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Someone very close to me died recently. As I sat alone at my house that day, absorbing the news that she was gone, I wished that my lover was there with me. This was the second time in our almost two-year relationship that I had experienced the death of someone very, very close to me. The first death occurred in the beginning of our time together when one of our best friends overdosed on heroin. I got the call, broke down, composed myself as best I could, and then called my boyfriend to tell him. That night we cried, held each other, and made love.  I have had a lot of people close to me die. It seems every year I lose a friend to drugs, suicide, accidents, murder or disease. And as I get older I have begun to lose family members to sickness and old age. It never gets any easier. How hard I grieve, how much I feel, all depends on how close I was to him or her.But there is one thing that has remained steady through all of this and that is in my time of mourning, I've always felt the need to have sex in times of despair. And I'm not the only one. After 9/11, countless articles examined why people feel the need to merge during mourning, there was a phenomenon called "terror sex," based on the idea that "sometimes being physically close to someone is the best defense against death." It wasn't just 9/11 either. After the Bolshevik Revolution in 1917 there was an outbreak of public sex in Russia. And what about the Baby Boomers? A whole generation of people conceived because of WWII.  There is nothing more life-affirming than sex. On a purely practical level, the need for survival kicks in, the need to procreate, carry on the human species. But on an emotional level, there is the feeling that we don't want to be alone right now. That the world may be ending or life as we know it may be ending, and it's the last thing we're going to be able to do.In times of anxiety and uncertainty (and when do we feel more anxious or uncertain then when faced with our own mortality) we, as feeling, thinking human beings, feel the need to form bonds with people—even if only for an hour. And that's precisely what I did. Within an hour after the funeral I was back in my room making love with my partner. It was mind-blowing sex. The type of sex where tears roll freely down your cheeks, where you hold on to each other with a force and intensity you've never felt before, a passion, a desperation, a need to live like you've never lived before. In short, we had sex like the world was ending. And in a tiny way, as I closed my eyes and said goodbye, it was. 
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