What the Pelican Knows

Recently, I was working at the seaside resort where a year ago I lost my mind, drew a couple hundred dollars from an ATM and handed it over to Mermaid Minnie for 15 minutes of flaccid slapstick comedy. (See blog entry, Actually Ramona Was Not My First,6/6/2009.) I decided to go back to the marina where I met Minnie, this time with my head screwed on straight.

Looking at the white fiberglass floating bedrooms, I wondered if I could find the one that Minnie escorted me on. I could not. They all looked the same. It was something like the one above. But, again, it could have been this one. Southern Nights??

Everything was quiet on this cold winter afternoon... as quiet as my passions now seemed to be, satiated by Pearl's caring attention. But, quieted as well by having let myself explore new territory at a time when most men my age are retreating into safer places. But, honestly, "love for sale" is not for me. I can't afford it, and I can't stand the excitement. Still, I value my brief experience with it, and the interesting women who chance such a risky line of work, and I would defend anyone's right to responsibly engage in the business as either a client or entrepreneur.

This doesn't mean that I've come to a peaceful place with my passions. I'm still confused by them. However, there is comfort now knowing that our society is even more confused than me. Hypocrisy and deception seem to be the preferred way to handle passions. The Tiger Woods and Eliot Spitzer stories tell of marriages gone awry: husbands condemned as ogres, wives admired as innocent victims, and the "other women" disparaged as not even worthy of respectful attention. Either no one is at fault, or everyone is at fault. To use the term "cheating" in these stories is ludicrous. It's far more complicated than that. One thing I feel certain ... we know how to fuck, but we don't know how to talk about it. We don't even know how to talk during it.

We are all way over our heads in this passion business.... it's larger than our ability to cope. We are like idle sunbathers basking on a warm shore, then getting hit by the tsunami of roaring emotional tides that few of us have the skills to handle. Possibly, the polyamorists are closer to the reality of the situation. They have one thing over the rest of us.... honesty. "Do as you wish, just don't lie about it. If you have to lie, don't do it." The solution is as varied as there are humans trying to find their way. So, just because one person's way is not yours, do not judge.

As I turned to walk away from the marina, a shadow passed over me and I saw an enormous pelican flying overhead. It looked wise and grandfatherly. The pelican seemed to peer at each boat, each one a ship of fools.

Human society has yet to formulate a sexual ethic that works. There will never be a workable sexual ethic as long as men see women as either angels or whores, good girls or bad girls; and as long as women see men as either cheaters or faithful. The self-righteous are the masters of the double standard.

Pelicans are monogamous for one mating season, yet seem to start all over with new prospects the following year. Who knows what the pelican knows? That we all want to belong to someone and have a safe place called home? But, that home should not feel like a trap?

Whatever, in the end and in a perfect world, love should not be for sale; love should be free.