Just
as the Claire Danes soap opera reduces politics and patriotism to a mindless
round of betrayals, the newer series feeds viewers’ voyeurism with nude scenes
of heartless copulation, made guilt-free by the gravity of Masters and Johnson
solemn scientific goals.
It
all recalls an old line from the outdated magazine’s heyday, “I only read Playboy for the articles.”
Still,
all this is harmless enough in an era where anything goes visually and
intellectually, but the Masters and Johnson saga has a particular poignance for
me.
In
their later days, after (spoiler alert)
they were famous and married to each other, it finally must have seeped in that
their work was a touch chilly. To remedy this oversight about love, they
recruited a writer, my best friend Robert Levin, to write a book with them about
marriage titled “The Pleasure Bond: A New Look at Sexuality and Commitment.”
The
conclusion: “Total commitment, in which all sense of obligation is linked to
mutual feelings of loving concern, sustains a couple sexually over the years.
In the beginning, it frees them to explore the hidden dimensions of their
sexual natures, playing with sex as a pastime and passion, seeking the erotic
pleasures that give life much of its meaning.
“Then,
when carrying the inescapable burdens that come with a family and maturity,
they can turn to each other for the physical comforting and emotional
sustenance they need to withstand economic and social pressures that often
threaten to drain all life of joy.
“Finally,
in their later years, it is in the enduring satisfaction of their sexual and
emotional bond that committed husbands and wives find reason enough to be glad
that they still have another day together.”
Nicely
said, but life overtakes words in painful ways. A few years later, Masters and
Johnson divorced. Before that, my friend who wrote the book for them died
literally from a broken heart after suffering disappointment in his own
marriage.
Today,
all that “research” seems pointless and naïve, but in the entertainment maw, it
can be ground up and served to sophisticated minds that simultaneously mock and
savor it.
In my
case, it’s all too close to home for that.
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