Sex, that illusive three letter word that everyone’s talking about it – or not. How did people go about ‘doing it’ back in the day, did they learn from cave drawings or go on gut animal instinct? In the modern world there is so much out there to teach even the biggest wall flower the tricks of the trade but what does it mean for a generation bought up with technology?
When I was thirteen I remember buying a copy of Just seventeen magazine with an article which read ‘How to kiss a boy by a boy’ but as all teenagers will testify there is nothing you can read that will prepare you for that slobbery moment in the dark. It’s something you have to learn the hard way like ripping off a plaster – in my case the end credits of ‘Bend it like Beckham’ on the back row of a local cinema…charming. My point is there are some things that you can only learn through human interaction, like reading a swimming manual and then jumping straight in the deep end before you’ve got your 5metre duckling award.
I headed to the delights of London a few weekends ago and indulged in cocktails with a girl from my former university. Bourne Hollingsworth cocktail bar on Charlotte street is a bit of a speakeasy with white linen table clothes, a fashionable DJ and delectable treats served in tea cups – perfect for a ladies that leisure treat. We order two French 75s and before long get onto that major subject- ‘boys.’
My friend is a couple of years younger than me but being children of the ever growing internet age just a few years either side could have dramatic consequences on how you’re exposed to sex. She tells me about a new infection that is worse than chlamydia – a generation educated by porn. High speed internet came into play with mainstream effect for the UK in around 2008- my sophomore year. Before then things like You Tube weren’t quite the sensation they were today and as teenagers we could only access the internet via a dial up connection that died anytime any one used the telephone. Now with broadband, wifi, tablets and Iphones teens have instant internet access and for hot blooded adolescents that means one thing – porn. It’s not something I had particularly noticed myself but my friend pointed out that when I was first sexually active those I was active with learnt about sex through doing, human contact, learn by numbers that kind of thing. I mean I’m not saying they’d never watched a porno but the majority of young men today have their first sexual encounters from an early age by watching hard core porn via high speed internet access. So when they sleep with a girl it’s like they are trying to be in a porn film, a porn film in which they are the star, where they can’t get off unless they are spanking your ass, pulling your hair and finishing off on your chest as that’s what porn tells them women want. Blonde, big breasted, Malibu Barbie tanned, French manicured babes waxed within an inch of their life, moaning like a broken record, screaming ‘yeh baby give it to me…’ things which let’s be honest aren’t normally the most desirable on a first night of hanky panky with a new partner. It’s a sad state of affairs that appears to have infected men in their early twenties likes syphilis to the Victorians.
But have I, a woman of twenty seven escaped this epidemic? No. Thanks to smart phones being a single woman on the dating scene can be dangerous. Wattsap, facebook, Snapchat, high resolution Iphone cameras, these tools can make it easy for horny drunk individuals to practically have sex together without even touching- forget cheap thrills hook yourself up to the Wifi and you can get an instant erection without the price of buying a girl a drink let alone a date. It’s a dangerous game but one that 21st century singletons are playing.
I spent the past few weeks with a chest infection that has made me bark like a dog, the results of which being I have been devoid of hangovers since what feels like an eternity – not for want of not trying. I wasn’t meant to be out last Saturday but having rearranged post quarantine drinks I am. We head out to The Dog and Doublet in town- a relativity fresh venue that combines some of my favorite things, heated cobbles, indie rock music and well-made cocktails. The night is called cheap thrills- classy. Boys who think they’re Noel Gallagher congregate in Parkas that they don’t take off as sweating your bollocks off is the in style and skinny girls in skater dresses with pierced noses and perfectly applied smouldering kohl work the floor. Suffering from a temperature and not expecting to go out I look like I’m trying to be a dodgy concoction between the two, in a green parka with a black blouse and knee high riding boots. I look either accidentally cool or a mash up of the Miss Selfridge. Two tequila shots and a splash of wine for medicinal purposes I am feeling merry but not standard I just drank my feelings and wobbling on my heels merry.
Oasis plays… She’s electric, she’s in a family full of eccentrics,she done things I never expected. And I need more time she’s got a sister and god only knows how I’ve missed her….
A guy approaches me and starts to dance with me, normally I shake off such advances and if I don’t it’s because I can barely see but he’s alright so I go with it. He takes my hand, he spins me around, we dance, I kiss him. He’s pretty. I take his number. The night ends in a ‘Mr. Sizzle’ hotdog and a cab journey home with the girls drama free. I don’t know his name so he is saved in my phone as ‘Dog Man’ and I ‘Cheap Thrills…’ match made in heaven right?
I get three missed calls from him at 4am outside Gorgeous, the local premiere gay bar having lost his keys, thinking I’m his mate to let him in – smooth. That week as we text it slowly begins to dawn on me the problematic of dating back home in the suburbs. I’ve lived away for eight years with college and working in the city, living in house shares and dorms – environments which are perfectly acceptable for ‘booty calls.’ In a cosmopolitan capital that’s the culture- you can be sleeping in the same bed as someone for months without being regarded as official because there’s no pressure. I have a few friends who own houses but the majority of my single friends live at home with their parents – another case of generation X. Too poor to get mortgages and too pointless to rent. So how does this fair for dating? As a teenager you can bring someone home for Diet Coke and a cheeky poke no probs – ‘I’ve just got a friend over to watch a film etc. etc.’ But as a grown adult you can’t very well bring someone home that you’re not in a relationship with unless you somehow manage to muzzle them and sneak them out like an illegal immigrant in the morning…
Me and my on/off ex had it down to a perfected art form which is fine as part time lovers that met as teenagers and know the layout of each other’s homes, but with new acquaintances that meet in their mid-twenties, bringing someone back to share your single bed complete with zoo of stuffed animals just feels a little wrong. Then again dating a woman to get to the state of trust where you can invite her back for that illusive spark of ecstasy without the Spanish inquisition is far too much effort. It wouldn’t normally be but in the day and age where you can snap chat your cock and get back a pair of tits, risk free – unless you happen to look like Cameron Diaz the chances of you being wooed with traditional courtship can be minimal and a lot of relationships start with technology abled booty calls.
So what can be done for the age when chivalry is dead and sex is like a badly performed porno? If we have to be educated through film, it doesn’t have to go ‘Titanic’ car steaming, hand prints at that moment of lust seeking ecstasy. Watch Atonement, Top Gun, and Pretty Woman – learn from the best. James McAvoy, Tom Cruise and Richard Gere didn’t send shivers by telling the object of their desire how much they wanted to cum on their tits…
Romance doesn’t need to be dead. Remember boys, you can learn so much more from the warmth of a woman than the electricity of porn hub…