I'm just not that into you
I'm going to fess up here,
I'm not exactly big on smacking the pony. I know - I totally look like the kind
of Sassy Susan who is just two or three steps away from dashing off to type a
semi-urgent fax (I made this one up - but, you know...it sort of works).
I'm less Jenna, more Liz Lemon in 30 Rock. Less Angelina
sex-pest-predator, more Jennifer Vanilla-pie-hole.
But here's the thing, if I'm watching TV and there's a
lady-masturbation gag (it happens) I still feel compelled to affect a knowing
snort - as in 'Yeh, yeh I'm SO in on that joke.... in fact, if it weren't for
having company round, you know I'd SO be riding the Hotpoint Horsey Horsey right
Why can't I just be comfortable not being a Spin
Jockey? Why, at the ripe old age of *mumbles* do I still feel the need to
pretend to be someone I am not. Someone who probably thinks more about sex-pleasing
myself (euw) than redecorating or winning the lottery or wondering how
come some women's tummies really do not protrude. At. All.
On a serious note if I, a grown-up-proper mother of two, feel
the need to pretend to be a Jolie sex-kitty-cat to those that I know and trust,
then what kind of pressure has that filtered down to in the rest of my gender?
Fifteen year old girls dressed like sluts bragging
about being horny? Ten year olds wearing t-shirts saying ‘Justin Bieber - Bite Me',
or ‘Harrison Ford - I Still Would'. Okay that second one doesn't exist...at
least hopefully not in a pre-teen
This has been a fascinating week In The Powder Room. We've had posts about sex toys, about doing it on the freeway, about being too bloody busy to faff about with yer fanny (US readers - this is one of our multitudinous euphemisms for Vagina), and more than one writer refusing or threatening not to post on this topic at all.
It seems we can comfortably write about topics as
diverse as gay marriage, rape, death, parenting and pretty much
every other dark and light corner of life. But when it comes to being in touch
with our undercarriages (literally) and our most base desires, it's a hard
place to go.
How you relate to, and how often or how well you practise masturbation screams volumes about who you are it seems.
So now you know. I'm sorry, I can't. Don't hate me.