-sexual teachings of various religious indoctrinations.

I was raised believing that sex was either too dirty or filthy to be discussed, or on the other hand, too sacred to be discussed in polite company. Sex education is vehemently opposed by nearly every religious organization around the world, with few exceptions.

When I decided I didn’t agree with St. Paul’s preferences toward celibacy in 1 Corinthians 7 was the day I went to the preacher and had him remove my name from the membership rolls. 

It didn’t take a lot of research through Kinsey, Masters and Johnson, and others to realize that there was more to this sex thing than I had learned in school or out in the barnyard. It wasn’t just about men having fun and making women pregnant. She was supposed to have fun, too, and the pregnancy was optional if proper precautions were taken.

Nobody told me that in church or school. They should have.

No wonder so many religious leaders get caught in extramarital affairs, and so many supposedly celibate priests are messing with little boys. 

One of my biggest educational resources was Playboy magazine, which surprises many people. Hugh Hefner was one of the first to emphasize the playful aspect of sex, and the fun that is possible if you use your creative imagination.

 I cringe when I see women’s liberation leaders disparage Hugh Hefner, because I believe if he hadn’t started the sexual revolution, women would still be expected to stay barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen. Some religious zealots today are trying to push women back there.

Brownmiller, Steinem, Jong, Valenti, et al, owe Hugh a debt of gratitude. He opened the door for women, in my opinion. Before Playboy, 30 to 40 percent of American women didn’t know such a thing as orgasm existed. 

After about thirty years of marriage, when I decided to let my Playboy subscription lapse to save money, my wife renewed it for me. She was always pretty plain with her hints.

So no, getting down on your knees and praying before you climb into bed with your wife will not guarantee a happy marriage. Stop being so serious and have fun!

If my children and grandchildren take away anything from our marriage, It is that fun is what it’s all about. If it stops being fun, use your imagination and creativity and find the fun again! 

Thanks for the warning, Blogger! Doubled my readership, I think!