Tuesday, March 22, 2011

Sexual revolution. . . how many does this make now?


The dictionary describes it as the overthrow of a government or social order. Interestingly enough, the same dictionary also describes it as the process of revolving around in a circle, as in orbit.

To that end, I had thought the sexual revolution was long since kapoot. It seems I was wrong.

Between sexually transmitted diseases and the Jerry Falwell types, with one being just as unpleasant to think about as the other, I had mistakenly assumed that the sexual revolution had come to an end and we Americans had refocused our energies elsewhere.

Several incidents I’ve witnessed as of late have me convinced otherwise.

At the end of last summer, I was out on the boat anchored in my favorite cove when I noticed a large cabin-cruiser type pull into the cove. It wasn’t long before the boat, and its young, very female guest, drifted over my way. I could see the young girl in the water hanging on to an inflatable raft and she was a bombshell in a skimpy bikini. My handkerchief could have made three of her swimsuits. Blonde, perhaps mid-twenties, and even in the water, her mascara and makeup were still perfect. I could also tell she was well on her way to a respectable level of intoxication.

As she drifted over to me, she called out, “Hey Mister! Do you have a beer?”

For the record, we never have any booze on our boat. Period. I’m not a prohibitionist by any means and you can drink a distillery every day if you like, just don’t get behind the wheel of anything that moves.

“Nope,” I answered, not having to yell because she had drifted to within ten or fifteen feet of me. “Don’t keep any on board. Sorry.”

She thought about that for a moment, then climbed up on her floating raft. “If you give me a beer, I’ll show you my (rhymes with zits).”

My first thought was that I couldn’t believe what she just said. My second thought was I wonder what she'd show me for a six-pack? I looked at the guy driving the big boat that she was with and he just shrugged. “Give her a beer if you got one,” he called out. “She’ll put on a show for you.”

This isn’t the first time I’ve seen such things on the lake. Last summer, I had pulled up anchor and was leaving the cove and passed a floating mansion of a boat that had one guy at the helm and four young women in various stages of undress frolicking about on the forward deck. As I cruised by, I saw that two of the young women were absolutely naked and engaged in the sort of activity that ends up on videos you used to rent at adult bookstores. As I passed them, everyone on the boat waved, including the two girls doing the indescribable deed. Friendly folks.

I smiled and waved back. What else could I do—and they didn’t ask me for a beer, did they?

When I told this story the next day at the office, one of my employees enlightened me to the facts. Seems that he had bartended at a “gentleman’s club” for almost a year while he was attending college. “The money and tips were pretty good,” he explained. “And you couldn’t beat the scenery.”

“What happens,” he went on to tell me, “is that these rich guys will come into the club, get drunk and start tipping heavily. A lot of them own big boats they keep out on the lake and after a few drinks, they’ll invite some of the girls back to their boat with them after the club closes.”

I grew up in the middle of the sexual revolution when sex was as common as mosquito bites. When I became of age, a lot of my buddies started going to (rhymes with pity) bars. I went a couple of times but that was it. I have about as much use for those places as I do nosebleeds. Besides, it’s like feeding a starving dog a rubber bone.

Unless, apparently, you own a cabin-cruiser yacht.

Revolutions are wars and wars are best fought by people younger than myself. If what I’ve been seeing at the lake as of late is any indication, another sexual revolution could very well be headed our way. With any luck, however, this one will just be a minor skirmish.

And being the prude that I am, I believe I’ll just sit this one out.

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