Saturday, August 20, 2005
How to have fun
Last Friday night my boyfriend and I were approached by some hoodies on Wimbledon Common.
Having staggered out of the pub at closing time after a brief binge drinking session, we’d decided to go looking for shooting stars. So we put a bottle of champagne into my handy chiller bag and found a nice hill in the middle of the dark common on which to lie, drinking bubbly and looking up at the Leonids meteor shower.
We’d seen a dozen or so leave bright streaks across the sky, and drunk half the bottle, when a couple of youths wandered past us with a cheery greeting to sit further up the hill and smoke, joined later by a few more mates. Most of them had their hoods up and, frankly, I’m not surprised. It was damp and chilly and none of them seemed to have a proper coat.
After a while one of them came and asked, rather politely, if they could join us. We all sat smoking and chatting in the dark, interrupted only by cries of "Wooah!" and "Did you see that one?" I’d drunk half a bottle of champagne and several pints of Guinness, so I can’t remember what we talked about, but I do remember that some of them got a bit restless and ran off to do "shoulder-wrestling". This seemed to consist of sitting on your mate’s shoulders while he ran down the hill and then you all fell over. In the dark, I may have missed some of the finer points, but it just goes to show that the kids still know how to make their own entertainment.
Talking of which, one of the writers who shares my office is researching an article on designer sex toys. Apparently, people like Paul Smith and Philllllipppppe Starck are now designing dildoes and the like, so stylish, liberated couples can leave them lying around in their stylish loft apartments. I’m not sure if the idea is to show off how open-minded you are about sex, or how thoroughly your home is designed.
Either way, I disapprove. Sex toys shouldn’t be left lying around and, if they are, they should look like sex toys – sleazy, suggestive and slightly frightening. Sex is meant to be private, which is why porn works. If you could watch real people having sex all the time, why would you buy badly-lit videos of them doing it with risible dialogue? Doing something furtive and forbidden is half the fun (that’s on a good night – sometimes it’s the only fun) and I resist any attempts to make sex something you can talk about at dinner parties.
So join me in the Campaign for Real Sleaze. Keep sex shops in disreputable back streets, and preserve the illicit thrill of doing something really dirty. Or, before you know it, Habitat will open a marital aids department and TV shows will come in to makeover your bedside drawer. "This vibrator is soooo last year!" Come on, guys, is this really about sex, or about avoiding sex and talking about something safe and clean like decorating instead?
Sex without the forbidden and the passion and the danger is just wanking, however many people you do it with. Wanking’s a cheap hobby, but it’s nothing to get excited about.
Having staggered out of the pub at closing time after a brief binge drinking session, we’d decided to go looking for shooting stars. So we put a bottle of champagne into my handy chiller bag and found a nice hill in the middle of the dark common on which to lie, drinking bubbly and looking up at the Leonids meteor shower.
We’d seen a dozen or so leave bright streaks across the sky, and drunk half the bottle, when a couple of youths wandered past us with a cheery greeting to sit further up the hill and smoke, joined later by a few more mates. Most of them had their hoods up and, frankly, I’m not surprised. It was damp and chilly and none of them seemed to have a proper coat.
After a while one of them came and asked, rather politely, if they could join us. We all sat smoking and chatting in the dark, interrupted only by cries of "Wooah!" and "Did you see that one?" I’d drunk half a bottle of champagne and several pints of Guinness, so I can’t remember what we talked about, but I do remember that some of them got a bit restless and ran off to do "shoulder-wrestling". This seemed to consist of sitting on your mate’s shoulders while he ran down the hill and then you all fell over. In the dark, I may have missed some of the finer points, but it just goes to show that the kids still know how to make their own entertainment.
Talking of which, one of the writers who shares my office is researching an article on designer sex toys. Apparently, people like Paul Smith and Philllllipppppe Starck are now designing dildoes and the like, so stylish, liberated couples can leave them lying around in their stylish loft apartments. I’m not sure if the idea is to show off how open-minded you are about sex, or how thoroughly your home is designed.
Either way, I disapprove. Sex toys shouldn’t be left lying around and, if they are, they should look like sex toys – sleazy, suggestive and slightly frightening. Sex is meant to be private, which is why porn works. If you could watch real people having sex all the time, why would you buy badly-lit videos of them doing it with risible dialogue? Doing something furtive and forbidden is half the fun (that’s on a good night – sometimes it’s the only fun) and I resist any attempts to make sex something you can talk about at dinner parties.
So join me in the Campaign for Real Sleaze. Keep sex shops in disreputable back streets, and preserve the illicit thrill of doing something really dirty. Or, before you know it, Habitat will open a marital aids department and TV shows will come in to makeover your bedside drawer. "This vibrator is soooo last year!" Come on, guys, is this really about sex, or about avoiding sex and talking about something safe and clean like decorating instead?
Sex without the forbidden and the passion and the danger is just wanking, however many people you do it with. Wanking’s a cheap hobby, but it’s nothing to get excited about.
