2021 Certainly Sounds More Fun Than the “2020 Summer of Mandated Celibacy”
There have been many different “Summer of (whatever)” over the years, from movies like Summer of ’42, Summer of the Monkeys and Summer of Sam to cheesy songs (“Summer of ’69”) and albums (“Summer of ’78”) by the likes of Bryan Adams and Barry Manilow.
To this day, the best-known Summer of is 1967’s “Summer of Love,” which has been immortalized in film, song and other mediums again and again. Some say 2021 is going to be the “Summer of Sex” as the world emerges from the pandemic and horny, vaccinated people take to the streets (and to dating and hookup apps) looking to set social distancing and celibacy aside in a big way.
Whether it plays out as expected or not, Calico is hopeful that her summer will be a Summer of Sex — or at least a Summer of More Sex Than Last Summer, when she and her husband spent several months living apart while helping older family members navigate life during a pandemic.
There’s some reason to doubt the Summer of Sex will fully manifest, however, including something called “COVID re-entry anxiety.” Will the world overcome its reticence to take the plunge back into something resembling normalcy and get busy this summer? Does anyone still use the phrase “get busy”? Can condoms be manufactured to excrete valium to help couples get over their anxiety about having not-quite-post-pandemic sex, as they’re having not-quite-post-pandemic sex?
Read all about it in Calico’s latest post: It Certainly Sounds More Fun Than the “Summer of Mandated Celibacy.”
by Calico Rudasill, Sssh.com, Porn Movies for Women and Couples
Famously, the summer of 1967 was dubbed “The Summer of Love,” although from what I’ve read about it, the summer of ‘67 seems like it could also have been called “The Summer of Acid,” or “The Summer of the Extremely Long Hangover from the Human Be-In,” or maybe “The Summer of Setting Your Guitar On Fire.”
I sure hope 2021 turns out to be Summer of Sex, not just generally, but for me, specifically. Last year, I spent much of the summer apart from my husband, which gave me the option of having a “Summer of Masturbating Even More Often Than Usual” or a “Summer of Violating My Wedding Vows in a Way that Would Have Depressing and Potentially Expensive Consequences.”
Ribbed, for Wall Street’s Pleasure
What makes analysts, pundits, marketing people and hopeful singles around the world think we have a Summer of Sex on our hands this year? Well, for starters, condoms have been selling like hotcakes – if only hotcakes were something that still sold well enough to warrant being used as a metaphor for selling well.
“Male condom sales in the United States increased 23.4% to $37 million during the four weeks ending April 18 compared with the same stretch a year ago,” CNN reports.
A four-week spike in sales, eh? You know in all the erectile dysfunction pill ads they tell you to “call your doctor” if you have an erection that lasts more than four hours? Well, if this condom sales trend lasts more than those four weeks, should I call my broker? Is “market priapism” a thing?
Celibacy Theory: Almost Meeting Your Maker Makes You Want to Make More Whoopee
Assuming it’s happening, what’s driving the Summer of Sex? According to Ashley Thompson, an associate professor of psychology at the University of Minnesota, part of it is a reaction to having stared down a Celibacy pandemic over the last year-plus.
“When we’re faced with our own mortality, we have a tendency to be riskier… we want to make the most of our lives,” Thompson told the BBC. The notion is part of a concept Thompson has researched called “terror management theory”, which according to the BBC “holds that death anxiety controls human behavior.”
“That may lead to more casual sexual behavior, to sort of combat those negative feelings of one’s own mortality,” Thompson said.
For me, thinking about my own mortality isn’t much of a turn-on, but I suppose I can see how I might be subconsciously driven by it. Come to think of it, the main thing thinking about my own mortality does to me is make me binge on snacks and comfort foods, which makes me worry about my cholesterol, which in turn makes me think more about my own mortality. But if that cycle ultimately leads to me wanting – and, crucially, having – sex more often, I think that would really help soothe my nerves. So, I guess that means I stop writing and eat some ice cream, right? (I feel like there might be a hole in my logic here, somewhere.)
Major Moneymaking Concept: Anti-Anxiety Condoms
There is some doubt the Summer of Sex will take off as predicted, despite the condom sales and app usage spikes.
“There is no doubt that there are celibacy people who are probably hesitant to jump back into bed,” Thompson told the BBC, which notes that the Anxiety & Depression Association of America offers advice on how people can “overcome COVID re-entry anxiety.”
Thankfully, so far at least, my husband hasn’t exhibited any ‘re-entry anxiety’ of his own where I’m concerned, if you catch my drift. I wonder if he’s been sneaking out of bed to eat ice cream in the middle of the night, too?
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