ChicTrib

John Kass

In time of terror, many have one thought in mind

Published October 4, 2001

Today we examine one of the most peculiar phrases in American journalism.

It's "Terror Sex." Or, perhaps, "Terror Sex!"

It's a trendy phrase, linking indiscriminate human arousal with apocalyptic fear after the Sept. 11 terrorist attacks.

The Los Angeles Times has explored the "terror sex" phenomenon. And Salon Magazine, the Internet site, has also addressed the trendy phrase.

It's edgy, yet accessible. It sounds extremely peppy on morning radio.

But just what is "terror sex," anyway?

For most American men--like the guys at the Billy Goat breakfast club--"terror sex" would involve a nightmare co-starring Hillary Clinton.

"One of those revolving nightmares, when you think you're finally awake, only you're still in the nightmare with Hillary," one of the breakfast club Tonys might say. "You're sweating in fear, safe in your own bed, thinking it's over, and Hillary comes waltzing out of the bathroom yelling that you left your socks on the floor.

"That's terror, if you catch my meaning, my friend," a Tone might conclude.

You might think this is the belief of a few embittered Clinton haters who linger in the Breakfast Club.

But it's a nonpartisan issue. Ask any guy.

And let's not forget the point of this exercise, which is to examine the "terror sex" trend.

Once journalists start using such a phrase, it's almost impossible to stop.

It could also be a real reaction to real terror, as human beings cling to each other to allay fears of the great beyond, especially when Osama bin Laden wants to push more of us into that beyond.

So in that context, it's reasonable.

"Or it could be a weasel's device to use any excuse to get sex," said a close friend.

"Do you remember a guy years ago, putting Leonard Cohen albums on just to trick women into thinking he was sensitive? If I hear `Famous Blue Raincoat' again I'll kill somebody, Mr. Sensitive. Do you remember that guy? Mr. Sensitive?"

I told my brother never to call me again and hung up the phone, returning happily to my work.

Consider a portion of the Sept. 21 Salon story by writer Cole Kazdin.

"Ruby ... had been noticing a new phenomenon among her close friends. ... The world had changed; so had relationships. Now, just about everyone she knew was having what she and her friends called `terror sex.'"

I can't go any further because it involves a woman asking a barrel-chested man to comfort her; and two dusty couples on a rooftop.

The Los Angeles Times story quotes psychologists who explain that human beings crave such intimacy when they think they're about to die.

This is exactly what Olympia Dukakis told her philandering husband, the plumber played by Vincent Gardenia, in the movie "Moonstruck."

Actually, many wives of middle-aged men tell them this truth, but they don't believe it or understand it, because their brains aren't working properly, and only truly begin working when they're sitting at a table at the divorce lawyer's office.

"I have heard all kinds of people say, `I don't know why, but I feel like going out and having sex with strangers,'" said the psychologist, who was also peddling a how-to sex book. "What they are saying, is, `I want to be most alive the moment before I am dead.'"

This is logical.

Unless, of course, the only stranger that's available is an evil dwarf perched on a toadstool in a misty glen.

And so I traversed the Tribune's newsroom on Wednesday asking people if they understood the real meaning of "terror sex."

Here's the question: Would you have sex with a stranger before a terrorist attack?

"I don't know," said one reporter, picking up the phone. "Why don't you wait there while I call Human Resources and they can advise you?"

Not wishing to be devoured by the merciless bureaucratic sex police, I ran into another office.

"Would I have sex with a stranger if I knew a terrorist attack was about to claim my life? Of course," said another colleague. "But wait. I've been married for years now. What are you supposed to do, again?"

Another colleague said she remembered when the threat of nuclear war was real, in October 1962, during the so-called Cuban missile crisis.

"That week, all the college girls were losing their virginity," she said of her college class. "It was quite remarkable."

According to government vital statistics, a downward spiral in birth rates was stopped. In July and August of 1963, about nine months later, births were on the upswing.

"Terror Sex!" sounds like a Chuck Goudie promo for a sweeps-week newscast.

But it works.

jskass@tribune.com

-- Anonymous, October 04, 2001