” I Need Sex “

You what?

” I need sex. If I don’t get sex I will be a failure. I will be sick. I will be terrible…”

Hogwash. If you don’t get sex you won’t be any of those things. You’ll just be yourself with your clothes on and a good deal more spending money in your pocket. You’ll have time to do pleasant and fun things without worrying about consequences. You will be able to avoid any number of unpleasant outcomes – both physical and mental.

” But everyone else is having sex. ”

No they’re not. They might be telling you that, but a great many of them are lying. They are bragging about it in hopes of making themselves look interesting or sophisticated or exciting. They could do that by reading a book.

” But what if I’m missing out? ”

Here’s a textbook on venereal diseases. Find out what you’re missing…knock yourself out. You’ll love the chapter on herpes. It’ll stick in your mind, like the virus sticks everywhere else.

” But what if I fall in love? ”

So fall. Fall as hard and fast and wet and foolish as you want to. It has nothing whatever to do with sex, as the porn channels on the internet make perfectly clear. You can have a superb romance dressed in woollen longjohns and sensible shoes. You can do it in cold weather and look absolutely stunning against crashing sea waves.

” So sex is not as good as it is made out to be? I can do without it forever? ”

Nahh. Sex is alright. Dive right in when you find a chance. But don’t hang about the edge of real life just mooning and mooching – use your time to enjoy everything else. If it gets you, it’ll grab your crotch anyway, and if it doesn’t you can be happy doing other things.

 

 

Not So Much A Kept Woman…

As a preserved one.

I am not sure I have ever met a kept woman. At least none have ever admitted to the fact – and there have certainly been no receipts or account books on the table. Yet, I suspect that there may have been a few cases…

And not just kept women – kept men as well. I’m darned sure I know a couple of those. And fine fellows they are. I should welcome the chance to join their ranks, if the rest of my family would sign off on approval.

The concept of keeping someone is as old as the sexual urge. That’s what it amounts to in the end, and any nonsense about meetings of the minds and artistic muses can be blown up the chimney as so much smoke. There is a quid pro quo and if this involves fishnet stockings and champagne suppers so much the better. In some cases the ladies can wear the stockings…

Is it legal? Sometimes…if the transaction is adequately reported to the taxation department and no attempt made to disguise the cost of the stockings as a work-related expense.

Is it moral? Yes, of course. Everything is moral if you look at it the right way. Just turn your head sideways and squint.

Is it safe? Sometimes…relationships that are entered into loosely can be exited in the same way and sometimes they are more of an intersection or exchange station than a fixed establishment. Beware those arrangements that are so open as to permit anyone to enter.

Is it aesthetic? Well, that depends upon the parties involved. There have been more instances of frog princes than toad princesses, but it so much depends upon where the money is at any one time. It is rare for a frog prince to be kissed by a frog princess, and when it happens all you ever get are pollywogs.

Is it fun? We are led to believe it is, if we read the literature. But reading further may uncover the exploitative nature. This can be seen from both sides; I recommend reading Zola’s novel ” Nana ” for  a view of the thing. It has a weak ending, but a powerful mid-piece.

Can anyone join in? Well, considering that you need money or beauty, not everyone is free to participate. You may have neither, in which case you are better off finding true love or at least a consuming hobby. If you have both, you are in the cat-bird seat to command others. If you have one or the other, it can be sold advantageously.

What if true love intervenes? Well, then all bets are off. Cupid and Venus are the most fickle of influences and they can spoil lives as well as plots. ” Beware ” sounds trite, but beware…

Final advice. Diamonds are a girl’s best friend, followed by Anita Loos’ books. A man’s best friend is a dog and a gun, provided it is duck season. Couple if you must, with or without commerce, but reserve some time for rest and recuperation. And never put anything down in writing.

I’m Worried About Sex

I took this to my therapist and she assured me that I was fine. Everyone worries about sex. Some worry that they are never going to get any and some worry that it is not going to stop. She just worries about finding her underwear later.

My own anxiety revolves around what I have been told about it. The instructions I received when I was 17 years old seem to have been changed considerably now that I am 72. I say anxiety, but really I am somewhat relieved that the etiquette and mores have been altered since 1965. I would run a mile to avoid a disco and the flared pants just get me laughed at.

Now, in the interim, I have married and fathered a daughter who is now hovering over me like a female Sikorski S-55. It is rather nice, and shows that she is a loving and caring person but it is making it darned difficult to slip out of the house and go to the hardware store. I just get to the door and I can hear the Wocka-Wocka of the blades coming up behind me with the question of what do I think I am doing…

But that interim… You woulda thought that I would have discovered the deep and meaningful message of sex in the 55 years, but I am still as confused as ever. Watching Jane Fonda movies didn’t help. I’ve watched ’em and I now know how to clear the breech on a North Vietnamese anti aircraft gun but I’ve no idea how you do the same to Jane.

There was a brief period in the middle where it all seemed to be opening up. The subject of sex, not Jane Fonda’s gun breech. Talk-dirty-to-me therapists were all the rage and there were sex shops and sex tapes and presumably trays of CWA Sex Lamingtons. I missed out on them all.

What of the future? Well Jane is no longer as exciting as she was…unless you are into political protests. I daren’t go to the pole dancing bars in case someone spots me and forces me to get up and spin round. I may have to continue writing steamy literature and let it go at that.

Easy Does It

I have discovered that sex, photography, and building model airplanes have a great deal in common – leaving aside the question of what you do with the tube of glue, the most noticeable thing is that when you find you are doing something that is hard work, expensive, and makes you feel bad….you are doing it wrong.

I don’t decry hard work in the sun, sweating and heaving, with the crack of the overseer’s whip lashing your back. This is how things should be in the retail trade, after all. And there may be a certain amount of whip cracking in the sex business, or so I have been told. But the other two endeavours can be done without pain or sunburn, surely.

Expense attaches itself to everything we do. You can hardly go for a walk in the park without fending off beggars showing you their open sores. As much fun as this is, and you’d be surprised what you can do with a sharpened walking stick, it all adds up to money spent. Trips to the shops are even worse. Stroll through Burlington Arcade as casually as you might, and avert your eye as you will, you find eventually that you are bearing home a diamond bracelet and bang, there’s sixpence gone.

As for feeling bad, this is not as much fun as it used to be. One used to be able to give oneself over to fits of melancholy and either moon about the manse or sit drinking in the study. You could roam the countryside on dark, stormy nights savaging things. Now you are pestered by do-gooders who want to wrest every corpse from your hands and ply you with cups of tea and cheerful memes. God’s Sake, People. Can’t we feel vile without having to feel bad about it.

The answer to all this is to relax the iron grip of ambition and do things for pleasure at a leisurely pace. Do not try to cram avarice, debauchery, and madness all into one afternoon. Take one horrid act at a time – give it several days to play out, and don’t sully the mud with water.

 

Sex And the SIngle Maniac

Enough has already been written about sex and marriage, before, during, instead of, and despite. Also love, which has more variations still – and some of them far less appetising. All these stories have been put out as healthy exercises for normal people – it is nowtime to formulate a workable sex code for maniacs.

The very words ” Sex Maniac ” have gotten a bad name of late, as Hollywood producers and religious figures are hosed off and hauled off to the slammer. In most cases this results in money for lawyers, which suggests that sin is gold that can be hydraulicked off the prominent like gravel off a hillside. I wonder if there are robbers who rifle legal sluice boxes…? And how do the rightful owners of the proceeds of public virtue know when to pull up the cleats and pan the results?

But back to the subject. To be a maniac you must be manic – a word that apparently means wild and frantically busy. As we are always being urged to get busy at work or school and to hurry up with everything we do, it’s hard to see how this suddenly becomes wrong. Perhaps it is the sex part that sours it. Perhaps the critics are really trying to make us slow down…which begs the question why. For their enjoyment…or to let them get a closer look…or to give time for the lawyers to arrive?

Would we do better to substitute other words for “sex” ? Not euphemisms like ” rumpy pumpy” or ” relations ” or any of that verbal footling. No, I mean substitute things like ” tennis” or ” woodworking ” for ” sex “. The thought of a tennis maniac or a woodworking maniac is actually pretty terrifying; one armed with a racket and the other with a set of sharp wood chisels. The poor old sex maniac is just hobbling along with their pants down around their knees while the other two are wading through a crowd striking right and left.

Of course one could always do the clever thing and change the word “maniac ” to “addict “, then call in the therapists and talk-show hosts. Far easier to travel the publicity round and appear in the supermarket tabloids as an addict than a maniac. And as soon as you beat the rap you can go for rest cures in resorts.

Who knows, you might meet someone nice…

” I Love You In A Hundred Ways “

Fine, but count me out of N0. 38, N0. 80, and No. 87. I’m not into that stuff. Plus we just got new sheets.

Business sex is booming…but in many cases with inadequate records. This is a great mistake – no firm can thrive if the outgoings exceed the incomings. Eventually something collapses, and you’ll be left wondering. You may be able to put your finger on it, but for God’s sake wash your hands later.

Sexless business is the norm these days – too many cases of fadoodling have come to light and everyone from the Company President to the Mail Room Perve needs to adopt a professional and dispassionate demeanour. Not only are we not to talk about it, think about it, or write about it, we are wise if we deny all knowledge of the basics of biology. No birds. No bees.

Businessless sex, on the other hand, is generally applauded. From the one-night-stand ( for itinerant watermelon sales at the side of the road ) to all-embracing romance, we are encouraged by popular music, literature, and cinema to steam at the slightest opportunity. I have always found romance a tiresome thing – what with quests and noble ladies’ handkerchiefs and knights in shining armour – it has all seemed a bit of an imposition. I mean, if a damsel is locked in a tower by an ogre, there is generally a good reason for it. Ogres are not stupid and they may know a lot more about the character of the ” innocent ” damsel than we do. Trust the ogre and leave the tower alone.

I think the very safest and most efficient way to deal with the whole thing is to put things out to tender. Lots of places on the human body are tender, after all, and as long as you call for three submissions it should all be good.

Note: I intended to mention double entry here, but a reader has pointed out that it can also refer to a system of book keeping. Business seems to intrude into just everything.

For the record, that’s a cash book in my pocket but I am glad to see you…

 

 

You Can’t Say That!

But I did say it

” But you are not allowed to say that! That is not acceptable! You are not allowed to have those opinions! We forbid it! ”

We? Who is this ” we ” that you write about?

”  Me and all the other the moral people! The people who are caring and sensible and good and right and virtuous! The people who demand that you toe the line and conform to our moral standards and only print our opinion! ”

So no other opinion is permitted?

” No! We are a free country and you are free to think as we do or suffer our displeasure! ”

Do you always speak in exclamation marks?

” Yes! We are never wrong! “

Shopping For A War – Part Four – Sex

Are you in favour of sex?

Do you have one? Do you have several? Are any of them for sale? Do you give receipts?

The topic of sex, however it is raised, is bound to cause attention, ire, and desire to lecture on the part of nearly every reader. From those who refuse to consider the topic to those who refuse to stop talking about it, the entire social site circle is involved.

For the record, I am generally in favour of sex. I have never actually been able to set a record, however, but it is nice reading about those who have. The illustrated accounts are the most interesting…

If you write about THE TOPIC you must choose early whether you are going to be explicit, implicit, or illict. All three approaches work, but if you change you in the middle of a post people become confused. A Tut Tut turning into a Toot Toot never looks good. And please refrain from sending Toot Toot pics through the email system. You never know who isn’t looking.

Most sex readers will respond well to a few salacious words. This was the secret to success for the old British radio show ” I’m Sorry I’ll Read That Again ” when either Kenneth Horne or Kenneth Williams used words like ” nadger ”  and ” gruntfuttock “. They were innocent enough but sounded dirty and that was what we wanted. If you can develop words or phrases that eventually act as salacious triggers you’re well away. Nudge, Nudge, Wink, Wink. Know what I mean? Eh, eh?*

Say no more.

Final note: If you are a woman you can spark delight from other women with any posting that decries or belittles men, and get away with it scot-free. Today’s social media supports this entirely.

What is not realised is that there are places and sites on the internet that reverse this culture of scorn quite effectively and with a good deal of devastating humour…but the outraged and virtuous female social warriors are not granted access…

*  I have no idea what I mean.

 

You Get One Hour And That’s All

No, this isn’t a pay-per-view site with kitten videos…

I am at the computer desk for one hour while a coat of spray varnish dries on a model airplane. I’ve learned that it is dangerous to be in the workshop while paint dries as I eventually touch it to see if it is dry and it isn’t. See? Even perfect characters have flaws…

I think the one-hour rule would be good in many aspects of life. Meals, for instance – if you are going to dawdle for several hours either you are going to eat and drink too much or whatever it is you are pushing round the plate is not worth the time. And timing is everything.

Sex? Well, decide that one for yourself, but consult your partner about the issue. 60 minutes for a 63 -minute person is a bad time to quit.

Reading? Well, you might stretch a bit further if it’s a 19th century French novel with heaving bosoms and creaking bedsprings, but technical journals and political columns can definitely be limited to an hour.

Gardening? Oh, that one could definitely stop at an hour. But one always seems to be in the middle of a rose bush with secaturs – bleeding – doesn’t one? In the end you are not so much pruning as cutting yourself free.

Driving? Yes. Stop the car. Get out and either pee, puke, or purchase petrol. Reset the mechanism.

Television? Set aside an hour a day to watch television. Then don’t. Read a book.

Exercise? If you can sprint on a treadmill or do push-ups for a solid hour – and wish to do this –  there is nothing I can say to you that you can hear.

Hobby work? A fair call. I’m waiting out a coat of varnish so that it can be smoother. if I had a spray room with a door sealing it, I could carry on with some other modelling task while I was waiting.

Photography? An hour in a studio with a glamour model is a short time. With a family of unhappy portrait customers it is an eternity.

 

 

 

Charging For Gratuitous Sex and Violence

We’ve all seen that phrase ” gratuitous violence ”  – or the more titillating version involving sex as well – in the reviews of various motion pictures. I put it to you, members of the jury, that this is a blatant falsehood by the reviewers. There is nothing gratuitous about any aspect of the modern cinema.

From the initial ticket that one purchases at the counter – a matter of some $ 20 upon average, to the large carbonated beverage and tub of popcorn – another $ 20 – to the chocolate coated ice cream – a mere $10 – there is a constant and steady flow of currency from the pocket of the cinema-goer to the proprietors. Presumably some of this money is made to flow on to the actors and actresses who are being violent and sexy at the direction of their studios.

It is all paid for – nothing is free.

The only possible objection that can be made by the viewer – whether they are mere consumers or paid ( again with money ) reviewers is whether there is enough of the behaviour for the price demanded. Too little – a paucity – would surely, under any normal commercial circumstances, draw more ire than a superfluity. One never complains about too much petrol in the tank of the motor car or too much wine in the glass. How can it be a cause for complaint when it is merely shadows on a screen?

The moral aspect of this supply of sensation is not disputed – indeed it does not enter into  discussion, as the person who attends a performance of ” Hot Blood Babes ” – a quadruple X rating and nurses with oxygen cylinders in attendance – has already made a moral decision that cancels all further demonstration. The best they can do is not erupt in public. They should also not erupt in print decrying the thing that they went into a darkened theatre to see.

Should any theatre chain provide free entry for the public as well as free snacks, the question of gratuitous sex and violence can be raised again. In the present state of the industry this appears as likely as a flight of pigs.