[Note from the Page of Hearts: The Queen is off with her stack of fountain pens and a whole lot of blank paper, so if you were paying attention, you will remember she asked readers to write in about their favorite couples. Keep doing that, by the way, especially if you watch “One Life to Live” or “Port Charles.” She told me to tell you that. Anyway, one brave reader wrote a whole column, and the Queen said, “Wow, that is way cool.” Actually, she said something more froufrou, like “How scrumptious for my dear friend Cin to offer up her talents to all of us this way! Delightful! Adorable! Marrrrrrvelous!” Yeah, well, whatever. So here’s the article from Cindy McL. 

Let’s all put our hands together for Cindy!]

 Whatever Happened To LOVE In The Afternoon?
Or Whose 50-Something Sexist Male Fantasy Is This, Anyway?

Following in the footsteps of my mother and the other females in my family, I’ve been a soap fan since the days of “Love of Life.” Yes, I’m aware that I just dated myself, but please note that I was a small child at that time.  During those younger years, it was simply the edge-of-your-seat drama that enthralled me. But by the time I discovered that boys weren’t as gross as I’d initially thought, the romance of soaps began to appeal to me more. There was always the hunky hero, the imperiled heroine and generally a scheming tramp or two to give soap relationships more of that good old angst. 

These days I can’t help wondering what happened to LOVE in the afternoon. Somewhere along the way writers, producers and daytime executives decided to “cut to the chase” quite literally. Forget the roses, the dinner, and the subtle innuendo.  And while you’re at it, forget the sweet words and lingering kisses.  Actually, you can just forget everything but hopping straight into the sack.  No music, no chocolates, and no condoms for that matter! And we wonder why we have a generation where 1 in 5 girls has had sex by the time they’re 13? And why teenagers are one of the fastest growing HIV-positive groups in this country?

Granted, I understand that soap characters aren’t exactly the images anyone wants teenagers using to guide the development of their moral foundations. But the fact remains that they do exactly that. Being an ABC daytime viewer, I can only speak from my experience in watching those shows. But if they follow some sort of general daytime trend, I fear for the sexual well-being of anyone who allows their actions to be influenced by what they see. I speak from the perspective of one who knows more than most people can (or desire to) understand about sexual habits and mores. I have been an HIV/STD counselor and educator for over a decade, so if I sound a bit miffed about some things, please understand that it comes from all the preventable problems I am faced with each day.

I could rattle off a hundred examples of the “skip the words, let’s get naked” syndrome, but I won’t bore you. If you’re a daytime fan, you know exactly what I mean. It’s frightful enough that young women feel that they must emulate the nearly anorexic look of most soap “beauties,” but toss in the lack of a moral compass and nonexistent decision making abilities and you have a recipe for disaster. What’s even more disturbing is daytime’s tendency to revel in dehumanizing and objectifying women. Where are the die-hard feminists when you need them?

Let me see if I have this right: You were framed for slicing and dicing your girlfriend, but it was actually her husband who did it? You were raped by a man you hate after he had you drugged? You only have conversations with your partner in crime between your public sex romps? You and your father have been dating the same hooker? You caught your teenage son on the living room sofa with a hooker? You have such poor judgment that you believed stripping was the only way out of a bad situation? You took advantage of a woman who’d been given a date-rape drug? You’ve experienced the horror of rape, but you married a man who allowed another woman to believe he’d raped her? You slept with your husband’s brother? You were once a brilliant attorney, now you’re just a mental patient who can’t follow a court order? Oh-kay!

Need I go on? The most astonishing thing is that the powers that be are actually targeting the 14-24 female demographic with these repressed, over-the-hill, sado-masochistic, male fantasies of amoral female sexuality. The fact that they conveniently forget that it’s the over 24 crowd that actually purchases the products they hawk is, strangely enough, beside the point. They glorify in promoting women as air-headed, sex-starved creatures directed solely by the whims of their men. Am I the only one who watches this stuff and thinks “Get a life already!”? Or how about some self-respect?  Better yet, follow the Scarecrow to Oz and ask for a brain! 

I can hear the executive mantra echoing through daytime corridors as I type.  “Women’s movement? Yeah, yeah, you get the right to be slimy scum and vermin like the men do, what more do you want? And while we’re promoting mindless sex, let’s just nix those outdated HIV references from the script — nobody worries about that these days. Who needs a Nurse’s Ball? But a Hooker Convention might work. Yeah, that’s the ticket!”

Thus my chosen ode to this rant is inspired by a Tina Turner classic: 

You must understand, though you’re grabbing my arm, makes my purse react

It’s only the thrill of meeting a trick, I want you bad.

It’s in the script… Only sex for us.

You must try to ignore, that it means more than that, oh, oh, oh…

 What’s lust got to do, got to do with it?

 What’s lust, but a way to get more screen time?

 What’s lust got to do, got to do with it?

 Who needs real love, when a quickie’s so sleazy?

I’ve been taking on some new clients, baby,

And I have to say,

We don’t need no stinking protection,

I’m not scared of more STDs, oh, oh, oh …

 What’s lust got to do, got to do with it?

 What’s lust, but a way to get more screen time?

 What’s lust got to do, got to do with it?

 Who needs real love, when a quickie’s so sleazy?

So let go of all those tired old ideas of two people actually getting to know each others’ names before they sleep together. Get the popcorn, sit back and prepare to be underwhelmed (or downright nauseated).  That is, unless you tape first and can find your fast-forward button quicker than Jesse James could pull a trigger.

Contributed by...
Cindy McLaughlin