Playing the Sexy Part

When did ‘lovemaking’ become the good old-fashioned way of life?

Last week as a friend and I watched the world go by through the window of our favourite café, she said something that got me thinking about sexual liberalism. My friend, by her own admission, is a tigress in bed. She’s a knockout who knows it and is extremely comfortable in her skin, is open to experiments and enjoys sex just as much as any red-blooded woman in her sexual prime would. The only difference between us is that while I largely think of sex as a physical act—a slaking of shared needs—she thinks of it as a bonding experience. While I seek physical release, she looks for intimacy. We can scream ourselves hoarse defending our POVs , but neither of us ever concedes the other’s point. Maybe it was the hot chocolate and the rain that had put us in a mellow mood, but that evening, we were more amenable to listening without spontaneously combusting.

After I had thoroughly scandalised her with my latest drunken “mistake”, as she calls them, she asked me a question I had no answer for: “Is there space for the sexually conservative anymore?” My friend and I live in a world where conversations move seamlessly from cars and gadgets to butt plugs, dildos and lubricants. Few topics are taboo. Which is why her question surprised me. I didn’t think there would ever come a time when conservatism of any kind would feel threatened in this country. But I’m wrong. “Suddenly, it’s as if the only sex worth having is the drunken kind. What’s happened?”

I can only guess what’s happened. I think the problem is that we’re heading towards a world of inverted snobbery. While kinky, nasty, banging-on-the-headboards kind of sex has become increasingly acceptable, aspirational even, lovemaking is turning into a lost art. That thought makes me sad. Because the point of sexual freedom and expression wasn’t to kill the romance of melting in someone’s arms; it was simply supposed to divorce sex from the heavy weight of morality. While I’ve enjoyed mindless sex on more occasions than I can remember, I’ve enjoyed being in love too. I’ve enjoyed holding hands and walking in the rain, slowly undressing him and falling asleep with my head on his chest. Sex isn’t an exotic bird. It’s not always Exhibit A in leather, high heels and lace lingerie. Sometimes it’s emotional and clad in spandex, but that’s not to say it’s any less explosive.

Coming back to my friend, I’m not even sure if conservative is the right adjective for her. Some of her stories make me want to plug my ears. I can’t look at most of her boyfriends in the eye because I know what they got up to last night. So is casual sex the only factor that determines sexual conservatism? Is my friend, who has strutted around the house naked while her boyfriend gawked in admiration, more conservative than our friend with three lovers who never has sex with the lights on?

That night, as I flipped through magazines, websites and midnight TV shows that promised to turn me from doormat to dominatrix in ‘10 simple DIY steps’, I realised that the only voices deemed worthy of being heard were those that didn’t need the microphone anyway. The voice of sexual ‘conservatives’ was actually liberals talking about what they perceived conservatism to be. That’s an unfortunate irony, if I ever saw one. As a child, I was always taught that bullies are people with hidden insecurities. When I see people who sneer at the sexually conservative or cautious, I wonder if mum’s lesson holds true for our sexual images too. Are we brandishing the whip because we want to, or are we playing catch-up with those who we think are better than us? And if that is indeed the case, how can that ever be appealing—sexually or otherwise? In a world where you’re supposed to look, dress and try as hard as possible to feel the part, is it worth the heartache to compare our boudoir diaries and find ourselves lacking—simply because threesomes, orgies and anal sex aren’t up our alleys and will probably never be?

There are things my friend and I will never agree on, she’ll never see sex as a non-emotional physical act and I’ll never see monogamy as a pre-requisite for a relationship, but we’re both liberals. Not because of our sexual preferences, but because we can accept another viewpoint and way of life. Sex isn’t a game of one-upmanship with scorecards, penalties and fouls. And vanilla is a great flavour—between the sheets or at the ice-cream parlour.

About The Author

Sonali K