We *may* have mentioned about being suggested for a Cosmo Blog Award nomination. No? Oh. Well some kind people decided to nominate us. DON’T WORRY. You can too. Big pink box over there on the right. Click through to the form and nominate us under ‘sex/relationships’.
Now. When *I* was little, my Much Older Cooler Cousin read Cosmo. Not me. It was pretty sexy and definitely for Older Girls. So this is, too. A little post about ACTUAL PROPER SEX. The best bits, the worst bits, the silly bits and the squidgy messy bits you’d rather not remember. Bowchicawowow.
1993. My house. Bunking off from school
My older sister had a VHS copy of ‘The Lovers Guide’ so myself and four giggly school friends decided to watch it. I still remember one scene vividly - A man and woman wake up. Man puts on his shirt and tie and goes over to the mirror. STOP! Why on earth would you put your shirt and tie on before your pants? Absolutely ridiculous. I remember his willy just hanging there while he titted around with his 1980′s hair do. Then the woman goes over, starts to fix his tie then gives him a little morning shuffle. WHILST HE’S WEARING HIS SHIRT AND TIE. The man was a yuppy, the whole thing was gross.
Just like yuppy penis man video I only remember snippets from sexual encounters past…
The man who had a mattress instead of a bedroom door
The time his Mum walked in
The man who took the term ‘Feeding the horse’ so literally that I fell off the bed.
The man who carried rats around Southend High Street on his shoulders
The time on the bathroom floor when I nearly got concussion
When dress up when went wrong and he had an asthma attack
Not exactly Mills and Boon stuff is it?
When Crumpet said about writing this post I was a bit hesitant. I know my other half reads it as well as his lovely Mum (Hi, umm sorry). I also pointed out that actually the best sex I’ve ever had is happening right now (not while I’m writing this obviously, that’s just not practical). Crumpet said something along the lines of “Well everyone will think he’s a champion then” which is a bloody good point really.
I’ve done a fair bit of sex in my time. Some good some bad and some completely baffling. Yet I can safely say all the best stuff has happened in the last few years. Maybe that’s because I’m older and more confident, or maybe it’s being with someone who I can be completely myself with. Or maybe just maybe (feel free to go throw up now) it’s because I’m with someone who I really love and trust.
See working in this framework I’m able to have brilliant sex. We can do the lovely slow looking into each others eyes sex that makes you feel all close and together or the drunken bit naughty lets pretend we’ve just met sex (You can call me Kitty Golightly)
When things go wrong like the time we were in the 2* crack den of a hotel and I had my period and began to wail ‘I look like Carrie when she’s in the shower scene!’ or the time the cat jumped on the bed and totally ruined my orgasm, we’re able to laugh it off (Eventually,once I’ve sulked for a bit first)
I know some people equate long-term relationship sex as being boring, and I’ve had long-term relationship sex that has been VERY boring but with the right person it’s anything but (Go ask @EasilyTempted). I think it’s easy for it to get boring though, you find something that feels good so keep doing that but then it stops feeling good. It’d be like playing Monopoly every single night of your life, there’s other games out there too like connect four and Kerplunk! It’s all about communication and imagination, grown up play time. Sometimes it’s what gets me through the day, the thought of what I’m going to get up to that night.
I asked myself the other day if we didn’t need food to survive, if it was just a pleasure thing and I had to choose between it and sex what would I pick?
I decided that was an absolutely ridiculous question and smugly devoured an entire trifle then crawled into bed with my lovely Mr (Hadn’t even shaved my legs. Long term relationship sex is brilliant!)
Now, Panda suggested that perhaps it’d be best to focus on the ‘lovely romantic relationship sex’ vs ‘quick dirty one night stand sex’ angle. I don’t have any other half or almost-mother-in-law to offend so HERE WE BLOODY GO. Five little tales of varying degrees of sauciness, cringe-inducing nonsense, and the usual Crumpet-brand of comical shame.
That Time in a Pub:
A lock-in, winding down at about 3am, after a week of some intense flirting that featured such subtle lines as “I was given a book about oral sex on my 16th birthday”. I was terrifically drunk and in the midst of a frustrating ‘dry spell’. By 3.30am we were all over the place. The bar. A table. A couch. The floor. BUT THEN. Then there were footsteps. The sound of a door creaking open. A triangle of light extending across the floorboards. “Are you still down here? Don’t forget to lock up, will you?” Shit. It was dark. It was definitely dark. IT WAS TOO DARK TO SEE ME, RIGHT? I grabbed my tights (and belt and pants and dignity) from the floor and legged it. They have CCTV now. I’m 98% certain that they didn’t back then, though.
That Time In Thailand:
Ah we were so disgustingly in love. So in love, in fact, that we ran away to Thailand for a while after having only spent 10 days in each other’s company as lovers. There had already been sun, heat stroke, a 14 hour bus ride with a ‘discrete’ fiddle under a beach towel and a 4-hour ferry ride in the back of a pick-up van with no windows in the company of a drunk policeman. By the time we reached the sea, we bobbed up and down together in time to the motion of the ocean, legs wrapped around each other as a storm rolled in over the hills and across the bay. Oh how deliciously romantic and sensual that all sounds. Except, there was a scuba-diving lesson taking place directly beneath us, followed by a round of applause once back on the beach.
That Time We Just Left:
I was sure I was of no interest whatsoever to this boy, actually. Then quick as a flash, drinks turn to shots, witty conversation turns to smutty innuendo, flirting ensues, body language becomes as subtle as a 12ft wide flashing billboard that spells out *FLIRTING* *FLIRTING* in a constant loop of programmed chasing LEDs. Both drunk. Both clearly up to no good. Evening rapidly descends to that point where you’re struggling to keep your hands to yourself. With little more than a nod and some perfectly understood eye contact, we promptly scoop up our things and leave. Because sometimes you just absolutely must.
That Time We Broke The Bannister:
Drunk. Storming home from my 21st birthday after a silly argument about a lost gas top-up card. Make up, quick nightcap, stumble up the stairs, don’t quite make it, rip tights, break banister by clinging on to it for dear life. Spend rest of evening digging three splinters out from the palm of my hand.
That Time It Just Didn’t Work:
July 8th, 2005. London is in a strange limbo between chaos and eerie calm. Trains are empty, save the few who sit anxiously clutching their belongings and nervously eyeing everybody else’s as we roll out of London Bridge towards a South London destination, the name of which I will now cunningly disguise to protect identity. So there I am in Bimbledon. We both know why I am there, yet we proceed with this awkward “shall we put a film on, then?” ritual. The film is Baseketball, which obviously sets the mood. Sexy. What followed included me choking on a mouthful of surprisingly loose shoulder-hair and a discussion along the lines of “mmm that’s nice can you feel it? Is it in?” “No. No that’s just a bit of my leg, actually”.
Now that I think about Panda’s suggestion to focus on the differences between relationship-sex and The Other Sort, I’ve noticed that only 2 out of those 5 encounters were mid-relationship rudies.
I’ve not ever ended up stuck in a routine of Boring Old Coupley Sex. I’m not proclaiming myself to be a wild sexy adventurer by any stretch of the imagination. For me, sexytime is just about the moment, I think. What you’re doing right then, and who you’re doing it with. Probably the gift of my lack of considering consequences and overactive imagination once again. Emotions and feelings change things, of course. But only afterwards…
Am also suddenly acutely aware that quite recently, a lovely boy told me that perhaps people find this all a little intimidating to read. That I can write openly and honestly about relationships and encounters and that boys aren’t used to coping with that. It bothered me for a while (sorry for bringing this up again and I know we have spoken about it in person…. but still). Anyway my point is – I actually found it pretty intimidating myself to write all of that down. But I’m glad I did. This was going to be a best time/worst time comparison. They’re just silly stories, really…