Booty Call

In the past few days, I've had a number of conversations with people -- conversations that they initiated, I might add -- about sex.

Those who are having it, want more of it or want it with someone else. Those who aren't having it, are hoping to have it.

I blame spring. I saw my first (non-copulating) robin the other day, so the change of seasons is definitely upon us.

Spring demands that we shed our layers. So, while we're at it, you might as well go right down to the epidermis. And while we're here, how about a little rutting for good measure? We are animals, after all.

God, even my cat seems to be a little more affectionate than normal.

I wish I could have casual consensual sex. It would make things so much easier. But the truth is that I'm not very good at it.

David Sedaris once remarked that what keeps him together with his boyfriend, Hugh, is a mutual fear of non-monogamy.

I get this.

It seems that in tenth grade when Sister Rosemary Carroll hit me on the head with a stack of test papers when I laughed at Tammy Osbourne for failing her test on the Ten Commandments, she knocked my morality gene loose.

I can only really enjoy sex in a mutually exclusive monogamous relationship. So sue me.

While I've tested the boundaries of casual sex over the years, the truth is that I have neither the energy or inclination for multiple partners. One's enough, thank you very much.

And I shudder at the thought of the booty call with someone I don't know very well. It's cringe-worth, like the "After the Final Rose" show on The Bachelor.

Anyway, I'm not judging other people's behaviour. Only observing...like a documentary on the National Geographic Channel.

In honour of this topic, I present you with this. A squirrel threesome.