First, obviously sex is just downright more interesting than widgets. Sex is right up there with money and power as effective human motivators. In my own case I was working in another field entirely and volunteering with a free sex information phone line one afternoon a week. When I found it to be the highpoint of my week I began exploring a change of professions.

Are sexologists more highly sexed than other people? Probably, some are. Or are they less so, as in "them that can, do; them that can't, teach"? Probably, some. Are they secretly - or blatantly - voyeurs who hide behind their positions in order to be able to say dirty words and ask outrageously personal questions with impunity? Probably a few of those too.

Being a professional in the field of sex is not all about being privy to other people's secrets, though. Many who call themselves sexual scientists are more the latter than the former. Previously I wrote the story of a primate center's researcher on the estrus cycles of apes. "Early every morning," he began, "I would approach the cages of the female bonobos and, with a very long cotton swab, I would collect a sample of their vaginal secretions..." From behind me a loud whisper interrupted with the comment "For this he went to graduate school?"

I would guess that most people who deal with sex the better part of their working days, whether in the laboratory, classroom, or therapy office, have some sort of personal investment in the topic, but it is likely to be more of a secret sorrow than a secretive salaciousness. Alfred Kinsey was chosen for the 20th century's definitive research work into the subject because his reputation as citizen and scientist was impeccable. He was the greatest living expert in the lifecycle and behavior of a particular species of wasp (not W.A.S.P.) Only later did biographers encounter stories of his open marriage and bisexuality. Of other hallowed names in the field of sexual research several were gay, another lived with his wife in an agreement of mutual celibacy, one was reputed to have had a long affair with his wife's sister, and one was rumored to be so concerned with conserving his semen that if some accidentally did escape he was said to recover it and swallow it.

I'm sure that a similar number of scandals could be uncovered among a random group of dentists, but my theory is that many of us in the field have a personal crusade. In the same way it's no surprise to discover the famous heart surgeon's mother died young from coronary disease or that Mr. Buff Body was called Fatty once too often as a teenager, there probably exists in the past of every sexology scientist, researcher, educator, and therapist some very personal reason for choosing this field of study. She had some predilection which society did not sanction, he got some damaging piece of misinformation about the nature of women and men which took him until post graduate work to struggle out from under. Every one of us wants to make sex a little less mysterious, a little less painful, a little more emotionally fulfilling than we ourselves had it growing up.

During the hottest part of last century's Cold War some comedian pointed out that the future of the human race rested on the mood of one or two possessors of The Red Button and that their moods rested on the sexual accommodations of their mates. "So," he said, "let's hope for all of our sakes that the world leaders got well laid last night."

Actually, then, what my colleagues and I have in common is a basic political activism. Since we can't know who the next world leaders will be, it's up to us to see that everyone has a more rewarding sex life.

You're welcome.