Already with the November-of-love children!

Update: More from Broadsheet …

Some said it early; now others are saying it often: On Election Night, ecstatic voters yelled, “Yes, we can! Yes! Yes! YES!” 

Sept. 11 gave us the desperate grope for end-of-days closeness dubbed “terror sex.” Nov. 4, reportedly, has given us hope sex: the ecstatic urge to, you know, like our man in Grant Park, connect with regular people. The drive to make love, not a $6 billion war. The panting anticipation of an administration that, with the possible exception of Lynne Cheney, is not completely weird about sex. And thus — as Jezebel suggests today — given our now-possible vision of a baby-worthy world, perhaps even a tossing of condoms to the wind (especially now that we may no longer need to hoard them). Abstinence, schmabstinence, baby!

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Anecdotal evidence suggests that last night, for millions of euphoric liberals, moderates, and sane Republicans, “Not tonight, honey, I have to blog,” became “YES WE CAN! YES! YES! YES!”

Take me, for example. As I watched Obama’s acceptance speech, heart — and loins — swelled alike. My loving man gave my hand a squeeze, and I was filled with a wondrous, deep and primal desire to embrace him and celebrate life. And even — now that we have a prayer of creating for them a worthy world — to make life, to make babies!

I know I’m not alone: Twitterer after Twitterer was whooping in the same lusty way. And whether or not there’s a resulting O-baby-boom in July, we can say this with some certainty: Inspired, united, ignited, we have officially replaced the terror sex of 2001 — that end-of-days groping for closeness — with hope sex, celebrating the true, transporting possibility of coming together as one.