(If someone had told me that I could have met Ira Glass — here, with Sex, Etc. — in the course of doing sex ed as a teenager…)

Harald zur Hausen was awarded the Nobel Prize last week for his work drawing the connection between the human papilloma virus (HPV) and cervical cancer. In isolating the two strains of HPV, zur Hausen’s discovery led to the development of the vaccine Gardasil. Availability of the vaccine itself has been compromised by claims that vaccinating young women against cervical cancer would give them “license” to have unprotected sex. Though no link was ever made between condom education and distribution and increased rates of teen sexual activity, the same misinformation is being spread about Gardasil. Despite the pushback against public health policies recommending the vaccine for all young women, the US Centers for Disease Control & Prevention report that 2.5 million girls between the age of 13 and 17 have been vaccinated. Curiously, one population that is mandated to receive Gardasil? New immigrants to the United States seeking green cards. The Wall Street Journal reports that Merck, who produces Gardasil, have made $1 billion in revenue from sales of Gardasil, though they deny any role in lobbying for its mandatory administration.

“Hey, so do you want to get tested together?” What do you say, as someone who’s already been with fifty-something people, the vast majority of whom you don’t even bother asking about their “status” anymore because who is skilled enough to have that conversation anyway? Back in the day, back in the end-days of good AIDS education, it was enough to have a serious namedrop in bed — HIV, six month window, two weeks for the results — and just use condoms anyway. Not so now, not so. Now fucking in San Francisco and New York has only convinced me that everyone has HPV and herpes, and to just fucking act like it. That no one is as vigilant as the boys at the hooker clinic who track the City’s own index every day: chlamydia and gonorrhea of the throat, syphilis, the next big bads. Prevalence is not a word to toss down in bed, and anyway, someone’s cum is already on my leg.

We’re a sex-generation in the middle. There’s a long way between Keith Haring popping up on commercial breaks on MTV and The Midwest Teen Sex Show. Or George Michael cheekily preaching “monogamy” at you when you’re twelve, and whatever Michael Cera portends as a “skinny, soulful sex symbol.” Oral sex was the non-sex of 1998, making way for nonexistent sex trends like “rainbow parties,” teen anal orgies, and comprehensive sex ed classes that talk about queer fisting. (I swear: even in 1995, these supposed “HOWTO: Have Leather Sex” seminars were touted as evidence of why we shouldn’t be allowed a gay/straight alliance in my high school.) We fuck — at least we fuck, we haven’t had that scared out of us entirely — and we fuck anxiously. We fuck and we don’t tie fucking with some larger good fight. After riot grrl died, what did teenage girls reach for anymore, with each orgasm, with each “no, really, baby, your hand goes there“? And boys? Honestly, this is the best reason to give inter-generational sex a go, and hey, generations are shrinking so fast, you don’t even have to become a criminal to do it. Even if they aren’t as up on the whole condoms being a good thing thing, twentysomethings do have better music — and every once in a while, one will come along and surprise you. She’ll come get tested with you. He’ll have his own favorite brand of lube. She’ll have already got the fucking vaccine your doctor says you’re too old to get. The only thing that aches about it? Sex is timeless, and in a way, fucking someone with memories so different than your own is like nailing a ghost. A really cute one, that reminds you of things like, Once I thought every time I fucked I could change the world a little. Now? I just want to keep the people in it okay.