Mr Oh So Wrong...but Oh So Right

I will put my hands up and admit that I am positively useless with the whole relationship lark. I fool myself into thinking that a relationship is what would complete my otherwise brilliant life. But when it comes to it, I find myself running away from Mr.Right and running towards Mr.Wrong but oh so Right. I think my problem is I’m torn between the words of monogamy and monotony as for me, the two actually come together. I see couples embarking on wonderful relationships where they seem content, happy and calm about their marital status. The idea of spending a lot of time with one individual is appealing to them and it is considered a normal feat to remain devoted to one person. I have tried this, I swear. I’ve met completely decent guys who in fact have openly admitted they would be quite happy ‘being with me’ yet as soon as those words leave their sentimental mouths I decide to completely dismantle the entire thing. My heart races, I feel a knot in my stomach and the idea of spending time with them starts to feel like an obligation rather than a pleasant addition to my life. Ultimately I go on to set my sights on somebody who wants the complete opposite of Mr Sentimental. Then, rather ironically, desire what had previously been offered with a commitment-phobic nymph.
After much soul searching (I say much, mostly drunken conversation where I have random epiphanies about my life) I came to a few rather depressing, yet realistic conclusions as to why I have a remarkable inability to form solid relationships.

1) I’m a relationship smoker. I like the kind of man who is basically a cigarette. His very being is like nicotine and the more and more you have of him, the more addictive he becomes. At the same time, he’s terrible for you. He won’t provide the commitment you desire but gives you such highs that for a long time you don’t care. Until metaphorical cancer hits (i.e. another woman/his own boredom) and ultimately kills you...not a pretty picture no, no.
2) I hate the guy who is too nice. Ridiculous I know. Attentiveness at the beginning is fantastic but after a while it starts to wear thin. The bouquets of flowers become another object to fill an already cluttered desk; the good-morning texts become as tiresome as the monotonous bleeping of an alarm clock and suddenly seeing the devoted male starts to feel like an obligation rather than an event to brighten the day. But, that’s just my opinion; I hear some women like all that?
3) I like sex too much. Who would have thought that could actually be a problem? However, my theory lies not in the quantity but rather the hastiness of my actions. Rather than having a strategic waiting time I merely live by a philosophy of: If I want sex this evening, I will bloody well have sex. This doesn’t exactly give off the impression of a wholesome girl and as I have discovered, sets the tone of the entire relationship; a relationship that is entirely based on sex and not personal compatibility...bugger.

I would go on but I feel if I were to berate myself any further I would develop a complex and choose to stay away from men altogether. However, my rather small list does shed light on a thing or two. Basically, I don’t know what I want because the minute something else interests me I’m off quicker than you can say, ‘Time space continuum’. Like most women, I am honestly looking for that knight in shining armour to come along, whisk me off my feet and ride into the sunset on some valiant stead. Unfortunately the closest I have come to this was when I was five; playing Power Rangers and poor Daniel had to save me from the enemy with some sort of masculine gallantry. It could have been romantic but alas the armour was imaginary and the enemy was a teddy bear. Nevertheless, I have faith, honestly, I do. But for now I shall trundle along life in my merry manner fucking up relationship after relationship. Until, finally I come across a bloke who is bold, bright and bolshie enough to make me sit up, pay attention and still make me want cheeky morning sex a few months down the road.

What has sex got to do with it?

Sex. The final frontier. These are the voyages of the Good Ship Lollipop. Its mission; to explore strange new erogenous zones, to seek out new tantalisations, to boldly go where, indeed, no man has gone before.

I must warn you before embarking on such a journey that it takes utmost courage and determination with the realistic grasp of practically imminent failure. It’s a perilous trip, consisting of obstacles, dangerous consequences and ever consuming fear of rejection and malfunction. Indeed, it may evoke some of the most embarrassing moments of one’s life and at the same time some of the most frightening as the realisation that the theory is much different to the practical. Such a trek as this can involve many a fumble, brash, possibly regretful decisions and increases the chance of third parties being able to view one’s buttocks.

It’s incredible; so many potentially frightening encounters is actually the main journey that we all wish to embark on and we fool ourselves into believing that more experience can result in more ability. On the contrary, more experience could actually counter act in causing a person to be so arrogant that they become ignorant to individual needs. Perhaps this one partner doesn’t appreciate a nibble of the nipple nor is it a turn on being ‘warmed up’ like he’s rummaging around for keys. Therefore it could be easily agreed that when it comes to sex there is no right or wrong way but in fact it’s a culmination of haphazard trial and errors with a bit of luck thrown in for kicks.

I won’t sit here and claim that I am the all seeing, all knowing nymph who knows what works for both sexes and has as much knowledge about penises as she does cocktails. Quite the opposite in fact; my understanding of the male of form is mostly based on ‘Sex and the City’ addiction, Cosmopolitan and sexual innuendoes so therefore has given me about the same amount of awareness as I have concerning quantum mechanics. I am apparently, however, unafraid to shed light on past experiences and from listening to stories of others and in the end it all boils down to the question of what sex really has to do with it. And it would seem the answer is: pretty much everything.

Let me cast light on a scenario. You’re a few dates into a potentially fantastic relationship. There is chemistry, an agreement on sense of humour and a general excellent rapport with the person. You’ve kissed, you’ve hugged, shock horror you’ve done both a couple times in public, when suddenly the time arises, the ever looming ‘first time’. Nerves start to take over with a hint of arousal at the prospect and then a pang of worry about performance. There could be fireworks, clothes and orgasms going off with a bang or there could be the fireworks of a more of gentle fizzle variety or worse, the rocket that just failed to launch. With so many high expectations, especially when the social chemistry is there, it’s hard not to feel like the sex should be the act to seal the deal and indeed it can be. Our sexual personas are sometimes different to the ones normally on the service. A domineering character could emerge; perhaps arrogance or even the person who is directive in life is submissive in sex. With that comes along new realisations about the persons themselves and although it makes it seem like the person just came, (excuse the pun) got what they wanted and left, it could purely be coincidental as they didn’t like being slapped in the heat of the moment or perhaps didn’t enjoy being nagged for oral when the main event is up for grabs.

Men and women generally don’t know what each other has to deal with and unfortunately being a woman I’m inept at divulging into all of the traumas that men may face other than the obvious. Erectile dysfunction, inability to unleash the stamina, technique and possibly the same body conscious cognitions women put themselves through. Juxtaposed with the men’s concerns lies women’s thoughts of not wearing matching lingerie, the forgotten leg/bikini wax, the hunt for the perfect orgasm and many other that contribute to the odd pang of awkwardness that can derive from having sex. Luckily however the way that we’re all on par is in the sense that neither gender has any idea what is running through the other’s mind, unless they are that incredibly vocal type which can sometimes be awkward for anybody sleeping in the next room.

However, whilst we are plagued with minor worries we also decide to spice up the anxiety with demands or polite requests. The masculine goal of obtaining the blow job is a particular figment in such a scenario. Guy wants head, girl doesn’t want to give head due to many uncomfortable results that giving head can cause. In return guy chooses not to go down on the girl or simply does it in the vain hope of reciprocation which sometimes is an unlikely result. The concept of oral sex is a difficult one to debate. It feels fantastic yet sometimes doing the deed only has its pleasures in hearing the appreciation so to speak. Otherwise it’s your mouth, around gentiles, the same mouth which then continues to be kissed straight afterwards. The rules of hygiene appear to the banished all in the name of pleasure yet should the oral sex not occur there is a tension looming around the bedroom, the shocking thought that during your session you haven’t done ‘everything’ and are therefore not fully satisfied. Forget copulating in so many positions it would make Kama Sutra look like a beginner’s sex manual; if the oral isn’t on the menu there is a void that hovers, pining to be filled. Yet whilst that may be the case I would like to enlighten you with a quotation from my gospel, Sex and the City:

“You men have no idea what we're dealing with down there. Teeth placement, and jaw stress, and suction, and gag reflex, and all the while bobbing up and down, moaning and trying to breathe through our noses. Easy? Honey, they don't call it a job for nothin” (Samantha Jones: Sex and the City: Easy Come, Easy Go, Season 3, Episode 9)

As you can see, many a complication and many a thing to consider and had this not been communicated then there would be looming ignorance as well as looming desire about the blow job. In addition, it would seem that if communication is not around, we’re basically bumbling oafs, attempting to figure things out unaware that there could be simplistic solutions to achieving the unrealistic, perfect sex that we all see in movies. That said we all appear to idolise the sex in movies. Constantly passionate, has orgasm success of 100% and a body that looks like it was sculpted by angels. However, let’s all consider a few things. There’s a director, ability to stop and start without awkwardness and if there is a cringe-worthy creek in the bed at every thrust of the hips, the springs can be replaced mid fornication. Do we have such luxuries in life? I rest my case.