Intercourse is a different thing for both sexes.  I thought of this because a man doodled a whale spewing sprm out of his phallic head.  For men, intercourse seems a thing of progressive abandon, of adventure, and irresponsibility.  Surrendering to a physical rush that ends in spewing all over the place.  To get to that point, haste, irresponsibility, persuasion are required.  After that we pick p the pieces.  But before hand, building focus on that member, which frenzies and wants more until it finishes by spewing everywhere.  After that we sleep or eat.  Feed the self.  A woman has to open and cautiously admit a foreign member, bring someone in with their threat of contagion, their threat of pregnancy, to envelop someone who is a foreign body and accept them, accept the consequences of their entry.  Rather than spewing everywhere, the woman's end is often one of somewhat tiredness, but a lack of their own dizzying end and the desire for communion, to reunite with the person they allowed to enter so the passport to entry was not a mistake.  To have allowed the irresponsible swelling and building and spewing wasn't a mistake.  Someone they enveloped, who momentarily became a piece of them to eat and pursue their own tryptophan forever, pointing at things.  When we allow someone into our domicile, our home, our vestibule, the clean up when thy leave it empty is on us.  Dealing with the fallout of their dropped dishes, their pacing boredom, their careless entry and release.  In movies, after momentarily letting someone in, we cut to the woman walking defeatedly in a parka down a street with trees and brownstones, weather appropriate to the season.  She is bowed with her parka and ipod, adolescent and pinched.  Scenes of people walking away, riding off backwards in trains to inspiring Beach House-like getaway music typically connotes freedom, "getting out of Dodge," a turn in the road which, due to the person's eye opening journey, would augur a bright and new future.  The post intercourse picture of a woman walking, to a clinic, from a clinic, out of an apartment, is the breaking of a promise of connection, intercourse being the symbol of connection and the heavy responsibility of meeting someone on the inside, to share one's life with them.  Intercourse is like playing house, containing some physical symbols of a spiritual communion, like buying a ring as a joke, or taking a trip to Red Hook IKEA as a joke.  Playing with the symbols of relationship or cohabitation, each scary burdens, but physical communion creates an implicit connection, though apparently for one person.