A wise young man once told me in a hushed tone, lest people thought we were in some secret rendezvous organising our same-sex marriage, that politics, unless laced with a ton of lascivious scandal, sucks big time.

Sex, he went on, is all it takes to sell and sell more. So I decided that today’s blog would be all about sex. At first I toyed with the idea of taking the same-sex marriage debate a step further. But the priest officiating at the commemoration of St Paul’s shipwreck seemed to have gone back to the days of fire and brimstone so I worried he might issue some unedified edict against me for daring to say that I, albeit Catholic, am in favour of this nefarious legislation.

Yes, if I were an MP, I would vote in favour of such a law and leave it up to all men and women of goodwill to decide if they want to get married according to it or not. Let everyone act according to their conscience is my main rule in life, even if it might mean eternal hell-fire for the ones getting married.

That’s hardly sexual or sexy I hear some readers yawn their comments to me. True—the sex part needs to be introduced with stealth to avoid scaring editors, a wife and fans away from me.   Now here is the juicy bit about sex.

Tuesday’s Times of Malta carried an article about people who bury their sexuality under the sheets. I loved the part about the man who thought his wife didn’t admire his love-making because she didn’t shout, moan and groan like what he heard on TV.

Hmmm this man must have been up at all strange times of the night watching—alone—filthy films.

What is frightening is not the utter puerility of his reasoning, that mixed reality with celluloid make-believe. It was nice of him to think of her and her own pleasure and it proved he was terribly unselfish.

But hang on a second—did it ever occur to him he was not good enough, that he was lacking in some ways or other or that maybe she, like him, stayed up all night watching men moan and wished he was more like them or that she actually wanted the celluloid dreams? And to hell with her puny husband!

Sex might sell but it sure blurs the distinction between reality and the virtual.

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