The Cost of Climax
I mean, how do we navigate this? Fans and air conditioners a whirring to keep sweaty bodies cool. Dirty sheets resulting in detergent and water usage. Energy spent and temporary fixation on pleasure while our planet is slowly dying. Should we care if our partners are getting hard as reports come in of disappearing glaciers and raging forest fires? Do the fertile among us desire to procreate or are the rumours true that a generation is leaning toward avoiding having children because really, what future has the planet promised them lately?
But then you have earnest folks. You know, the ones who have discovered love and off the chart sex for the first time in the history of humankind and it’s going to save us all. Take young musicians for example, singing their dear little hearts out about love, sex, heartbreak, dating and all things relationship worthy. They haven’t given up, surely. They’re still seeing the point in getting it on, despite the fact that drought is literally causing koala bears to fall out of tree. Perhaps the happy medium can be found around environmentally-friendly solo climaxing to provocative music videos? Maybe the edict should be: Individual pleasure only?
Seriously though, it’s not very hard to hook into “climate anxiety”, an endearing new term created somewhere by someone who wanted to catapult us into mass group therapy. There are daily headlines about the newest or ever-persistent climate crises going on. Land in trouble. Water in trouble. Animals in trouble. People in trouble. Space in trouble.
We’re rapidly approaching the tipping point.
No, wait, we still have time to reverse course.
Gotcha. Nope, there’s no going back.
But wait, if we cut emissions enough before global temperatures rise…
And the rollercoaster continues to careen along an uncharted path.
It doesn’t really scream “whip it out”, does it.