Here’s a line I hate: Bad sex is better than no sex. Someone offered that one to me as consolation after my 20-minute whine about the cringe-sex fest 2012 turned out to be for me.
Honey, if you think bad sex is better than no sex, then there are two things to consider. On the up side, you’ve not had truly bad sex. On the down side, you’ve not had truly great sex either. (Or you have some kind of sex addiction, but let’s not complicate things.)
If made to choose between an awkward, unsatisfying gropey poke with a Mr Man or a night in with my vibrator, I’ll choose the latter. Hands down. (…my pants. Sorry, couldn’t resist.)
Sex: the bad, the blah and the brilliant
And, holy McShit, did I have bad sex in 2012. It’s like the universe needed to counter all the eye-poppingly awesome BDSM and Tantra sexperiences I was having by making the actual mano-a-mano sex jaw-droppingly bad.
The chapter titled ‘Really real sex’ in last year’s Dear Pillowbook is a sad collection of uncomfortable pauses, mismatched rhythms, penis-crippling anxiety, displays of porn-star peacocking, premature ejaculation and one guy who thought he was Dirk Diggler on speed.
It was a reminder of what bad sex actually feels and looks like and a lesson in self love. It’s not me, it really is you. And don’t let the door hit you on the way out.
So when an early 20-something-year-old friend the other day asked me what good sex is and told me she’d never had bad sex, I wanted to smack her. And then realised she’s probably never actually had the misfortune of enjoying really mind-blowing sex, so then wanted to hug her. It was a confusing time for both of us.
Anyway. While I tried to explain the difference between bad sex, average sex and great sex, I realised it’s much like trying to explain the taste of chocolate – or the difference between Lindt, a Bar-One and a Chomp – the true magnitude of difference is only understood experientially.
And once you’ve had really great sex, it’s difficult not let it colour every average sexual encounter thereafter. Ignorance really is bliss in this case.
‘You never make me scream’
For me it’s been easy. See if I have bad sex (see above) with a potential new partner, I don’t go back more than twice. If the chemistry and body connection is not there, it’s not there. I don’t go back and try, try again to make us fit together sexually. No matter how awesome he is.
In the immortal words of Lily Allen, it’s not fair, but there you have it. I’ll never be one of those people who try, try again and then decide to get married and have babies when they get bored trying.
But, in truth, maybe the reason I don’t stick around is more because I’m also not great at managing bad sex. Here’s what I’ve learnt (the hard way) not to say: ‘You don’t do this sex thing very often do you?’ or ‘That’s what you tell all the girls is it?’…
Don’t say shit like this lady friends, it doesn’t end well. Just take my word for it.
Sigh. Maybe Cupid is punishing me for past slips like this. Well consider payment done Cupid face. 2013 is going to be an awesome-sex year for me.
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