display | more...
"Better than sex" is a terribly overused phrase, applied to everything from golf and fishing to countless desserts. The only believable comparisons I can think of involve opiate use, but I'd consider that cheating. In my experience, the phrase is used most by people who I can't imagine having terribly fulfulling sex lives. Of course, I could be wrong, but I also intend to never find out one way or the other.

Golf and fishing, for example, are pastimes enjoyed mostly by middle-aged white males, for whom the aesthetic and physical aspects of intercourse have largely degraded. It is possible that golf and fishing may very well be better than sex for (and with) these men, but that speaks more about their own current dysfunction than the amazing nature of various non-sexual activities. If golf, fishing, hang-gliding, mountain climbing, or, in the case of Gordon Gekko, profiting from real estate are indeed better than sex, then we would probably hear that claim from people like Magic Johnson, Wilt Chamberlain, and Wade Boggs, who have the stamina and resources to do any of those things.

If all kinds of foods and activities were truly better than sex, we'd be doing those things instead of having sex, and our genes would not spread as far as those of the depraved, sex-addicted horn-dogs among us. People who are ambivalent or only mildly interested in intercourse will ultimately fall out of the gene pool, plain and simple.

The dessert analogies are the most laughable. While chocolate supposedly contains mild amounts of some euphoria-inducing substance, the average BTS recipe doesn't even recommend very good chocolate. Am I supposed to believe that a recipe that merely recommends "chocolate chips" is going to send the taster over the edge with pleasure? If I substitute Valrhona chocolate instead of plain-old, mass-produced Hershey's, will that elevate my delight from clumsy handjob to full-blown tantric swami sex? One better than sex dessert recipe contains no chocolate at all, canned fruit, and non-dairy whipped topping, which may be better than sex, but only if you're Jean Teasdale.

When comparing anything to sex, I refer to a time in my first year of sexual activity, when I snuck, like a ninja, into the bedroom of my lust-crazed, loonball 18-year-old girlfriend, who looked just like Bridget Fonda, and engaged in freaky, unprotected, contortionist sex in a desperate attempt to find a position that wouldn't wake her mother, who was asleep in the bedroom next door. So far, no sport or dessert has come close to that.

Log in or register to write something here or to contact authors.