I was asked today by a seventeen-year-old gay delivery boy whether or not I considered myself to be a “bandit of love.” This caused me to slip into a self-reflective mood wherein I asked myself if I was in fact guilty of sexual crimes, of whatever stripe.
This is not about acts of violence, such as rape, which pertain to power rather than sex, or about pathologies resulting in psychic wounding or even homicide. No, this is about getting the word “sex” into a blog post title without writing something depressing or downright creepy in the process.
What’s the difference between a sex crime and a damned shame? A damned shame is when you’re convicted by a jury of love.
Sex crimes can be divided into the following categories: crimes against the self and the self’s innocent-bystander private parts; crimes against another person or persons that affect his, her, or their sexual hormone levels and/or their erogenous bits; crimes against nature; and crimes against God and all that is holy.
Crimes against the self: Well, obviously you want to prevent chafing, or doing anything that will require a visit to the emergency room. Avoid vacuum cleaners, action figures, cacti and other spiny fruits and vegetables, and impure thoughts.
Crimes against others: The fundamental, immutable rule about sex is that, in the end, you won’t get it right. You will f**k it up. This is because, inexplicably, your brain gets involved. Original sin? Unzipping your jeans for the first time.
Crimes against nature: Nature is all about wanting you to go out and get it done. The only crime against nature is staying home, reading a book, and going to bed early.
Crimes against God and all that is holy: This is about doing it in a church, synagogue, temple, mosque, sacred grove, hearse, coffin, huge crematory urn, monkery, monastery, or Jesus camp.