Two Three Two: Checkboxes

I realize that by writing here at all, I run the risk of being thought obsessed with sex. I find sex and courtship fascinating, but what I'm obsessed with seems to be something else. I'm much less obsessed with sex than with the accessories and accoutrements of sex.

I'm obsessed less with sex itself than with how sex fits into stories. I see sex and courtship as based on stories, on narrative arcs. I look less at the act than at how and where it all happens. Sex in one's own bed in one's own house may be wonderful, passionate, intimate, athletic. But it's not as good as sex in a parked Aston-Martin or on a sailboat moored in Milford Sound or atop a rooftop bar in Manhattan. Location matters, just as all the sets and props around you matter. Sex matters less for the physical sensation or emotional exchange than for the stories constructed around what you've done. I've believed that all my life. Part of roué-hood is telling stories, after all. All the things I've ever done in my various careers have been about telling stories. And every story requires a setting and props. Every story requires accessories.

I've written here about Morning After Kits, and I have been obsessing over those for a couple of weeks. I want to know what lovely girls take with them to assignations. I want to go over their Morning After Kit inventories and see what exactly they're preparing for. I want to know how often they carry their Kit items--- whether they're carried only on some designated nights or whether the girl is always ready for some random coup de foudre moment.

Let's be clear here. There is envy involved. Not so much envy of the sex, or of their ability to have random encounters, but envy of the Kit itself, envy of having a list of items. A lovely girl will send me her list of Morning After Kit items, and I'll go through it to see which of those things (or their male equivalents) I either have or can acquire. A travel toothbrush and a travel-size tube of toothpaste? Check. A travel-size anti-perspirant container? Check. A body wipe or two? Check.  A sign of my own obsessions is that the first time a girl sent me a Morning After Kit list, I instantly dashed to my laptop to find and purchase a travel toothbrush. In the end, I bought a dozen or so. I knew that I was unlikely ever to need them--- if nothing else, I prefer to bring Young Companions back here to my own rooms ---but I wanted to have them because they made me feel as if I could have the same kinds of accessories and accoutrements as the young ladies of my acquaintance. That new box of body wipes on my bathroom shelf is there for the same reason: Look, it says, I can have a  Kit, too! I can be ready in hotel rooms with a lovely stranger! I'm going to take as a given that this is something that could be described as pathetic.

This happens to me. I end up obsessing over lists and checklists. I want to check whatever boxes so that my own story arcs will be as good as those of my Young Companions.  I check off accessories--- cleansers, moisturizers, hair masques, wet wipes ---and I also check off locations (parked cars, rooftop bars, sailboats, offices, bullet trains). Again, this may in fact be sad, but presentation is everything. And I do long for story arcs as good as those of my Young Companions.