Once again

  Once again, I wonder if I am not being clear and/or concise enough?  Or, is it that no one is willing to think?  

So, I will try, once again.

Humanity is a mess.  I don't think anyone would argue with that but, if so, please let me know.

So, why is humanity a mess?  If you say it's just the way it is, I will throw up.

I can even narrow it down, though it will be a leap for you to even accept this simple statement.  Men are especially a mess.  I don't want to get distracted by getting into whether all men are a mess or not.  They are not.  Some overcome that which should not need to be overcome.

If you are willing to accept that statement, then, why are men a mess?  What could possibly be such a burden for men that they cannot accept their situation?

As a young boy becomes a man, he has the experience of puberty and everything that goes with it.  Maybe there are those that are prepared for the colossal failure of coitus to be more than the rutting of an animal but it seems unlikely.

For a human, consciously thinking sentient being, it is starkly clear that coitus can and should be so much more than a few seconds or a very, very few minutes of coupling.  It should be able to become a loving act.  No pills, acrobatics, appliances, or alternatives should be necessary.

That is the standard that somewhere between 75% and 99% of men experience.

In other words, we have inadvertently accepted far less than our sentient, conscious awareness knows should be possible.

It is possible.  It is easily possible for a sentiently aware human being to transform the act of coitus into a loving event that extends to expressing the man's love for his woman in the most essential way possible.

Because we are consciously aware, the human race will remain a demented animal until it can do what it knows damn well it ought to be able to do.  Accepting an animal's rendition of coitus diminishes our existence.  In many, it diminishes the existence to the point of madness.

The rest, the long, painful, awful path that we have taken for three millennia to get to the point where we can even broach the subject of sex (and, particularly, coitus, though no one besides me has gotten that far yet) in an open manner is in the eleven books that it took me more than a dozen years to write as I broke through all of the paradigms of nonsense that we have accepted, all of the excuses we have used, all of the bizarre complications we have added to a sentient existence for three millennia in order to avoid the glaring truth.  Coitus should be a loving act.