4.8
August 30, 2011

In Defense of “Making Love.”

There’s no rush. There’s no commute (unless you’re going to his/her place). Take your time. Work it up. Have a conversation while you’re at it. Have two or three different conversations. Shift. Pause. Move around. Go at it. Go slow. Shut up, enjoy the silence. Fall back. Keep going. Get going. Sing together. Good god. And, Jesus H. Christ! Good god! Oh. Yes.

A girl dash friend of mine and her girl dash friend, don’t remember who, were making fun of “making love” this summer. “It’s so sleazy or skeazy, you don’t remember what we said, Waylon,” they said.

“Nooooo…” I disagreed, feeling as if I was defending veganism to a bunch of suburbanites, mid-turkey-sandwich. So I pulled out the mom card, risking any Oedipedal downsides. “My mom always called it ‘making love,'” I pointed out.

The two girls looked at each other, as if checking to see if the other was feeling the same 4.3 earthquake tremor. They nodded at each other, once each. “Well, in that case, it’s different. It’s okay.”

“It’s when men say it.”

Well, I hear you. Hearing a the Situation say “I want to make love to you” would make me queasy. Soooo…it took me six months to come up with a comeback, but here it is. Men can’t say “make love” without being tacky or sleazy?

“I think that making love is the best form of exercise.”

Cary Grant said it.

40, Love. Point and match.
Further Relephant Instruction:

“The Most Erotic Kiss in Movie History”—censors would only allow three seconds, and it was all done in one take, with a camera and crew and track…masters of intimacy and details at “work.”

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