Sex etc

On 16 March I’m going into hospital. Basically I’m having a camera crew up my bottom to check why the world keeps falling out of it. It did occur to me then to wonder if they could tell, to put it coarsely, if there is any tread left on the tyres of whether it’s like throwing a hosepipe down a hallway.

I am being coarse, gentle reader, I know. Not least because I have a dedication to my pelvic floor verging on the obsessive. But there has been a fair bit of traffic this last couple of years and while it isn’t done to kiss and tell I think I’ve given a good account of myself.

So, a while back I decided that I wanted to have a lot more sex with men, and therefore pretending not to be a massive ‘mo would have to go. And while I’ve had cause to consider my erstwhile relationships a bit of a roller coaster, I’ve never regretted encountering any of the people I’ve chosen to have sex with. Sometimes it’s been fantastic; sometimes… interesting. But worthwhile.

I don’t particularly regret that the first time I had sex with a man it was under the stairs at a party. I’m not sorry that a large proportion of my sex life has consisted of casual fucks. I’m glad I’ve pretty much been super careful and that I’ve gone into any situation informed and when I felt ready to.

The reality is someone somewhere will always have had more sex, better sex, will be considered sexier, be better at seducing guys, whatever… I’ve never wanted to treat sex as a competition. Nevertheless I like sex and enjoy indulging in it frequently; and I’ve let – as a consequence, known if not wilfully sought, of coming out – sex be a big part of my sexuality.

But! I’ve always preferred sex with someone I know, rather than a one-night-stand or casual assignation. I don’t know why – causal sex is great fun and can be a lovely way to pass the time. Nevertheless, it has struck me that a lot of gay men treat causal sex as a way of getting intimate, not just getting off. I myself have always refrained from confusing sex and intimacy – God forbid, love. Come and go, as it were – within the bounds of common good manners. I think that’s why I’ve been fond of group sex in the past, and had a range of friends-with-benefits in one form or another.

Now I’m in a stable, monogamous relationship. The Bad Boyfriend part of me would argue that the average man has sex 165+ times a year; and from experience getting up the average when single takes quite a lot of work. The Good boyfriend part of me argues that it’s worth sacrificing casual sex for a lifetime of making love. All the Cheerful Fairy knows is that Fella is by far the best lover I’ve ever had, and knowing that things will get better and better is no small help in smoothing the bumps on the rocky road of love.

As Dan Savage put it gay men don’t have sex like this because they’re gay; they do it because they’re men (a whorehouse staffed with volunteers is a rather apt phrase he uses). We need a restraining influence to manage sex healthily. No regrets and I’m not yet done swinging from the chandeliers. But that cup of tea would be great round about now. And afterwards, take your clothes off…