If I had to judge my sex life by how many times I've had an orgasm, I'd get a big fat F. Oh, I'm sure I have more notches than someone else, but I've had long, medium, and short stretches where I haven't buttered up to anybody else's body or even had my own private Jill-off. Yet this is the last thing I think of when I consider my erotic life. I say "erotic life" instead of "sex life" because when someone asks me about my sex life, it's code for "Are you getting laid?" So I need a code for my reply, which is, in effect, "Getting laid isn't the half of it."

My dreams are filled with sex; my work is inspired with sexual energy; my family and friendships are influenced in so many ways by my sexual creativity that I couldn't even pinpoint them all. Some therapists tell people to search for a sex life, to get out of the house and into the right singles love boat, but actually your sex life is rocking your boat every minute of every day. You never have to leave the house or make a single phone call.

I remember snooping in a neighbor's bookcase when I was a kid, discovering their garishly illustrated Kama Sutra with more than 100 pages featuring more than 100 pretzel shapes to screw your body into. It had all the appeal of a periodic table. This is what I had to learn to have sex? The book's title invoked erotic and spiritual symbols, but the spirit behind the presentation was chopped liver. I had been so excited to think that one day I was going to have a sex life--a real adult sex life, as inspiring as the music I heard on the radio, the romantic novels I read, or the passionate embraces I saw dissolve on the screen. This book was a bitter disappointment.

My childhood intuition was right. Those top-40 hits were more sexy than a hundred nudist diagrams, and so were the novels and movies I thrilled to, because they possessed sexual creativity.

Erotic experience is a wake-up call, the sign you're not only alive but bursting. As my friend Michael once said, "It doesn't matter whether you're cooking a meal or playing basketball or writing a chapter. Sometimes you get this rush of holistic energy, and you'd swear that you just got laid."

"But how come more people won't admit it?" I asked. "It's not like I can line up architects and rocket scientists to admit that, yes indeed, they built that atom, that bridge, and they owe it all to some serious erotic inspiration. Everyone thinks that if they admit how much sexual energy fuels their everyday life, they won't get any respect."

"Haven't they ever heard of a little thing called sublimation? You go to any museum, you look at the classic Renaissance paintings, where everyone is supposed to be praising God and fearing the devil, but what is it, after all? Naked bodies everywhere! You're going to tell me these painters didn't get off on that? Their faith, their painting, their sexual energy--it's all the same thing," said Michael.