Watch any nature show and you'll see how life boils down to consumption and procreation, food and sex. As humans, we marvel at the simplicity of these animals' lives, yet when it comes to human interactions what do we want most? Food and sex. And it seems these twin desires are linked.
I'm not talking about George Costanza, his unsuspecting girlfriend and a pastrami on rye hidden in the nightstand. Well, not just about that... The food-sex connection is more innocuous and much more pervasive than that.
Where do we go on dates? Out to dinner. What do we hope for at the end of a dinner date? Sex. Even our language describing food and sex overlap. "Mmmm...." Is that a murmur of pleasure uttered after sampling a tasty dish or after sampling a tasty dish? Food sustains us, and so does sex.
Here's the key difference: it's socially acceptable to freely share one of these appetites, but not the other.
Going back to Psych 101, I vaguely remember an example that asked us to imagine a world where the social acceptability of eating and having sex were reversed. Imagine that eating was done in strict privacy, and only in the company of one chosen partner, while sex was available anywhere and everywhere, and with or in front of anyone. Sex would be a freely available public commodity and food would be a secret, and somewhat guilty, pleasure.
It's easy to scoff at the idea and say that sex and food are completely different and could never be switched in such a way. But why? Why is sex a pleasure that is shared with only one partner and food something that is enjoyed publicly?
Now, before I go further, I'll clarify that I'm all for monogamy. The many positives range from the practical to the passionate. But I'm also a fan of free thought and as my mind wanders over social conventions such as these it gets tripped up by the uneven surfaces, cracks and crevices that are bound to exist in such murky, emotionally-charged ideas.
What fascinates me is that food is a well-known stand-in for sex. Lonely? In a sex-drought? Grab a pint of double-chocolate chunk ice cream or a slab of Better Than Sex Cake (yep, that's a real recipe. Google it!). And what's the most common activity you do with your non-sex-partner friends? Eating.
People are constantly pushing food on the people they like. If only I had a swagbuck for every time I've heard, "You have to try this!" while someone waved a forkful of something decadent my way! Food is big in our society. Turn down an offered delicacy and risk a serious offense.
This giving of food is so emotional for some people that I have to wonder what's behind the overt gesture. Just think back to our last Presidential election and the news coverage surrounding what hometown food the candidates ate at each stop on the campaign trail. Woe to the candidate that didn't eat a proffered foodstuff. How many votes were bought with greasy bites of indigestion? And doesn't that seem just a little bit... well, odd?
Maybe offering food is a subconscious way of saying, "I like you. I can't have sex with you, but this banana nut muffin is the next best thing." That would explain why there's such an offense when the offer is rejected. Or why friends eat to such excess when they get together. The dessert menu comes out and the pressure is on to share in high-calorie gratification. The most visceral gratification friends can share without venturing into the realm of sex?
But is this polite force-feeding and codependent gorging any healthier than having sex with everyone who strikes your fancy? As our obesity epidemic should be showing us, eating too much food carries just as many health risks as sleeping around. Sure, you won't get an STD by eating a triple bacon cheeseburger topped with onion rings (hold the tomato and lettuce, please), but a heart attack will leave you just as dead.
So should people start offering sex instead of tins of homemade cookies during the Holidays? Um, no. But maybe it would be okay for society to ease off a bit on the food-based activities.
Our genetics may be urging us to eat and reproduce, but our brains should be able to adapt to a few simple changes. Like group outings to museums, movies, or other activities that don't include rich restaurant food. Maybe retrain our subconscious brains to say, "I like you. I can't have sex with you, but lets play a board game and enjoy a witty exchange of ideas."
That would be neat.
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