Political coherence or sexual decohrence, that is the question

This blog post is about sex. And not in the sense that there will be some jokes and situations which might subtly refer to it. Nope. Sex will be the one and only protagonist of this blog post and the subject will be treated in the most unapologetic way, without ifs and without buts. I’m telling you this, my dear reader, to give you the opportunity to decide whether you want to continue reading or not. If you believe that the topic is a bit too sensitive for you, then it might be a good idea to stop here and move on with the rest of your day. Instead, if an honest and unfiltered discussion about sex excites you, then you’re more than welcome to scroll down and enjoy the read.

There you are! I knew that, sensitive or not, sex was too juicy not to continue reading. Well, shall we then? ;)

Women talk a lot about sex. And when I say a lot, I mean constantly. Sex, just like fluids, takes up all the space you allow it: a coffee break, a phone call on a lazy Friday night, a whole weekend visiting a European city… up to a full-blown two-week vacation on the other side of the world. (I’m sure it’s possible to do more than two weeks, it’s just that I’ve never experienced it myself, so I prefer to stop there).

The main reason why it’s quite easy to talk about sex for lengthy periods of time is that, contrary to common belief, penis size isn’t the only thing that matters to women. Women have in fact a wider approach to the topic, making it much richer and multifaceted than one may expect. A lot of the conversations gravitate towards how we feel about the act of sex, holistically encompassing both body and mind.

That dude held me as if I was an inflatable doll… or at least if I was an inflatable doll this is how I would feel, I guess. I cannot have sex with someone who is thinner than me cause I’d feel like a whale. We had so much sex last night that my legs feel like spaghetti today.

And, from time to time, penis size is also a matter of discussion, let’s not deny it! Did you know that the country with the longest penis on average is Ecuador? That date turned out to be a one-night stand only… his penis was so small that I just didn’t want to deal with it again. I didn’t dare ride him because I was afraid his huge thing would open me up. When he removed his boxers and I looked at his penis, I was so disappointed that I couldn’t not roll up my eyes… and he noticed it, poor guy! The only thing worse than a man with a tiny package is a man with a big package who doesn’t make any effort in bed… just because he knows he has a big package.

Women also share the exotic experiences they’ve had (or didn’t have). When I have sex with circumcised men, I always get the impression that there is something missing. I find black men so ugly that I rather have sex with a woman. I wouldn’t be able to have sex with Asian men, they look so young that I would feel like a pedophile. The first time I had sex with a white man I was so shocked that I told my therapist.

Climaxing is a paramount aspect of sex too and reaching orgasm or not makes a huge difference in the quality of the whole experience. The first thing I thought when I broke up with my ex boyfriend was: how was I going to have multiple orgasms again? Halfway through the intercourse I knew this wasn’t heading anywhere, so I rehearsed the grocery shopping list in my head while looking at the ceiling. I don’t think I can come in a foreign language. I faked the orgasm because he put so much effort in it that I didn’t want to hurt his feelings. When I told my best friend that, when I have sex, I always reach orgasm, she said to me that probably I never had one.

Toys can be a great means to spice up (or spice down) the atmosphere, depending on whom you have sex with. Lately, I’ve been having a sex-friend who doesn’t want to use toys because he feels threatened in his masculinity. Sex with that dude was so boring that I was looking forward to be at home and finally use my toy. I’m looking forward to the last model of the Dyson vacuum-cleaner: once you’re done dusting the floor, you turn it upside down and it becomes a vibrator.

Also, conversations around sex are very useful to keep us up to date on new trends and discover new things. I discovered a grooming brand for vaginas: it has perfumes, anti-wrinkle creams and a brightening serum. Do you know whether leather tangas are breathable? The sales assistant at the sexy shop told me that you shall use geisha balls to strengthen your pelvic muscles and increase pleasure during sex.

What you have enjoyed so far, my dear reader, is the goliardic side of women’s conversations around sex. Those that are purposely fun, bold and entertaining. But that’s not all. There are also conversations which are in fact confessions. These are rare, even amongst close friends, because they require the right mood: an audacious woman “confessing” and the other(s) willing to get serious and give up some fun for a moment. These are the conversations where women get real about sex, their insecurities, and disenchantment.

The first time I really felt at ease having sex it was when I met my husband. I don’t know if I ever had an orgasm in my life, I just cannot tell. Now that I put on weight, it’s hard to get intimate with my boyfriend because I don’t feel comfortable being naked. My husband is the only man I slept with and as much as I love him, sometimes I fear I’m missing out. The sex-friend I’m seeing lately wants to do some BDSM and I’m so uncomfortable with it, but I don’t know how to tell him without looking uncool.

Some other confessions I’ve been involved in were less about how women personally and individually feel and more about the larger picture sex is embedded in. What I’ve been paying attention to lately is that women discuss how they feel about sex while having as a benchmark a specific socio-cultural super-structure.

Dating apps and the whole hookup cultures aren’t for me: I cannot have sex just to have sex, because I fall in love right away and cannot manage my emotions. I know I’m backward, but I cannot have sex with someone unless I’m truly in love with him. I know that’s not that feminist when I say this, but that dude wanted to have sex right after our first date, without even paying for my drink, and I felt it was unfair. One-night stands are supposed to be fun but for me that’s the worst of the worst in terms of pleasure, for I can never climax, and I end up faking each orgasm. I know that’s not kind, but I’m a successful professional and this dude swiping right on me in the app lives with his parents and still doesn’t have a stable career. So how dare he even think that he has a chance with me?

And now it’s the time. If you know my blog enough, my dear reader, you certainly have recognized that this is the moment when the event (in this case, the confession) that unlocks the mental masturbation this post was constructed around is about to get dropped. Ready?

I feel at odds with the way I live my sexuality. I’ve always been on the left and a feminist my whole life. I was always against the stigma that women with a very unrestrained sexual life have. Even in the professional world, competent women shall be taken seriously no matter how licentious their lifestyle is. And yet, I’m not on dating apps, the idea of getting intimate with perfect strangers disgusts me and there is a lot about sex that makes me uncomfortable. For example, the other day, the guy I’m dating was late for our dinner, and he proposed to cancel the plan but that I shall still pass by his home office for a quick fuck. I should have been excited and enjoyed the moment, but instead I was repelled and declined. But there are women out there who would have been up for it, who embrace better the values of sexual freedom that I vote for.

I will spare you from the soothing words I poured onto my friend to make her feel better. For the sake of sticking to the actual topic of this post, I’ll focus instead on the explosion of thoughts I had in parallel and how my brain raced down to the rabbit hole.

I completely understood where my friend was coming from. She wanted to live coherently with her political views and not just cast her vote when requested. Otherwise, we’d end up like those celebrities preaching open borders, but living in mansions protected by tall walls, an entrance gate and a bunch of armed bodyguards. Or advocating for ecology and sustainable behavior at public events where they arrive with their private jets. (Ok, not exactly like the celebrities: just the hypocritical bit, but without the millions).

However, to me what she said had a different flavour, which goes beyond coherence. It reminded me of those members of the Italian Communist Party who, back in the 70s, used to paint their houses red to show loyalty. It was not mandatory, although highly appreciated to demonstrate commitment to the party even in the small (or big) choices of one’s private lives, which ended up being politicised. Just like the colour palette of a whole neighborhood.

And here’s the core of the mental masturbation: is it possible that the politicization of women’s sexuality is the unintended and paradoxical consequence of the feminist battle for sexual freedom?

Sexual freedom means that women’s sexuality shall not be instrumental to achieve something else. Due to obvious biological reasons, women’s sexuality has always been instrumental to procreation, to ensure a lineage of legitimate offsprings. Thus women’s sexuality couldn’t be free, for it needed to be restrained and controlled. According to the common narrative, women’s sexuality has been instrumental to the patriarchy (whatever this terms means). Now that procreation and pregnancy are perfectly manageable subjects, according to this rationale, sexual freedom should be a no-brainer: no woman in her right mind would live her sexuality nowadays is a manner that is not completely unrestrained, licentious and hyper-active. The only last battle to fight seems then to be the eventual judgement and stigma that free women are still affected by. Stigma that feminists, sexual freedom advocates and people on the left just like my friend are still trying to dismantle. For women not engaging in these “free sexual behaviours” must be either victims of judgement themselves, or women on the right and, thus, part of the problem.

But here’s the thing: why does fighting for judgement-free sexual freedom mean to my friend (and to many other women I suppose) that there is an expected canonic behaviour to have in the bedroom too? Or on the desk of the home office. Or in the back of the car. Or on the bench press at the gym. (I don’t need to continue, you understood what I mean). Aren’t the sexual-freedom advocates in the end the women who judge their own sexual life the most? And how has the term “sexual freedom” shifted in its meaning from “I do whatever I’m at ease with” to “I have sex wherever, whenever, with whomever”? If the term “sexual freedom” was to be reverted back to its original meaning, wouldn’t all these advocates be free to finally stop fighting and go back to their lives and jobs? Or are this new definition of “sexual freedom” and its politicisation instrumental to justify the continuous need for advocates who otherwise would be jobless?

As always, mental masturbations are nothing but masturbations and I have no answer to the above questions. But what I know for sure is that I just exploited my girl friends since their most intimate confessions have been instrumental to write this blog post! ;)

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Now I would love to hear from you. No worries, I’m not asking for any personal experience here, but if you have any thoughts to share please leave comment below. Also, don’t forget to subscribe to the Breaking Thirty Newsletter for more juicy blog posts!

Political coherence or sexual decohrence, that is the question

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