Conventional thinking would have it that birthday sex is a cause for celebration. After all, what’s more individually satisfying than sex, and more self aggrandizing and gratifying than one’s birthday? The mere thought of combining the two should naturally conjure thoughts of fireworks and reckless breakdancing fits. As far as that last thought is concerned, maybe it’s just me who gets excited and explodes in to dance moves like: the robot, the schoolcraft, & the cabbage patch (I can’t breakdance, but if I could it would be the ultimate expression of joy). As a footnote, I have to include that when dancing is inappropriate or space is constrained, I simply Earl Flynn to myself (some of these are regional dances, but visual reenactments may be found via You Tube. Try: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zO5hRRr7JWQ or http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JxvzqbnT4Vk ).
But I digress, getting back on topic, culturally, we celebrate the idea of sex on our birthday. One’s birthday is a special occasion for a myriad of reasons. Not only is it an occasion where the individual celebrating the birthday is allowed excessive gluttony and self-serving behavior but others are expected to both cater to and encourage it. One’s birthday is also a rarity, occurring annually with no exceptions, so it holds a treasured status. Combine this understanding of accepted birthday behavior with the very concept of sexual intercourse and all sorts of deviance and indulgences (if not prohibited, then simply unpracticed) are added to the field of play.
Popular music even has a song celebrating such an occasion entitled, “Birthday Sex”, by Jeremih. The title of the song, like the physical performance, purposely lacks poetry. It’s egregious in its sense of purpose and general approach towards its craft. The chorus of the song simply repeats, “birth-day-sex, birth-day-sex, birth-day-sex.” It is melodic though painfully simple and uncreative. It drones on at an obnoxious pace forcing its way into consciousness. Yet again, I digress.Sex on one’s birthday is an expectation that grows with age. In one’s youth, sex is far more common and yet, still very new and exciting on a consistent basis. However, as the brutal harshness and redundancy of everyday life begins to take its toll, one’s birthday in and of itself becomes a refuge. And on this day of the year when selfishness is virtue, those drunk on the wine of immodesty want the ultimate power, sex. Yes, sex gives the power to an individual to completely dominate (or allow one’s self to be dominated by) another, physically and/or emotionally. Without it being explicitly stated, our cultural understanding is that birthday sex should be easily the ultimate sexual experience. It’s a once-a-year 24-hour free sex pass.
So, what’s wrong with engaging in birthday sex? What evil lies in engaging your most erotic sexual whims if only once a calendar year? And should we not find any moral/ethical grounds for choosing an anti-birthday sex stance, where did I develop such an unpopular political leaning?
Well, it should not come as a great surprise that the concept of birthday sex is anathema to me by virtue of its own narcissism. It is often assumed that such narcissism is normative and all individuals expect the privilege of birthday sex, which is somehow owed through birthright. In fact, such selfishness is so normative that the very concept of birthday sex becomes cliché through the perspective of age. It loses its creativity, vigor, and edge in becoming formulaic over the years. Furthermore, the power dynamic can be contrived and cumbersome. Finally, the pageantry of birthday sex takes from the sexual performance one of its major positive characteristics, spontaneity ¾or more specifically, the perceived value of being an organic object of affection.
To narrow the scope, I can speak for the married man and long-term boyfriend by acknowledging that the requirement of sex can make it a chore. Maybe it is more true for women in these situations. The birthday becomes a physical and emotional obligation. Sometimes the obligation requires one to perform special sex acts and other times to be bothered to care in some capacity one way or another. It’s assumed that two people in a relationship want to have wild, deviant, uninhibited, sex.
My conclusion is that birthday sex is a cultural artifact that tends to go overlooked or at least it travels below the radar of common discourse. Though it may be of tremendous benefit if only as a last rights to sexual intercourse for some monogamous parties, it is largely a single person’s game. Those who can most appreciate birthday sex in our culture are those who are single or in a short-term relationship. For them, sex often retains a premium value. In fact, birthday sex is little more than another excuse to have sex. The fact that this occasion is due to a birthday establishes that the sex must be special and particularly pleasing to the sexual honoree.
This typically is not the case for the married and those in long standing partnerships. The power dynamic of sex between partners shifts and changes in many ways over time. Birthday sex still has meaning, but what that meaning is will vary from year to year. History has a way of shaping power relationships, and therefore sex, over time changing perception, passion, and overall drive.
This all brings me back to my point and the genesis of this article. Last week I was confronted with the ultimatum that is birthday sex and felt the need to balk on the request. Instantly I was faced with what felt like the rejection of someone else’s natural rights. But then came the perplexing question of how the violation of someone else’s natural rights could be dependent on my inaction. The answer was easy, because birthday sex is not a natural right, it’s a cultural practice (& a foolish one at that). Why should one wait until their birthday to fulfill their sexual desires and engage their sexual imagination? What exactly is the purpose of making an event out of sex and inhibition when it is so readily available to us? It's a game of power and the illusion of compliance. That is the problem of birthday sex. I, for one, want no parts of it.
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