[I began this post back in September and held off because I’d written three or more things based on posts by Lynn Gazis-Sax. Her writing always makes me think. I’ve recently been reading Easton & Liszt’s The Ethical Slut. It too is making me think. It’s a very good book in terms of understanding one’s romantic and sexual relationships with others whether or not one is monogamous. I’ll probably have more to say about the book but I think I’ll clear the decks a bit by finally posting this one. —fl]

Lynn Gazis-Sax of Noli Irritare Leones has thrown me for another loop, this time with her meditations on casual sex.

As I see it, there are at least four categories of reasons not to have casual sex, and much confusion follows when people confound one set of reasons with another (either by emphasizing a different set of reasons from the ones that are chiefly guiding them, or by making a wrong guess about what reasons are guiding others). Either the definition of “casualâ€? or the definition of “sexâ€? may vary, depending on what set of reasons you are using.

First, there’s the matter of what kind of sex you subjectively actually want to have. Sex, after all, is a form of communication. It’s other things besides, and some of them can be grander. But at the very least, sex with another person is a form of communication, not just a function of physical release (for that you could just check out some of flea’s products). And, if you don’t happen to like the communication that’s going on, you probably don’t like the sex. So, in this case, a distaste for “casual sexâ€? means a distaste for sex that leaves you feeling used, unappreciated, unlistened to, or whatever. Or for a relationship which is unpleasant to be in because the other person doesn’t seem to be taking you seriously as more than an object for his or her release. Casual sex, in this case, is sex you just plain don’t want. And the definition of “casualâ€? may vary depending on just what it is that you do want.
It’s worth reading the rest of Lynn’s post here. Leave her a comment if you find it interesting.

The idea that sex is a form of communication is both a) novel (at least to me) and b) exactly correct, no matter what other grand, mundane, or transgressive things it might be.

It also (as many of Lynn’s posts do) throws me into a bit of inner turmoil. Decades ago, when I was a young, homeless musical minstrel and wandering wastrel I took immense pleasure in hanging out on park benches on the Boston common just talking to total strangers — many of them elderly, some as young and aimless as I, others in the prime of their productive years as parents, politicians, clerks, or entrepreneurs — and those conversations changed both my life and, I’m pretty confident, changed the lives of some of the people I conversed with.

Initially I didn’t seek out those conversations, which often took place when I would take breaks from busking with my decrepit found-in-a-dumpster guitar and my meager found-in-a-Mel-Bay-book musical skills. But as time went on, and the advancing winter made my fingers too stiff to play, I found myself returning to the Commons for that, well, casual comm-union with strangers in the public square. (While I did develop some friendships there I rarely saw, or had a chance to speak with, the same people twice)

So how does this relate to casual sex? As I mentioned a while ago there are at least a hundred relative strangers I’ve met in the blogosphere I’d love to have casual social intercourse with. And were I single, knowing what I know of them and they of me, I’d be equally delighted to also have casual sexual intercourse with many of them (well, certainly with any single individual among them.) Note the “also” in that last sentence, it’s important — as Lynn says, if all one wanted was physical release one could simply masturbate.

If I ever make it to Lynn’s part of the country I’d love to meet her in person for casual conversation (though not for sex, given her well-articulated preferences, not to mention our monogamous relationships.) I would certainly enjoy that kind of face-to-face contact with someone I admire and enjoy sharing comments with. But where does that desire, for that kind of communication — a gratuitous and mutually gratifying (I would hope) meeting to discuss theology and it’s role in modern relationship formation, for instance — fit into a model that includes the communication model of casual sex? Or, put more concretely, how would that compare, for instance, to two other individuals who, with very similar motivation, chose to meet instead to talk and have sex without intending to form a longer lasting proximal relationship?

I’m the first to admit I have always had a more slippery boundary between intellectual, emotional, and physical relationships, and that I have chosen to be monogamous out of respect for my partner and for social convention more than any personal conviction, but the idea of sex as communication resonates with me and my intuition says putting the boundary between physical and non-physical communication not only be arbitrary but misplaced.

This is another one of those libertine prude / prudish libertine dichotomies for me. The idea of non-communicative/obligatory sex that’s never-the-less permissible because you’re married seems as grim to me as the idea of communicative/personal/optional/casual sex outside of marriage seems benign. (This is not to say that’s my experience with married sex, by the way! I don’t think I’m disclosing too much about our relationship when I say my partner and I have communicative, personal, optional sex.)

[p.s. While we’re on the topic of communication, check out Steff’s Case for More Communications. I really appreciated her post as well. —fl]