I will tell you the secret of the most amazing, mind-blowing, ecstatic, overwhelming experience of total sexual pleasure you can possibly imagine. I am not kidding and not fooling you. I know the secret and will tell you at the end of this essay, if you have not guessed it beforehand.
You would know the secret as well, except that you have been lied-to your whole life.
Yes, people you know and people you don’t know, people who have no worldly reason whatever to lie to you, have all been deceiving you. Some do it because they don’t know true from false, and they are just repeating what they’ve heard; but most know better, or should know better, but they have something they like better than they like hearing the truth, knowing the truth, telling the truth, and so their brains are full of feculence and their tongues are full of lies.
What they prefer to truth is flattery and self-deception and self-righteousness and all that heap of steaming manure called Political Correctness. What they prefer to their happiness is your unhappiness. The harpies are willing to eat filth and lick pus just so long as you don’t get to eat fresh bread and quaff bright wine.
But let us not pause to denounce sad falsehoods when the glorious truth beckons with her fiery lamp. How can one experience the perfect sexual experience?
In order to understand the perfect sexual experience, we first must say what sex is: it is copulation, the process by which two halves of a sexual whole find complement and completion, and reproduce. The sex act is the act of sexual union in sexual reproduction. The sexes, however, are spiritual rather than physical: men are masculine in psychology and mind and soul, masculine in speech and deportment and nuance in all they do just as women are feminine. The sexual union is spiritual, ordered toward the end of reproduction.
Next we must say what perfection is. Perfection is when an act achieves its end, its goal, its final cause, in such a way that no further act is needed or desired.
If the union were physical only, masturbating while ogling a photograph of your girlfriend, real or anime, would be as perfect as having the real girl with a real personality in your arms. If the union were physical only, hiring a temporary whore to service your biological appetites created by the backpressure in your reproductive plumbing would be no different than hiring a cook to sate your appetite for food, and visiting a cathouse be no more shameful than visiting a restaurant.
If the union were physical only, nothing but the physical sensation of the orgasm would matter, and rubbing your penis in an anus, mouth, armpit, elbow, or an elephant’s ear, not to mention the crevasses of mothers and sisters and underage children, convenient animals, and fresh corpses or whatever floats your boat would be called sex just the same as sex is sex. The word sex would refer only to the hunger for the sensation, and not to the sex act.
If the union were physical only, we would have no vocabulary to express the differences between sex and perversion, between masturbation and reproduction. It would all be sex, and the sexes of the partners, or the number, or their blood relation, would make no difference whatever. The absurdity of sex between members of the same sex, that is, the absurdity of nonsexual sex, would suddenly become invisible, and no words would exist to express it.
If the union were physical only, there would be no romance. Men would not court women. Women would not learn to flirt and be coy and never learn how to inspire pursuit. A woman could go her whole life and never have a sonnet written to her glory. She would never dance, not dancing like Fred and Ginger, but instead would listen to drumming, thudding music and sort of jump up and down while standing near the man who was not really courting her, not really sacrificing anything for her, not really in love with her.
If the union were physical only, you will be lonely forever. Forever.
But this picture of a life without romance is too absurd for words, so we need dwell on it no longer. Obviously it is false. Obviously love and romance is spiritual, hence sex is spiritual. Obviously sex is a spiritual union between opposite sexual spirits ordered toward sexual reproduction – the point is so blindingly clear that, paradoxically, I can think of no argument to prove the point to a skeptic.
It is like arguing whether the universe exists. The universe in which the discussion is taking place is more obvious than anything said within the discussion.
Since sex is ordered toward reproduction, anything that hinders it is an imperfection. Prudence, if nothing else, would warn potential mother and potential fathers not to do the act which makes you a mother or a father until you have a household and loving union ready to rear children.
If you are artificially sterile, or using contraception, you are holding back, you are not passionate about the sex, you are trying to use the sex rather than surrender to the sex.
You are trying to have sex without really having sex, and this alters your soul and body in countless subtle ways, and the woman knows it, and senses the mistrust, the misgivings, indeed, the fear — the nagging thought that the contraception might fail hangs across the passion and prevents total surrender to passion. And if she is using the pill, her hormones, the ones directly related to fertility, sex, sexual passion, and love have been interfered with. But even if she is not using the pill, she is using you and you are using her, trying to get the union of sex without the physical sex act and the physical results.
The only way to make the contraception infallible is to agree to hinder the sex act by killing the child once he is conceived but before he is born, an act so horrific and unthinkable — even the Spartans did not make the baby’s own mother toss the helpless baby into the pit of the Apothetae — that no more need be said of it. If you doubt me, I’d like you to imagine holding your beloved in your arms, and whispering tenderly in her ear as the erotic passion mounts, “I love you and adore you and after I make mad, passionate love to you, we will kill Junior. We will kill him together! The doctor will pierce his delicate skull with scissors, and vacuum up his wee little brains!” — I am guessing that will kill the mood.
Since sex is ordered toward reproduction, you have to love the woman first, and want her to be the mother of your children, and want it more than you want life itself. Since sex is spiritual, you have to protect your children and your wife and make them safe. Your wife cannot be made safe if you are allowed to abandon her. Hence, since sex is ordered toward reproduction, you must swear, swear by Holy God and your hope of heaven, never to leave her, but to love and cherish her, in sickness and health, for better or worse, until nothing less than horrid death itself you do part.
For her part, she must vow to love and honor and obey.
And if you do not understand about that obey part, you do not understand women. She wants a leader, an alpha male, a chief, a Christ, and you must be willing to die for her as Christ was willing to die for you, or she will not feel secure in your love. If she does not swear to obey, you are not a couple, not a dyad, not a unit, but are still two sovereigns dealing with each other at arm’s length, not intimate, and she cannot trust you fully, cannot love you fully, not with a divine and self-sacrificing love. And she knows you don’t love her fully, not with a love that is more than madness, more than sense, more than the universe.
Have you ever heard of a love like this? Love larger than the universe?
You have never heard of romance, except as a silly myth that does not exist in real life? Never heard about true love, except as a punchline? Never heard of love that makes the angels blush red as the planet Mars in October? Love that makes hell tremble? Never heard a rumor about it?
No? This is because you’ve been lied-to your whole life.
Sex is spiritual because sex is divine.
No doubt the unwary reader is recoiling in doubt and dismay. Surely you have been told your whole life that there is no such thing as spirit, that spirits are not real, that reason and science have no ability to come to any conclusions on this topic, ergo each man is free to reach whatever conclusions he wishes to reach.
Surely you also have been told what the conclusions are that you must reach regardless of your wishes: surely you have been told your whole life that minds are sexless software and bodies are hardware, this hardware just so happens to have plumbing called sex organs which are tools made of flesh and blood to be used for whatever purposes you, in your sovereign majesty of defining your own personal reality, can use in any way as you see fit. The penis is no different from a pencil or a trip-hammer, hypodermic or harpoon, merely an instrument or device with no innate purpose or proper use.
You have been told that the male nervous system, down to the last cell and the XY chromosomes in each cell are identical in all ways to the female nervous system, and female and male thinking is identical in all respects. Any attempt to think otherwise is forbidden by the Thought Police.
Any attempt to advise how these tools should or should not be used is a sinister conspiracy against your sovereign independence.
Your mind – no, correction, there is no mind – your software running your body is itself sexless; for this reason any attempt by society to establish conventions, roles, expectations based on sex — no, correction, there is no sex, a word that refers to reality, there is only gender, a word that refers to arbitrary convention — any attempt to establish social expectation based on your gender is at best shortsighted folly and at worst a sinister and stifling oppression.
The upshot of it all is that girls, to be free, should act like cads, and boys, to be polite to girls, should act like craven eunuchs, catamites, and sodomites. Perversion is true freedom.
You have been told your whole life that the greatest sexual experience is to copulate with as many willing and comely partners, male and female, as possible as often as possible, preferably when drunk and without discovering the name or sex of the partner, and devil take the consequences. The best partner is a girl who has slept with more men than the village harlot, but who does not charge a fee. You remain together as long as it mutually suits your convenience, and, like suspicious sovereign nations forming shifting alliances between wars, you are always in the posture of gladiators, with your eyes and weapons forever pointed at each other. If you dump the girl before she dumps you, you get a point. If she dumps you before you dump her, you lose a point. It’s a game.
You have been told your whole life it is a meaningless game, because life is meaningless, and love is something you are supposed to have for the Party, and for the ideals of self-actualization, self-sovereignty, self-selfishness, but not for your partner. Love is nice when it happens, but it is something life owes you, not something you work for. It is something that happens to you, or something you purchase by an act of will, not something you sacrifice your whole life to achieve.
You have been told your whole life a pack of total lies that have not even the slightest and remotest relation to reality. It is all total, complete, absolute, unadulterated, pure-quill, high-octane, 14-carat and utter bullshit.
Are you ready now for your secret? The most ecstatic and longest lasting orgasms, one after another after another, the deepest joy, the highest triumph of love, physical and mental and spiritual and total — the perfect sex happens when you are with your one true love who is your wife and helpmeet, and you are married and bound with chains no man can put asunder, she has no doubts about you, and you and she have seriously set your minds to having sex during her most fertile periods to try to make a baby.
That is it. That is the secret. Sex is ordered toward marriage and children. Romance starting with the corniest wine and roses, dances and poetry and full moons and flowers, leads through the chapel and white gown of marriage to the wedding bower, and when you set about to fill the nursery. When you use it as sex is meant to be used, as, logically, the only way it can be used, it opens up all its treasure hordes of pleasure for you.
I have heard this now from dozens of married couples. You bachelors are screwed, and you couples who want no kids. Your love-lives are second-rate, cheap copies, and pathetic compared to what we have.
Romance is truth and truth is romance.
The system of mutual mistrust, mutual masturbation, and mutual loathing which the modern sexually liberated man has instead of romance, the system of using sex as a commodity is a falsehood, and a gross and ugly falsehood at that. You have been cheated by this falsehood of the perfect sexual experience.
Read last week’s column: Downfall of a Generation: Mistrust of Intelligence and Reason.
John C. Wright is a retired attorney and newspaperman who was only once hunted by the police. He is a graduate of St. John College (home of Mortimer Adler’s “Great Books Program“). In 2004 he foreswore his lifelong atheism and joined the Roman Catholic Church. He has published over 10 SF novels, including one nominated for a Nebula award, and was described by Publisher’s Weekly as “this fledgling century’s most important new SF talent.” He currently lives in fairytale-like happiness with his wife, the authoress L. Jagi Lamplighter, and their four children.