A valued congregant once complained that I talk about sex too much.  I sympathize with her.  It’s a “touchy” topic.  It stirs our hurts and hopes, our anxieties and arousals, our loneliness and lovingness.  Is it the best of life, or is it what Andy Warhol quipped, “the biggest nothing there is”?  Fair warning: I won’t settle these stirrings.  Because I get a weekly report from Mailchimp on how few or many open and read this site, I know hardly any do.  It takes days…