Today’s post will get a little graphic. Be warned if you are easily icked, or Amish, you should probably click away (slash if you are the latter, how the hell are you reading this? Sinner.)
I find it interesting when topics of conversation somehow come around to the subject of sex. If man thinks about it every 7 seconds, I suppose it’s only a matter of time before it will come up in conversation. You might find a bit of a discrepancy when it comes to women, depending on the looseness of their morals (among other things – e.g. vagina) but the topic probably won’t come up as much unless there is alcohol, pajamas and boob comparing going on in the same night, they are ladies after all.
Sex talk is fascinating, because no-one wants to appear unskilled at it, worst still weird. You’ll find a inconsequential trough of words and phrases used to describe the act between willing sex-partners. Perhaps the most overused and cliche that I have come across is:
“It was good”
*tilts head downwards slightly, looking directly at audience, lowering the voice*
Hell, that does sound ‘good’. That also sounds like an apt description for a dental examination but hey, what would I know? People will also describe experiences as ‘amazing’, ‘hot’, ‘disappointing’ and ‘alright’. Again, potentially, these words could all be used to describe a day of Melbourne weather. Why is it that people refrain from going into detail? If I had to take a guess it’s probably because we realise that our perception of said sex is probably blown out of proportion; overshadowed by the sheer gratitude that the actual act of having sex blinds us with. More truthfully could it be that we’re afraid of what we might reveal?
I once knew a guy who decided that he would be an active contributor to Chick Chat (see above: boob comparing) who then went on to talk about his penis, assuming that the condition of his genitalia was the model upon which all men were modeled (his unnerving narcissism caused his tragic downfall, although in a slightly less fatal, more hilarious manner than Narcissus himself). He brazenly announced the strange curvature of his appendage, to the group’s horror, most of them shaking their heads slowly.
I also believe that there is too much stake placed in sex chat; that reputations are formed and broken on the words of individuals who may have shared a fleeting moment or five under the sheets. People who are too confident about their sexual prowess immediately lead me to believe that they would be selfish and shitty lovers. No-one wants to be bad at sex. Just like kissers, I believe that people aren’t bad at sex, people are just incompatible. I watched a YouTube clip of some person talking about his pet peeves surrounding anal sex. He said something like ‘for God’s sake be clean down there, I don’t want to be worrying about that!’ For starters, I pity anyone who has the unfortunate experience of having anal sex with this man. He wasn’t overly attractive nor did it appear he would cuddle you afterwards. Secondly, while I agree with his sentiments, I don’t really know what he’s expecting; it’s not like he’s not putting his dick into a mailbox, there’s definitely potential for ‘worry’. People who speak about sex like this, as if they were perfect and blameless, are quite frankly, liars.
My friends are horribly open with their sexual lives, and their stories are amazing. While we all like to pretend that our sex lives mimic a byproduct of The Notebook mixed with hardcore porn, the reality is it’s often a lot less glamourous, less driven by narrative and has an alarming lack of Ryan Gosling. I have heard the gamut of stories, from the *good* to the horrific. Lost condoms in vagina? Check. Discovering warts midway through sex? Check. Everyone has a sex horror story; something sexually embarrassing to share to the greater vernacular of sexual missteps. Is it wrong to share them? I don’t know, I’m not the police. Sure, there’s a certain awkwardness to it. No-one wants to imagine their best friends in compromising positions but for Schadenfreude’s sake, they are fun.