Sex on the beach – a 30 year Retro-spective
When you’re 18, and a boy asks you to go to the beach, you grab your parent’s Pendleton blanket, dash out the door, and go to the beach. You are probably wearing jeans and a hooded sweatshirt.
In college, when a guy asks you to go to the beach, you pull the blanket off the bed in your dorm room and locate 2 cans of Budweiser beer. You’re probably wearing a sweatshirt with your school logo and jeans.
In your 20s, when a man asks you to the beach, you grab a tattered quilt from a roommate’s closet, you grab a bottle of Mountain Red, a wedge of brie, a loaf of French bread, two glasses, paper napkins, and your Swiss Army knife. You’re probably wearing an embroidered peasant blouse, your sweatshirt from college and jeans.
In your 30s, when a friend asks you to the beach, you get your Pendleton blanket, your Swiss Army knife, a decent bottle of Pinot Noir, a small, inspired meal including: a green salad, French lentils, two kinds of cheese, grapes, both crackers and a baguette, cloth napkins, truffle brownies, and you place everything in a well appointed picnic hamper. You are most likely wearing a pair of designer jeans, a T-shirt, a hoodie and a leather jacket.
In your 50s,when a man asks you to the beach, you get your Pendleton blanket, you find the sunscreen, your hat, your sunglasses, get a cashmere wrap to go over your cashmere hoodie, pull a great bottle of Copain Pinot Noir from your wine stash, throw together a picnic including an impressive triple cream, imported fig jam, a loaf of that great Acme bread, some of the fabulous Swiss chard with garlic and potatoes and the balsamic vinegar reduction you threw together, melon slices and grapes, two lemon tarts and your Swiss Army knife.
You easily locate the small serving platters, cloth napkins, a tablecloth, two Reidel glasses.
You pluck a rose from your garden and locate that little vase to put it in. Everything fits in the lovely, antique picnic hamper you have had forever. You put the cat out, turn the answering machine on, find that old, worn and comfy sweatshirt from college, slip into your faded pair of jeans and drive over to pick him up.
“For times they are a changing…” Bob Dylan
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