It’s called “Monsoon Wedding,” not “Monsoon Wild Anonymous Sex in the Back of a Kia”

There was a worldwide sex study released recently saying Indians (from India, not the North American ones who run casinos) on average don’t have sex until they’re 22.9 years old. Austrians get laid the earliest at 17.3 years old (Americans lose it at 18.o, fifth behind Australia, Germany and Brazil) Malaysians are the oldest to lose their virginity at 23.0 years of age but we know even less about Malaysia than we do about India so we’ll leave them out of this conversation.

So I’ve gathered my think tank at the Bass-to-Bass for some heavy drinking and a lot of wild speculation about a country many of us aren’t very familiar with.

“All right, so why do Indians have sex for the first time almost five years later than Americans?” I ask the panel, who are well into their eighth pitcher of Peter Cetera’s Glory of Lager (I am the man who will fight for your lager… I’ll be the hero you’ve been drinking of…).

“I think it has to do with the arrainged marriages in India,” says Anonymous Doug. “You really don’t want to be going around banging other guys and getting into relationships when at any moment you could be getting a call from your parents saying they found someone for you to marry.”

“I think it’s a cultural thing,” says Ninja Vicki. “Ever see a Bollywood movie? Kissing is considered really risque. Hell, they wanted to put Richard Gere on trial for kissing that one Indian actress. Meanwhile I can easily pop on down to the local Blockbuster, rent ‘Wild Things,’ and not only see Denise Richards and Neve Campbell make out but I get to see Kevin Bacon’s wang too. And that’s what kissing is like in a Bollywood movie, it’s like showing off your wang in an American movie.”

“Keep in mind this is the country that gave us the Kama Sutra,” says Tina the Lesbian. “Plus, there’s a billion people in India. I think that’s evidence of a favorable outlook on sex in general. They just have a problem with public displays of affection.”

“Maybe you can’t have sex in India until you complete Kama Sutra training,” says Mikka. “Sort of like college, where most people get out when they’re 22. And like how sometimes it’s hard for graduates in America to find a job fresh out of college, it could be hard for Indians to find someone to bang right out of Kama Sutra College.”

“You’re forgetting the caste system over in India,” says Bernie the half-cyborg cat. “I don’t think you can bang someone outside of your caste, or if you can I think you need a note from like the mayor or something.”

“Maybe it’s reincarnation that’s the problem,” says Avonia the Wiccan Pimp, who’s a bit of a lightweight when it comes to beer so she’s a bit wobbly. “I don’t think you want to have sex with someone you had sex with in a previous life, especially if back then you had a bad falling out.”

“I think it’s because they don’t have time for sex,” I say. “It takes forever to do anything in India. Bollywood movies are like four hours long. Cricket matches take a week. Weddings last an entire month. When the hell is there time to have sex?”

“And don’t forget the constant monkey attacks,” says Anonymous Doug. “How can you get in the mood for love when at any moment an angry band of monkeys can come rushing in and steal your vindaloo.”

“Maybe it’s all the curry they eat,” says Ninja Vicki. “I never hear anything about curry being an aphrodesiac.”

“What kind of music do Indians play to get in the mood for sex?” says Tina the Lesbian. “What is their equivalent to Barry White or Marvin Gaye? ‘Cause you don’t have to be straight to love ‘Sexual Healing.’”

“I don’t think I could make love with a sitar playing,” says Bernie the half-cyborg cat. “I need some bass to get into the groove.”

“Do you think a sari is hard to get off?” asks Mikka. “I look at those things and I think either they’re really, really easy or really, really hard to get off a woman. That might play a small part.”

“I think I wore a sari once,” says Avonia. “Or did I play Parker Brothers Sorry!. I’m not sure. Hey! Let’s play Parchessi! Indians created that game, and it’s sort of like Sorry!.”

Alas, there is no Parchessi in the bar. So we decide to play indoor cricket. I don’t think Mikka appreciated having to be the wickets, especially when Ninja Vicki whipped his bails off. He won’t be going for a sixer tonight, that’s for sure.