The Gintlemen, Adrian: Let’s Not Talk About Sex.
I would like to think myself a considerate lover – in so much as now at an age to actually savour sex, not always frantically fly through the act. The satisfaction of my partner is very important to me, I have built up a repertoire of raunch over the years that seem to do the trick.
I can however offer no evidence of this. No glowing reviews, endorsements, or recommendations. It’s not something we seem to do is it? Sit back and critique performance. Would not using the Eurovision voting method to rate my mating help
me improve my performance? Questions abound – what if I’m nil points? Will tactical voting from ex’s on both sides lead to failure on the stage again?
Does it even matter, as we ebb and sway through our lives. Would the knowledge that dribbling at the peak of passion especially with your tongue out is a bit of a mood killer?
I have never asked – more decided I can’t be that bad. I have, however, been asked if a former lovers vagina was normal. My answer – How should I know?!
I appreciate many people are comfortable and confident to wax lyrical about sex. Those that know exactly what they want and how to get it. I don’t envy them, but I wish that my early learnings and experience of sex hadn’t been so mechanical and by the numbers. If I remember correctly I left sex education more traumatised than tantalised, and now as I approach middle age I know what I want, just not always how to ask for it. My point being that I should have been given the right information in my youth. Not led to believe it was a dirty act. Not having to find out more from some water damaged magazines dumped by a reservoir and secretly dried on a radiator. My parents had the almighty bible “the joy of sex” it’s illustrations albeit pencil drawn were great, but the only thing I took away from that was I probably needed a beard and a strange haircut to make it in the world.
80’s porn held no real answers, more a menu of career choices to satisfy the ladies. Window cleaner, plumber, washing machine repair man, tennis coach. With my exam choices I would probably have ended up a virginal tennis club laundry man – as I am scared of heights, so windows as a livelihood, despite the benefits package, was completely out of the question!
Enthused by schoolyard chatter about the ins and outs of it, the act no longer seemed out of reach. And then it happened.
Although afterward in reflection, I didn’t leave feeling like he man. There was no beating of the chest. In all honesty I was less knowledgeable than before! I didn’t ask for the scores, merely scuttled off puzzled.
That was that then, obviously as I have grown I have found ways to improve, and to ensure my customer service desk is unused. I just wish that we had been taught a bit more. I see they are introducing relationship lessons into schools, that’s great but I hope they have done their research and don’t just mess it up, then the future generations can possibly have what we wanted, when we wanted, how we needed.
As an aside though, I think a Graham Norton voice over would have been quite good!