Coping With ‘90s’ Loose Connections

Truth is I’m getting a little down about the ‘90s.

First a guy calls me up to inquire about my stand on abstinence. That’s all he says, abstinence, but I know what he means. Sex. He wants to know am I for it or against it.

I wonder if he’s thinking of drafting me for public office. But I don’t think I’m his type.

Then he says that seeing as how I write for the newspaper I should be “responsible” about promoting abstinence. This gets me really depressed. Because I agree.

To get in a better mood, I pick up the newspaper. An indicted Caspar Weinberger says it’s all a frame-up. Ross Perot and George Bush accuse each other of paranoia. The chairman of Sears says we should trust him. And “Pinocchio” is being re-released.

I figure it’s a sign. Maybe Disney really is God.

Then I see something by Erica Jong in the New York Times. Commenting on the latest fads in sexual technique, Ms. Jong writes that most of the people she knows are so sexually starved that “they’ll settle for an imperfect fit just to remember that friction makes the heart beat faster.”

Later she reports from the scariest of sexual frontiers. “Guided imagery,” it’s called. A study in the Archives of Sexual Behavior concludes that women are able, and apparently willing, to reach orgasm without any physical contact at all.

No, there is no 900 number to call.

And as anybody who’s been reading “Diana” can tell you, things have gotten so bad that not even a princess can get, uh, take a guess . . . .

(Of course, that Charles person has always been a rather odd sort. This is a man who only lets his lover into his walled vegetable garden. Come to think of it, could there be some “guided imagery” going on? You know, the rich really are different than you or I.)

Anyway, admit it. Thinking about all this can get one rather down in the mouth, and that’s just for a start. Go ahead. Think about it. Nobody’s looking. This is only a newspaper column, for God’s sake.

Needless to say, this is a sad commentary on our times. Remember when hippies used to say, “Make love, not war” and that was actually an option? These days we send soldiers to the Gulf without so much as a cold shower en route.

So now I see that the Los Angeles Times, in recognition of our changing societal mores, has set up its own 900 number. I am not making this up. “Dateline: Where the Best Connect!” this feature is called. Could I make this up?

Sure, you can go ahead and actually call this number in response to any or all of these personal ads, but that will put you out $1.29 per minute. The cheaper and may I stress, safer , alternative is to just read. This is the responsible thing to do.

I am here as your guide.

First off, you’ll want to read all the categories: women seeking men, men seeking women, women seeking women, men seeking men and my personal favorite: mutual interests. This will give you a feel for what’s out there, without actually feeling anything yourself, in a tactile sense.

There are some general themes. Women, especially, seem to be big on walking on the beach, dancing and eating out. They all want someone with a sense of humor, nobody who smokes.

Many of them watch a lot of TV: “Bubbly, blond Lucy, 25, seeks 25-30s Italian Desi.”

Men, on the other hand, are more likely to place their demands first. “Absolutely gorgeous petite brunette with Sherilyn Fenn eyes, 24-34 yrs sought by DWM.” (Divorced? Hm. Wonder why that might be. My guess: He was misunderstood.)

Some appear to be offering trips, to the Midwest in July and in another ad, to the South Pacific three years from now. Several really “cute” ones compare their would-be dates to a car. Then there are those that appear more honest than most. One DWM started off by naming his venereal disease.

Isn’t responsibility fun?

Now you may ask who the hell am I to be offering myself as a navigator through this land of (desperately) searching souls. I’m a MWF w/2 kids, concerned for the human race. Consider this column a public service.

And if you don’t like it, call up Dan Quayle. Who knows? For you, he might be available. You never know unless you ask.