Call Me “Inappropriate”

But call me.

Oh, what this pandemic is doing to my overactive brain. How is yours holding up, my friends?

Is the unrelenting boredom and sameness of every single day scrambling your gray matter as it is mine? Do you sometimes imagine banging your head against the nearest wall in an attempt to just feeling something again?

My thoughts these days are wild and erratic. Reminiscent of when I had a bad bout with the flu as a kid and experienced fever dreams that were both frightening and strangely enticing. Burning through my brain like a lover’s touch.

If you watch the news, if you keep up with current events, there is no getting around the unpleasant reality that we are stuck like flies in amber.

We’re in the shit and from all reports, the stink is only going to intensify before abating. You can thank those individuals who refuse to follow the guidelines related to face shields and social distancing for the States-wide spikes in cases and deaths. Those selfish imbeciles who believe they can still flock to bars and beaches and hook-up in a sexually specific way, with other imbeciles.

Have they never heard of “self-love?” Batteries beat the hell out of intubation, do they not?

Some may disagree with my dim view of our situation. Some may insist that they’re enjoying this enforced time at home with kith and kin. They’re journaling and scrapbooking and cooking and eating everything in sight, with the expanding waistlines to prove it. Myself included. Although I’m not a big eater, I’ve managed to gain about six pounds. Just from being home all the friggin’ time.

Six pounds may not sound like much, but it’s a small leap from six to sixteen.

But apart from the physical toll of life during Covid-19, the mental and emotional hit is profound. As a result, I’ve had thoughts that one can only refer to as “inappropriate.”

Most of these bizarre imaginings revolve around sexual activity. Very hot sexual activity with virtual strangers — and not-so-strangers — if you get my drift. And that’s all I will say about that.

Now, is this fallout from sheltering-in-place, or merely slutty thinking? Am I indeed a slut? Hmmm. A sexagenarian slut. (I smell TV pilot.)

Nah. I don’t think I’m a slut. I haven’t acted on any of these thoughts. How could I? But I have to wonder where they’re coming from. I mean, why am I not thinking about my manager, who's been MIA for months, or landfills or the novel that I have barely cut my teeth on?

Why is it always sex, and more sex?

Now you might discern that I don’t have enough sex and that’s your prerogative, but unlike other writers, I do believe that some things are sacred and should be kept to oneself. Unless oneself is tanked.

In all seriousness though, my thinking about sex in an oddly-obsessive yet extremely pleasant sort of way has definitely increased over the last few months.

So I did some Googling to find out if there’s a correlation between thoughts like mine and also, to discern what the general impact on sexuality is during a pandemic. Following is a sampling of what learned:

• According to an online study of 459 individuals in China, published in The Journal of Sexual Medicine, one in four participants reported experiencing a reduction in sexual desire related to the coronavirus pandemic. But 18% of men and 8% of women said they had experienced an increase in sexual desire. Let’s hear it for the diehards!
• WebMD reports that people suffering from OCD, as I have my whole life, may experience a rise in obsessive thinking during this stressful time, with sexual thoughts being high on the list. The good news for me is that my mental ramblings aren’t disturbing. Not unless getting off like a Roman candle can be deemed “disturbing.”
• Justin Lehmiller, a fellow at the Kinsey Institute at Indiana University says that “A potential silver lining to this pandemic is that it does seem to be increasing sexual communication overall.” So, I’m communicating with myself?
• In The Washington Post, Shiela Addison, a licensed marriage and family therapist makes the point that if you’re not up for sexy-time, “Don’t place blame on yourself or your partner. Sex is a natural drive like hunger or sleep, but it’s so mediated by our conscious thinking, I think it’s very normal for folks to just not have any resources for that right now.” Damn. I must really be twisted.
• Finally, Alex Abad-Santos in Vox.Com says it’s “perfectly normal” to be hornier than usual right now, as it is to not feel any desire at all.

Okay, then. I guess I know what side of the glory hole I’m on. How about you? Has your desire for sex increased or shriveled up? (Think Trump’s orange peepee after a day of nude sunbathing at Mar-a-Lago.)

Do you find yourself fantasizing about sex more than usual? If so, who with? Your partner? (Scratch that.) The guy or gal who cut your hair after a six-month hiatus? Your pissy, but oddly-sexy, next-door neighbor? The UPS driver who delivers all your Amazon Prime stuff? Someone here?

Now that last one was inappropriate. But you can’t say I didn’t warn you.

Sherry McGuinn is a slightly-twisted, longtime Chicago-area writer and award-winning screenwriter. Her work has appeared in The Chicago Tribune, Chicago Sun-Times, and numerous other publications. Sherry’s manager is currently pitching her newest screenplay, a drama with dark, comedic overtones and inspired by a true story.

As always, I appreciate your reading. If you liked this, please check out a few of my other stories, conveniently posted for you right here!