Elan Morgan is a writer and web designer who works from Elan.Works, a designer and editor at GenderAvenger, and a speaker who has spoken across North America. They believe in and work to grow both personal and professional quality, genuine community, and meaningful content online.

TMI, Baby. Tee. Em. Eye. By Which I Mean to Warn Family Members That They Might Want to Stop Reading Right Now, Unless They Want to Know About the Health of My Sexual Appetite.

If the scientists are to be believed, which I'm not so sure that they are, because I am suspicious of most perceived authority figures, I think I am experiencing the beginning of my sexual peak, (which I'm pretty sure is being fomented by the fact that I am not drunk so much of the time anymore).

Is this sexual peak business really a thing? I mean, I've been hearing about this whole men-peak-at-17/women-peak-at-35 thing for years, but I always thought it was a bit of a myth until recently when I started gathering completely anecdotal evidence using no scientific method whatsoever.

Over the last two or three weeks, I've been noticing that other human beings are totally sexy. Not all of them, mind you, because the majority of human beings are actually kind of gross. It's not that I am terribly judgmental, but if you imagine touching the pink parts of most of the members of humanity, you end up feeling like you need to douse yourself in a vat of hand sanitizer. Still, though, I am noticing that more than the usual number of human beings are doing it for me in a making-me-feel-funny-in-my-pants kind of way. It's confusing.

I'll be walking through a mall or strolling down the street to the local 7-11, and I'll look up and think Damn but those pants are TIGHT!, and, again, not in a judgy way, like they need fashion advice, but in a making-me-feel-funny-in-my-pants kind of way, even though the person I'm looking at is in skinny jeans and a douchey pair of 1980s-style oversized glasses and is probably fifteen years my junior, and I look more like their mom now than at any other point in my life.

It's not just that hipsters do it for me, either, thank god. It's people aged 20 and up. It's fat people, thin people, tall people, short people, dark people, and light people. Basically, if you're a person and breathing and look like you have most of your teeth, you might show up on my radar. It's a good thing that I'm monogamously married and like it, because otherwise I might totally leave a sweaty wake of sluttiness behind me and start stalking Mickey Rourke.

When this first started happening, I thought The cancer must be back, because everything is possibly the result of pressure from a tumor, don't you know – headaches, having to pee, a pain in my ankle, and now, obviously, sexual excitement – but I'm starting to think that it's really just a good old healthy sex drive doing its best to get me impregnated before I decline into my golden years.

My body's kind of an idiot in that it has never really figured out that it perambulates free of the encumbrance of a uterus. Fool.

This ramped up sex drive hasn't actually culminated into my putting in much overtime when it comes to copulation just yet, but it wouldn't be difficult to persuade me in that direction. I think my new level of interest is still festering in its teenage boy phase where I'm walking around hiding my raging boner behind a textbook and trying to figure out why I feel so funny all the time.

If this continues, the Palinode is going to be one very lucky man. A lot.

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