That Was a Great Fuck

I’ve yet to met a woman who thought she was bad in bed.
I’ve known plenty of women who can rattle off an impromptu,
critical dissertation on the carnal failings of most men.

“He didn’t get me off.” “He treated my nipples like
Xbox control sticks.” “He came before his pants were off.”

that-was-a-great-fuck

Not all women are great in bed. Is the onus
on dudes to break the bedsprings? I say no.

It is both of our responsibilities
to be the best lay possible.

There are women who kick back Cleopatra-style
and dare their men to please them. Women who
use men like giant, hairy vibrators, and women
who are so eager to please, it can be overwhelming.

Everyone Feels Sexually Inadequate

There’s this schism between myth and reality,
the pretence that we are doing it every night,
that our sex is perfect, that we come together.

All those films and ads showing lithe sexy bodies
in showers, beds, on beaches. The media kids us
into thinking ageing is negotiable.

It fetishises youth and beauty, inaccurately
representing what most of us walking down
the street are actually like.

We’re sexually inhibited. We don’t have frank,
honest conversations about it with each other.

The upshot is that we create myths around our friends.
Everyone is better than I am, everyone is having
this wild sex life, while I’m not. The grass is greener.

Compound that with the images we are bombarded
with via the media. Lots of young people are
having fantastic sex and orgasms galore.

No wonder there is this rift between how
we present ourselves and who we really are.

We’re bombarded with articles on how to
reignite your sex lives. There’s always
a list of ways to have sex that’s
always exciting, different and novel.

They stoke up stack a myth, one used to sell
an aspiration about achievement and performance
Which we’ll never measure up to.

There are a lot of commercial reasons why
that message is put out. It’s not just insulting,
it’s pernicious. It’s the ‘be happy’ rule
that’s become part of our conditioning.

We’re not allowed to admit our inadequacies,
our less that fulfilled lives. It’s as if
we fear the bubble bursting.

“I’m fine, everything’s alright, of course
I’m happy, I have a wonderful sex life’.

We’re living under pressure, conditioned
to believe our lives have purpose.