I went to an awesome party last night and it ended about 8am. I’m not even going to pretend that I’m awake today. But it’s because I went to an awesome party that ended at 8am that I can now talk about something important (for once). You know what those excessively long social gatherings are like – at about 5am it’s just a small group of people savouring the very last dregs of gin and inevitably talking about sex.
I love those conversations. Being an open person, I find talking about favourite positions and sex toys the next best thing to actually experiencing them. And I have many friends who share this preference, no shame attached. I mean, if a person gives no fucks about loudly screwing someone in a toilet during a house party, they also give no fucks about telling everyone about it afterwards. But of course, not everyone is a crazed over-sharer. I also have friends who talk about sex without going into gruesome detail. They keep their private lives to themselves and that’s fine. I always assumed that behind their discretion hide perfectly satisfying, normal sex lives. One overly long party and a hundred G&Ts later my view changed dramatically.
The conversation turned to ‘Catholic guilt’. I admitted that despite my well-known promiscuity, it took me a long time to stop feeling slightly panicky after each casual encounter. Similar confessions followed. One girl, who is often outspoken about her contraception, admitted that she’s never actually had penetrative sex. Another, who is very open about her high libido, disclosed that she finds vaginal sex very uncomfortable. A guy known for worshipping his girlfriend and referring to their sickeningly perfect mutual orgasms revealed that actually their sex drives don’t match at all and he’s thinking about ending it. Pretty much everybody I talked to (who didn’t chase me away for being an obnoxious nosy harlot) had a secret that made them think their sex life is not normal.
Erectile problems. Insecurities about pubic hairstyles. Disgust at oral sex. Disgust at any sort of sex. General unhappiness and the feeling of not belonging to our sexy young generation and not fitting in with everyone else except that when everyone else isn’t fitting in either, there’s no longer anything to fit into. Or something like that. What even is a normal sex life?
To me, we’re talking about at least a few times a week, with lots of experimenting. Or at least, that’s how it’s been for the past few years, after I finally decided that I am notnthe whore of Babylon just because I like giving head. Shiny pretty magazines would have everyone believe whatever frequency and level of kink they say ‘normal sex’ involves. Well, I call bullshit.There’s no normal. Stop overthinking your oddities. We’re all odd.
I’m going to sleep.