Legally boned.

I've only just realized this, and it disturbs me: Sometime in early August of 2008, I fornicated for what may have been the last time in my life.

Oh, did I mention that I was going to write about sex? Ha, whoops! Well, now you know!

But yeah, that happened. My last fornication passed unseen, unknown, like a silent ship in the night... or, I mean, not silent -- it was probably, you know, lots of grunting and zoo noises, but... well. That doesn't matter. What matters is that married persons, by definition, don't fornicate.

Nope, that's specifically for the unmarried. Once you've put a ring on it, you're just straight-up legal to throw it in there, and there's nothing anyone could do to stop you -- or would! You're allowed, even encouraged, to have sex! This is the apparent boon of marriage: that Jesus, conservative old people, and the Congress of the United States of America are all one-hundred percent on board with whatever it is you do behind closed doors and between the sheets. (Provided you don't try to put it anywhere untoward, of course, if you know what I'm saying. I can't speak for Jesus, but last I heard, they particularly disliked that sort of thing in Texas.)

Having watched every single motherloving last one the occasional episode of "Engaged and Underage", I know that the implicit permission to have sex is seen by some as a major incentive to get married. Those lust-hungry young couples who haven't quite closed the door on puberty yet, fleeing from their wedding reception with glee at finally being able to Get Busy with the Permission of God. Sometimes I watch these shows and cackle to myself, because they have NO IDEA what they're in for.

But here? Well, no. It's not like that. The fact that Jesus and his dad and my grandma are all totes cool with the bang-bang -- this does not make me want to leap into the sack.

There's the general lack of cachet of the whole thing, first off. Because c'mon -- what would you rather do? "Fornicate", or have "marital intercourse"? One of these things sounds awesome, like the sort of activity that might take place in a bar bathroom or an elevator, or under the buffet table at your friend's wedding with a cocktail napkin stuffed in your mouth to muffle the screams (what? No I didn't!), and the other sounds like an SAT word, one of the ones where you were too bored to remember the definition but you're pretty sure it has to do with small engine repair.

Dull.

But worse, I think, is that marital sex is totally de-naughtified. When even the Bible is all, "Hey, you, with the ring! Take your pants off!", the exciting sense that you're getting away with something is just... pffft. I'm starting to understand those previously-vanilla couples who show up on latenight HBO specials about sex parties or Vegas brothels, who turn to the camera and giggle, "We never used to do anything like this! But now, look! A dildo!"

Not that there are any problems over here, or anything -- if you were hoping I was going to be all, "So what I'm saying is, our sex life sucks", then I am sorry to disappoint you. (Also, what the hell. Why would you hope that?)

But I am distressed to realize that my last fornication for the foreseeable future passed without so much as a fare-thee-well, or a party hat, or anything.

...Or, I mean, there may have been a party hat. I drink a lot.