Maine’s Hotbeds of Sex
It’s no wonder nobody in Portland ever has sex. Too much art, culture, festivals, nightlife, sporting events. Not to mention the Portland Water District’s policy of adding saltpeter to the water supply.
But there may be hope for the withered libidos of the state’s most populous city.
On the same day the Portland Press Herald ran a front-page story on Portland’s negative reaction to finishing dead last in a poll by Men’s Health magazine of the nation’s 100 “Hotbeds of Sex,” it also ran – seemingly without a hint of irony – an article announcing that Bill Clinton is coming to town.
Take that, Austin (number one on the list) and Boston (number seventy-six) and Billings, Mont. (number ninety-one) and all you other pernicious points of promiscuity. You may have gotten a little ink in a glossy magazine, right next to such informative articles as “All About Her Breasts” and “Last Longer in Bed!” but Portland is hosting the horndog-in-chief. There’ll be more sex in the city that night than they have in Manchester, N.H. (number ninety-six) in a year.
Unfortunately, that won’t do much for Portland’s sex ranking, since the Clinton event is technically in South Portland.
But all this talk of ratings did get me thinking about Maine’s own sexual hotbeds, places where the scent of pheromones on the breeze overwhelms the odor of pine trees, steamed lobsters, and sulfur-dioxide from paper mills.
So, exactly where are the state’s sexiest locations?
To answer that question, I checked to see how Men’s Health had come up with its list. It surveyed each city to determine birth rates, condom sales, sales of sex toys (or, as one dealer told the Press Herald, they’re called “relationship enhancement items”) and the number of cases of sexually transmitted diseases.
That last one is puzzling. Does a city rate better if it has a lot of clap and Chlamydia or none at all? You might think the former indicated plenty of activity, but the latter could be more of an inducement to unfettered fornication, always assuming you’re willing to risk the possibility of creating a child who will grow up to become a gubernatorial candidate.
In any case, all that seems to involve way too much work. By the time I got those statistics compiled, I’d be too tired to have sex. So, I’ll just go with the method I usually use for these weekly postings:
I’ll make stuff up. Here goes.
Number five on my list of Maine’s randiest communities is Farmington.
Not because its women sometimes march topless in the streets.
They do that in Portland, too, and we’ve already seen how that didn’t help the ratings at all.
No, Farmington makes my list because right now, nobody there is uptight about sex. Or anything else. The whole town is completely mellow.
The reason the good citizens of Farmington can deal with the concept of copulation in a relaxed manner could have something to do with the fact that there’s currently enough marijuana circulating on its streets to get the entire North Korean army high.
On Sept. 8, the local police discovered there’d been a massive theft of pot plants. They discovered this because they were stolen from the local police.
The cops and Maine Drug Enforcement agents had seized about a thousand plants from two local men, and decided to store them overnight in a garage where the town keeps odds and ends. But sometime before dawn, some enterprising person or persons pried up the door and made off with most of the crop.
Officers immediately started going door to door seeking witnesses (“No, man, I didn’t see nothin’ except the moon. What? I was raining that night? Well, there was some kinda light in the sky, streetlamp or something. It was so beautiful, man, I couldn’t friggin’ believe it. Then, me and the ol’ lady kinda looked at each other, and, y’know, both got the same idea, if you know what I mean, and I been in the sack ever since, until you dudes came knockin’”), which proved to be strangely unproductive.
To date, no suspects have been identified, although the police have ruled out Bill Clinton because he didn’t inhale.
The fourth sexiest city in Maine is Augusta.
I know, you think I’m crazy to pick the state’s capital as having much of a hoochy-coochy scene. But that’s because you’re thinking too literally. Consider it this way: What does state government routinely do to the citizenry? I’ll give you a clue. It rhymes with “trucks.” There’s almost no other place in Maine where that happens so often.
Except for our third sexiest town: Woodland Junction.
I admit it’s all about the name. That’s why several prominent locations in the state failed to qualify for this list, including such notable make-out spots as Moody (motto: Not Tonight, Dear), Trap Corner (motto: Not Until We’re Married, Dear), Sharp, Eugley Corner (motto: Not Until You Get Plastic Surgery, Dear), Dog Corners (motto: Woof!) and Blue Point (motto: Why Are You Walking Funny, Dear?). It’s tough to believe anybody ever has sex in those places. (And if they have, I don’t want to hear about it.)
On to the second-sexiest town in Maine: Old Orchard Beach.
According to my completely unscientific survey, everyone in Maine (and half the population of Canada) has had sex in Old Orchard, with more than forty percent admitting they did it right on the sand. They regretted that afterwards. And sometimes during.
I’ve personally stumbled across couples engaged in the act under the pier, behind a ride at Palace Playland, in the hall leading to a bar bathroom, and on a put-put range.
I skipped that hole.
Now, the moment you’ve all been waiting for, the announcement of the sexiest place in Maine. And the winner is:
It’s not just the name. That would be crude. It’s not about the location, which is at the entrance to Portland Harbor in a spot so inaccessible that it can only be reached at high tide on calm days – and then only for a period of time that might be too short for even over-stimulated teenagers to have sex. It’s not about the amenities, because there isn’t so much as a condom machine.
It’s about the lighthouse, stupid.
The only thing on Ram Island is an old lighthouse the federal government recently auctioned off for $190,000.
The new owner, reportedly a neurosurgeon from Windham, could do a lot to improve the sensual atmosphere of the place by pointing out that the structure looks a lot like a giant “relationship enhancement item.” One way to do that would be to rename it the Bill Clinton Memorial Lighthouse.
And since it appears Ram Island is technically part of the city of Portland, its tumescent form would almost certainly stimulate the population to activities conducive to higher ratings the next time Men’s Health decides to conduct a survey.
Also, it’s a good place for the Farmington cops to hide their pot.
Al Diamon prefers his e-mails to firstname.lastname@example.org to be in prose.