More sex please
So my editor calls and cuts to the chase – ‘Your column needs to have more sex.’ I’d expect him to get that us girls have a lot more on our mind than just the pleasures and problems of our punanis. I am about to throw a divalicious tantrum and say I can’t write for you anymore. But I stop, take a moment and breathe (the daily pranayam is obviously not a total waste of the extra 30 minutes of shuteye I’m forgoing). Why am I so darned angry. I realise it’s not just my column that’s under pressure to have more sex.
We are to blame. For years we’ve fought for sexual liberation and equality in bed. As women are prone to, we’ve won that fight. Even in a closet conservative country like India, where orgasm starved aunties with un caressed cleavages used to blush and faint at the mere mention of the ‘s’ word, are buying naughty negligee to spice up their bed. From keeping (or pretending to keep) the hymen intact, we’ve gone to describing the best position for multiple orgasms (pretend or real).
Frankly, I feel less liberated today. A man comes home tired after a heavy day, exhausted, with a trillion thoughts in his head. He wants sex. It’s a quick fix answer to forget about his day and instantly refresh. A woman comes home from an equally draining day and sighs with relief that the worst part of the day is over, as her man gives her a bear hug and kisses her. But then she wants a hot shower, a cup of tea or wine and curl up next to her lover with a book that’s going to extinguish the exhaustion. She may be hot blooded with desires but at that moment the feel of the hand that’s suggestively stroking her, is nothing more than pressure. A big turn off and she may just have to feign a headache!