Sex, Sleep or Scrabble

by Hammond, Phil

  • Traumatic separation is expensive (financially, psychologically, socially and physically). The divorced or widowed are more likely to get depressed in the aftermath, and also to get cancer, heart disease, diabetes, dementia and mobility problems further down the line. In some marriages, people get so reliant on each other that they don’t cope well alone.

  • Marriages are not automatically happy, but neither is living apart. Rather like cosmetic enhancement, some people go through a lot of separation pain to find themselves even more dissatisfied (and a lot poorer) than when they started. Others relish their new freedom, at least until the money runs out.

  • Marriages tend to last longer if you give each other space and don’t turn over every stone or analyze every issue in tedious detail.

  • Kids tend to do better at school if their parents stick together (unless they’re being tortured).

  • If you’re divorced, you’re less likely to get help and support from your children as you get older, and stepchildren rarely step in.

  • Second marriages fail more frequently than first ones (unless you’ve managed to escape from a disastrous, abusive hell-hole).

  None of this cuts much ice if you can’t stand the sight, sound and smell of your partner anymore. All marriages need the warmth of a slow burn after the towering inferno has fizzled out. They also need a long-term vision, or some shared story of future contentment, particularly if the present is looking a bit grim. But if the present is looking very exciting thanks to the prolonged eye contact of that person over there, it takes a strong will to get out the ‘stand to lose’ checklist.

  The health effects of infidelity haven’t been widely studied, and seem to be very variable. If it goes badly, you end up with guilt and Chlamydia, one of which is far easier to sort than the other. If it goes very badly, you get rumbled and the walls come tumbling down (but can be rebuilt if there’s a will).

  On the plus side, there are people who appear to have very rewarding additional relationships, ranging from discrete ‘fuck buddies’ to those who love two people at the same time. The idea that there is one true love out there for each of us is clearly bollocks – there are loads of people we could have happy and content lives with – but to try to have them all at the same time seems a bit greedy.

  There are lots of proposed causes of (excuses for) infidelity, ranging from selfish genes, poor or absent parenting, sex addiction and – my favourite – ‘a regulatory emotional strategy for people with an avoidant-attachment disorder to release them from commitment phobia.’ But the bottom line is that it’s both a choice and a gamble. And as with all gambling, you should only risk what you’re prepared to lose. Graciously.

  Should I write an infidelity blog?

  Humans are gossips, and if your affair is going swimmingly, you want to boast to someone about how happy/thin/breathless/energized/peachy-skinned/fulfilled/less grumpy with the family it’s making you feel. But you can’t tell anyone you know. Because humans are gossips.

  One solution is to write an infidelity blog. Men generally don’t – they might boast via a brief e-mail or text to their mates (with photo attachment), but few can be arsed to knock off 800 words a day seeking the support and affirmation of strangers. But some women find it very therapeutic. Truewifeconfessions.blogspot.com sounds like the gateway to a porn site, but was founded by a woman called Dawn Rouse to allow women to ‘say the unsayable’. Dawn is responsible for the first twenty confessions including: ‘I know where your belt, glasses and wallet are. I just think it’s funny to watch you run round like a crazy person looking for them’ and ‘Sometimes you only have to make me laugh to change my mood. It is not a strategy you use enough.’

  The last thing these confessions are is ‘unsayable’. Tell the poor bastard where his wallet is and then he’ll reward you with a joke. Even better, make ‘hunt the wallet’ into a mild S&M game full of emotionally invigorating rewards and punishments (preferably involving the belt and spectacles).

  There are a lot of infidelity blogs about, ranging from ‘oh my gawd, I nearly got rumbled when his semen dripped down my leg during the school play’ to cerebral reflection and poetry. A lot are about working through guilt. Most affairs get found out by something trivial: a loose hair, an errant earring, a pocketed receipt, a poorly timed text or a puddle under your seat at the school play. So it’s quite a challenge to have an affair and blog about it every day, while deleting all traces of both. Having your cock and eating it. And not quite so affirming if it’s read out in court. Still, there’s some evidence that writing and reflecting on your life helps you cope with it better. And it’s a lot cheaper than therapy. So put your best non-judgmental hat on and sample the sites below:

  Yummymummyontheedge.blogspot.com

  marriedwifeblog.blogspot.com

  insidetheaffair.blogspot.com

  serialmistress.blogspot.com

  msscarlettletter.blogspot.com

  Is watching porn a type of adultery?

  Ask your partner. Some people are content for their partners to burn off excess energy watching strangers act very badly with no clothes on, others find any fantasy involving other people unacceptable (at least when it’s not secretly hidden inside a brain). And, of course, it depends on the type of porn you’re watching.

  All porn can lead to ‘pornification’ – unrealistic expectations of the anatomy and behaviour of your partner. And if you find yourself whispering sweet nothings like ‘what brings you to California?’, ‘call that a penis?’ or ‘I only popped in to fix the boiler,’ then you probably should cancel your subscription.

  You can’t tell by watching porn who’s performing willingly as a career move, who’s fallen on hard times, who’s desperate for the next fix and who’s desperate to escape. Some sites are hallmarked to ‘guarantee’ everyone’s over-age and giving of their time willingly, but the number of porn participants who end up with a leaky anus or HIV suggests it’s not all fun, fun, fun.

  In my home city, there’s a porn production company that allows you (for a fee) to walk around the set, watch the filming and – for a birthday treat – appear as an extra. It makes a change from a balloon ride, but the view is far less impressive. As Kinglsey Amis observed, any genitals, when viewed sufficiently close, look like the inside of a giraffe’s ear.

  The most instructive and erotic site out there is Beautiful Agony. Based in Melbourne, it shows the faces of dozens of ordinary people coming. Not all in Australian accents. And volunteers film themselves, so there’s none of that ‘what brings you to Wagga Wagga?’ nonsense.

  The camera fixes solely on the face while a vast gallery of men and women sort themselves out. Some are screamingly funny, some just screaming and some very erotic. Some could be faking it, others putting it on for the camera, but there’s little doubt that the face is where all the best action is. All you need is to be naked from the neck up.

  The site is subtitled ‘facettes de la petite mort’, a reference to the near-death experience that the French, and others, have after orgasm. Of course, you can have a real death experience too, and not just from a heart attack. I once saw the comic Jack Dee lose his thread of thought on stage: ‘I hate it when that happens. It’s like when you’re having sex with your wife and you run out of people to fantasise about.’ There was a collective gasp followed by very loud laughter of recognition.

  Does everyone else do it?

  No. Suggestions one partner makes to another to fulfill a life-long fantasy (or after watching porn) are often followed up by the ‘everybody else does it’ line. Everybody else doesn’t do it and, even if they did, all that matters is whether you want to do it. Talk it through. Don’t be afraid to say ‘no’. And if you try it, agree some ground rules and get-out clauses. Slowly, gently, safely, amusingly.

  What’s the difference between a prostitute and a sex worker?

  Nothing, other than the reminder that sex workers should have defined rights, safety and protection like any o
ther workers. In New Zealand, prostitution was decriminalised in 2003, when a reform act gave sex workers legal rights to help keep them (and their clients) safe. Indeed, sex work in NZ sounds as if its been given some thought:

  • You have the right to refuse to have sex with a client for any reason, or for no reason. You can’t be fined for refusing to have sex either. And any person who tries to coerce you into sex commits an offence liable to imprisonment of up to fourteen years.

  • Local councils decide your place of work. Some allow work from home, others have zoned areas for brothels. Up to four sex workers can set up together without a licence, provided no one is boss. As soon as a manager is involved, you need a council licence. You don’t have to register with the police.

  • Managers, clients and sex workers must take all reasonable steps to ensure a condom or dental dam is used for vaginal, anal or oral sex.

  • If you wish to leave sex work at any time, you can get benefit without any penalty imposed for voluntary unemployment.

  • If you’re a manager, client or newspaper publisher, you can be fined or imprisoned if you hire or advertise a sex worker who is under eighteen. It’s also illegal to receive money from a sex worker under the age of eighteen (but not illegal to be a sex worker younger than eighteen).

  Similar laws could be introduced in the UK but we don’t talk about sex, much less about paying for it, so we haven’t got round to decriminalising prostitution or protecting women generally. 200 women a year are murdered in the UK and the rape conviction rate is pitiful. Society should protect the most vulnerable, yet those sex workers who need the protection most (desperate for money, don’t want to do it and driven out onto the street) are least likely to get it. The flip side is that commercial sex workers with their own premises have far more control and offer far safer sex than getting off with someone in a club and having a drunken, condomless fumble.

  Five per cent of men pay for sex each year, and always will (though not necessarily the same five per cent). Women who want to be sex workers need employment rights, women who don’t need protection and opportunity. You don’t get either by criminalising both. And once you’ve taken all the steps you can to ensure sex between adults is consensual, where’s the crime? Why not sign the petition at www.petitiononline.com/swsafety/petition.html? I’m number 1,578.

  SEX IN NO PARTICULAR ORDER

  How many different types of orgasm are there?

  Men tend to classify orgasms according to how much comes out and whether they can hit the ceiling, but the intensity varies too (from a bit disappointing all the way up to those rare Tantric love gods who claim to be able to give themselves multiple orgasms by holding on forever). The pleasure is further diminished by infection – ejaculation may not be painful but if the sensation is just not right, you need a check-up (and especially if there’s a big blob of pus on your pants before you’ve even started).

  Women’s orgasms, on the other hand, have been classified and labelled as you might a rare bird. You start with clitoral and vaginal, and then build up to tenting and A-frame and, if you’re really lucky, blended. Tenting is triggered by clitoral stimulation (TIP: Find it first), which fires electric impulses down the pudendal nerve to the spine, which then builds an orgasmic platform (much faster than your average builder and with no tea breaks). This results in all sorts of reflex muscular activity which is impossible to control.

  The A-frame kicks off in the vaginal G spot (if you have one), and goes via the pelvic nerve. Not only do you get the orgasmic platform and uncontrollable muscles with this one, but the womb joins in too. If you’re really lucky, you get both at roughly the same time (aka the blended orgasm), which I should imagine takes a bit of recovering from.

  These terms are a bit technical and only occasionally used during performance. For example:

  ‘Blend me now, you filthy beast.’

  Or,

  ‘Just putting up the A-frame, dear.’

  ‘Do you need it for tenting?’

  ‘How many times do I have to tell you? The tent goes up over there.’

  What’s most interesting about orgasms is that men and women often get most intensity from doing it themselves, which rather gives the game away that if you want better sex, you need to talk to each other.

  Where do I find the use-by date on a penis?

  A British-made penis should last a lifetime, but it’s worth inspecting it carefully before using it. Sores, blisters, warts, tender testicles, an angry red opening and a discharge that appears with the gentlest of shaft squeezes (and not much pleasure) are all signs that a visit to the clinic should trump penetration. Women are less likely to have visible signs of any infection, so it’s worth booking a double MOT. Sexual health clinics make an ideal first date. The prescriptions are always free, and they’ll throw in some condoms too. And your mother/teacher/GP will never know (unless they happen to be in the clinic at the same time).

  Why vinegar strokes?

  Not sure. Vinegar strokes signal the pre-orgasmal point of no return for men during the sexual act, and they’re accompanied by varied, bizarre, but actually quite touching, facial expressions; the kind you might make if someone gave you a glass of cold cola to quaff on a hot day and it turned out to be malt vinegar. Or maybe you make that face with Coke. Coke strokes. That has a better ring to it. Anyway, it’s only a guess.

  What’s ‘gichigich?’

  It’s a sexual practice enjoyed by the Yap women of the Caroline Islands of the Western Pacific. The woman sits astride the man while he slowly massages her labia with his penis until she reaches orgasm (often more than once, apparently). According to the Complete Dictionary of Sexology, ‘because of the strenuous nature of this form of coitus, it is usually only practised by young couples before marriage.’ Check with your osteopath first.

  Do all women shout ‘Geronimo’ at orgasm?

  Nope. Not heard that one at all. Not even close. Might be helpful if they did, as a lot of men fret about not knowing how much pleasure they’ve given. It’s much easier to tell if a man’s come. There’s usually some end product for you to tactfully avoid swallowing or lying in, or something in the teat of the condom … hopefully. Also men tend to nod off fairly soon afterwards, unless you’re having an affair in which case those trousers will be back on before you can say: ‘Is it in yet?’

  For women, it’s often easier (and kinder) to fake it, especially if things have been dragging on a while, there’s something good on the telly or you’ve got to an exciting part in your book. If your partner’s particularly good at faking it, she probably wants you to live with the delusion that you’re a love god, so why would you want to know otherwise? Besides, fake orgasms take as much (if not more) effort than a real one. Even bad sex can be a good aerobic work-out.

  Some men claim to be able to affirm orgasm status by their partner’s muscle contractions, blotchy rash or change of pulse, but that all sounds a bit clinical to me. If you look into your partner’s eyes, they should reveal the emotions of the moment. And whether she’s got jaundice.

  Another advantage of looking at your partner during sex is that you’re less likely to drift. Marriages, and even lives, have ended because the wrong name has slipped out, and there are very few that allow you to make a smart recovery. ‘Phil … Phil … Fill me up,’ is one. Roger and Dick are others. Justin is likely to start a fight, whichever way you play it.

  What’s the correct response to a fanny fart?

  ‘Bless you.’ If it happens again, either ignore it, deny it (‘I didn’t hear anything. Did you hear anything?’), change position or try ‘Gesundheit.’ ‘Who’s that strange man farting under the bed?’ might be worth a punt, particularly if it turns out to be the case. ‘Owzat!’ tends to get a mixed reception. Fanny farts occur when air gets trapped in the vagina (often via a hearty rear-entry pump action) and it makes a sensational escape. If symptoms persist, you can either stop and laugh it out, or try what communication experts call ‘m
irroring’. Try to match them blow for blow with regular farts. Failing that, a succession of loud and very wet raspberries should cover it.

  Is bacchanalia anything to do with Burt Bacharach?

  No. They don’t even have a common root. Bacchanalia is a euphemism for Roman orgies that kicked off around 200 BC in honour of Bacchus (aka Dionysus) the impish god of wine and revelry. Burt has been around a while, enjoyed a few wives and inspired a lot of cheesy foreplay and revelry with his music. Bacchanalia was brutally suppressed by the Roman government in 185 BC. The only song of Burt’s that should have been nipped in the bud was ‘Wives and Lovers’, the 1963 Jack Jones hit, and only then because of Hal David’s lyrics:

  Hey, little girl, comb your hair, fix your make-up

  Soon he will open the door

  Don’t think because there’s a ring on your finger

  You needn’t try anymore,

  For wives should always be lovers, too

  Run to his arms the moment he comes home to you,

  I’m warning you …

  Day after day, there are girls at the office

  And men will always be men

  Don’t send him off with your hair still in curlers

  You may not see him again …

  Blah, blah, blah …

  Can cosmic energy give me better orgasms?

  Orgasms are largely in the mind, and if you believe cosmic energy might help you hit the spot, then I suppose it could. I’m not aware of any studies comparing cosmic energy with the standard treatment of time, tenderness and a tickly finger. And if you’re thinking of marketing a cosmic energy orgasm box, it’s already been done. The Austrian-American Wilhelm Reich was a well-regarded psychoanalyst and supporter of women’s rights until he went off piste with his ‘orgone box’ – a telephone booth with random bits of electronic paraphernalia, designed to capture and concentrate primordial cosmic energy and focus it on the genitalia (and elsewhere).