“Every relationship is sexually based.”

I don’t even remember who said that to me or even exactly when it was said, but that sentence haunts me to this day, for some reason.

I grew up in a family that, by modern standards, was sexually repressed. “Sex” was basically a four-letter word, something to be discussed in discreet company, not openly flaunted, which is how my parents saw where society was heading at breakneck speed.

My Mom and Dad were, of course, correct—society has become much more open about and obsessed with sex. And if advertisers had their way, sex would be the pinnacle of human existence. After all, we use sex to sell cars, deodorant, toilet bowl cleaners and even ourselves.

I like to dress comfortably rather than sexually. I see more and more people with fewer buttons buttoned and, with shirts and skirts more open. It always fascinates me to see those people who use sex to sell themselves getting ahead in life faster than those of us who prefer modesty. Even in the business world, I see shirts open lower and skirts cut higher. And those are the people who apparently “dress for success,” although I hear horror stories about just how one needs to excel in order to succeed in the business world. The “casting couch” is no longer restricted to the Hollywood producer’s office, I hear.

The new phrase isn’t “dress for success”–it’s “dress for sex and hope it leads to success.”

The more preoccupied we are with sex, the less satisfied we are with ourselves.

There, I said it. Why did I say that? Because the consummation of the sexual act happens in, what, 10 to 20 minutes (at max)? What do we do the rest of the time—wait for the next sexual act to happen?

Sex is wonderful stuff, don’t get me wrong. But it is like eating cake and nothing but cake all day, every day. Eventually, even the most hardcore sexually oriented among us long for something else.

I believe that’s where friendship comes in.

In my life, those moments I remember with most warmth happened when I was with friends—either talking with them, doing something with them, going someplace with them. (And I considered my Mom and Dad my closest friends as well as my parents, so I don’t count them out.)

When my friends and I get together, we start talking about things we share an interest in, and the time flies by. And yet it also feels like no time at all has passed somehow. That’s the way time passes in significant periods of our lives—they fly by and yet feel like no time at all has expired.

On the other hand, sometimes when people feel the burning yearning to talk at me, it feels like eternity. I don’t mind in that I’m a good listener, but wow—some folks think a conversation is actually a lecture.

Here’s how my Mom described a conversation: “It’s like tennis,” she used to say. “You hit the ball over, the other person hits it back. Again, you hit the back over, the other person hits it back. If you smash the ball every single time so the other person can’t even touch the ball, they’ll get tired of standing around and eventually go find someone else to talk with.”

And that’s where I think we’ve lost the art of conversation. We’re all in things for what we get out of it. We each have to be the funniest or the smartest or the handsomest or the biggest and best around. No one wants to be part of a group these days—we all need to stand out, to be above everyone else, to excel, to shine more than anyone else around us.

And that’s really sad, I think.

Getting back to my original quote, I don’t believe that every relationship is sexually based. I think sometimes we are drawn to people we find attractive, but does that mean we want to have sex with them? Do I have to want to have sex with my friends in order to consider them my friends? No, I don’t feel that way, at least.

These days, I’m seeking more warmth in my life. And that means more friends and more conversation. That doesn’t mean everyone has to know everything—far from it. But it means spending quality time with people who share the same interests, maybe adding a little more light and life to each other’s lives.

I can’t think of a better way to end this discussion about friendship than John Denver‘s song, “Friends With You:”

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