December 3, 1962. I think the 60s are starting at last. He is writing oon the Brown Hotel stationery from Louisville, KY where we stayed together over Thanksgiving. It is a song to hotel rooms and beds in general and activity that can happen therein. I won't go into details. He actually doesn't go into details. It is all done in a tone of wonder and happiness and excitement and love. I don't know that anyone still writes such letters. Do they have the same sentiments? Or is sex so usual anymore that the magic is gone. I don't hear much anymore from people young or old about the wonder, the excitement, the absolute joy of sex with someone you love. Do people still make love? Or do they just have sex?

He couches this encomium in a fantasy idea of university classes in this wonderful thing. I think that finally happened. I think we ended up with Dr. Ruth. I think the sex pedants talk about making love, but I really think they only have sex.