So I hear the movie version of Sex and the City was something of a financial flop.

For those of you living under a rock, Sex and the City is a sitcom that features a lot of women. Having sex. In the city. The popularity of this concept proved so novel that they made it into a movie.

Since I live under a rock with no television reception, I’ve never seen an episode of Sex and the City and don’t really plan to. But as with so many other bewildering preoccupations popular among urbanites, I have to wonder what the appeal is.

It’s not like I’m unfamiliar with sex (ahem). Beyond the obvious point that I have two kids, we live on a farm where sex is, well, in the open.

Contrary to the moral prudery often assigned to rural folks, sex is a lot more obvious in the great outdoors. After all, a variety of critters engage in the dirty deed in broad daylight, heedless of whatever polite company may be present. And sex is discussed all the time. ALL the time. Even in cocktail chatter.

“So – did your bull breed the neighbor’s cow this year?”

“I sure wish that rooster would control his libido. Then hens barely have any feathers left on their backs.”

“What mares will you breed your stud horse to this fall?”

And children are entirely aware of the facts of life as they pertain to livestock from a very early age. I recall a conversation with my then three-year-old who was watching our rooster engage in his favorite hobby.

“Mommy, what is Mr. Rooster doing to that hen?”

“He’s mating, sweetie.”

“Oh.” Pause. “What’s that?”

“It’s how baby chicks get born.”

And at no time since have our children been unfamiliar with the connection between sex and procreation.

But when you look at an episode of Sex and the City – which, remember, I’m only extrapolating from hearsay – then sex and procreation are not only separated but actively divorced. And we wonder why our culture is in such trouble?

Women who hook up with complete strangers at the train station are not looking to hatch chicks or nurse a new lamb. No, they’re just looking for a momentary thrill. Personally I think it’s more thrilling to try and chase down a calf who has a wire tangled around his back leg than exchange bodily fluids with a total stranger whose name I don’t know, but then you already knew I was weird.

The funny thing about these “sex and the city”-type women is when they make the extraordinary decision to remain celibate, often for two weeks at a stretch, we applaud them for their self restraint and marvel at their virtue.

“Not having sex is like giving up junk food,” says a woman named Katie Jean who decided to embark on a ‘celibacy cleanse.’ “Sex in New York for me had become like the 99-cent package of Ding Dongs on the corner.” Awww, who says romance is dead?

There’s even a book coming out on the subject called “Chastened: The Unexpected Story of My Year without Sex” (available at Amazon.com) in which the author tries a most amazing experiment: yes, going without sex for an entire (gasp) year. I didn’t think that was possible, but boy did she prove me wrong.

(And then I started wondering: why do all these books and TV shows and movies happen in New York City? Does the Big Apple have a monopoly on casual sex or something? Just askin’.)

So aside from the titillation factor of in-your-face sex, what accounts for the popularity of Sex and the City, especially among women? How can the emotional angst of a bunch of twits with questionable morals hold anyone’s interest for more than a week or two?

The answers are predictably inane. “I believe it is popular because many people…relate to at least one of the ladies and of course we all want the clothes and shoes,” notes one female Einstein. “Because they talk about sex,” points out another. And then there’s the unparalleled logic of, “Because it’s stupid and people like stupid sh*t.” Can’t argue with that.

More intellectually, the Australian website Direct Action.org.au (honest-to-goodness slogan: “For socialism in the 21st century”) noted, “Sex and the City has been analyzed by feminists both as an example of progress in women’s rights and life options, and as an example of the effects of corporate culture, marketing and the more individualistic strands of feminism in presenting women’s empowerment as mainly tied to achieving coupledom, beauty, and personal upward mobility, rather than collective organisation for progressive change.”

Aw gee, and I thought it was just a bunch of slutty women cheapening their femininity by hooking up with a succession of strangers. Boy was I wrong.

Entertainment Weekly said, “The clothes from SATC raise your cosmos! A toast to the wonderful wardrobe from Sex and the City, which taught us that no flower is too big, no skirt too short, and no shoe too expensive.”

Ah, the shoes. Should have thought of that sooner.

Unlike sex in the city, sex in the country is nice because it produces something useful. Livestock don’t “do it” unless there is a biologically compelling reason. Anywhere from three weeks to nine months later, we can anticipate a Joyous Event in the form of chicks, lambs, foals, calves, piglets, or other helpful additions to a farm. And there is nothing prettier than the sight of baby animals prancing around a pasture or peeping around a barnyard.

It is for this reason – this blatant and undeniable association between sex and procreation – that rural children are aware of the facts of life in a healthy and responsible way. (Naturally it’s up to the parents to reinforce this association.) But when lambs and kittens and foals and chicks are in-your-face evidence that it’s best to keep a lid on the hormones unless you want a calf of your own, a lot of country kids grow up knowing the right thing to do.

For those Sex and the City types who haven’t made the connection yet, that means no sex until after marriage.

Now where’s my rock? I need to crawl back under it.

Tags: Gals, Sex and the City

Wednesday, June 16th, 2010 - 7:35 PM
Category: Entertainment.

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