The moment eternal – just that and no more – / When ecstasy’s utmost we clutch at the core / While cheeks burn, arms open, eyes shut, and lips meet! (Robert Browning)
I came across a letter in a well-known magazine in the US that struck a chord with me. It was from a recently divorced woman who was wondering if, now that she’s dating again, she should be removing all her pubic hair. She writes:
I was married and faithful for 15 years, and last time I was single, nobody ever mentioned shaving that stuff off. So imagine my confusion when my first new sexual partner after a decade and a half showed thinly disguised displeasure at my very short, clean, well-groomed pubic hair. He insinuated that everyone shaves that off now, and my two single, close girlfriends have told me that they remove it all. I have tried this a few times, and it always resulted in lots of ingrown hairs, a red rash and an uncomfortable, itchy grow-back period. That waxing thing sounds too violent for my taste. I really don’t want to feel like I have to shave it all off, but I don’t want to appear like an out-of-touch, hairy freak, either. So, is it true? Does everyone nowadays go bare down there? And what if I don’t want to?
This in another article: CRABS ALMOST WIPED OUT, the headline reads, Thanks to the popularity of bikini waxing . Apparently by removing its natural habitat, yep, that’s right, dear reader, pubic hair. Pubic lice is becoming an endangered species. As pubic hair disappears so are the crab-shaped insects that make their homes in human groins. Now perhaps it’s just me but the question that springs immediately to mind, is not the unhygienic person who used to carry the lice still pretty much unhygienic? They may have tidied up the shrubbery, so to say, but they are still likely to be pretty iffy down there where we are all a little swampy and I think that is more the point. Hair, yes even pubic hair, is a pretty natural thing, we just have to ensure cleanliness. If you maintain a healthy cleaning regime you are unlikely to ever contract crabs unless you are unfortunate enough to have sex with Mr, Mrs or Miss Iffy!
I know! You’re thinking, WTF! The reason I bring this up though is because, firstly, I found it pretty interesting, icky, quirky and a little funny, but interesting nevertheless, but chiefly, because it allows me the opportunity to share a little more about myself with you, dear reader. Now being a male living in South Africa I don’t have a Carrie or a Miranda to share with, so you, dear reader, will be my Miss Bradshaw. In this case, sharing the complexities of the minefield we know as “our sex lives”, ala Sex and the City style, without the fabulous clothes and awesome apartments or amazing clubs and restaurants. So the hair thing, let’s start there. I believe that it is up to the individual woman how she wears it down there, but my personal preference? I like to know I am with a woman and not making love to a prepubescent Barbie doll. In saying that, however, I am certainly not going to kick your ass out of my bed if you are hairless. I am pretty much grateful just to be with you, and ecstatic that you are sharing yourself with me. But, yeah, nothing wrong with a good old power bush.
The oddest thing has happened with me in my relationships: in the area of sex I seem to take on the so-called feminine role. No, nothing kinky or freaky! You know what I’m talking about, the one who needs the romance to be in the mood, the one who gets the headaches, the one who wants to hold you after and talk quietly into the night as the sweat dries on our bodies. The fact is I have always wanted sex to be more than just that, sex. For me it has always been about the intimacy, the sharing rather than the act. I have always been like that. I waited until I was 22 before having sex because I wanted to wait until I was in love. Of course, life happens, and we all have needs and urges, so I have by no means been a saint since, but I do try, I really do try; love, honour and respect. This is probably one of the reasons I do not like bj’s. They just do nothing for me and I feel like it shows no respect for my partner. That’s just me. So I say no when it is offered. Eeeyew, and anal, man, never tried it, never intend to, I really, really don’t get that at all!! Porn? Again, not my thing. Don’t get me wrong, I love to look at a woman’s body, for me the body is the greatest art ever created, and especially the female body. I can find beauty in every curve and hollow, every swell and freckle, every strand of hair and flushed expanse of flesh. I look at it as an artist does, creating pictures and paintings in my mind. But porn? Hell, if you like it go ahead but I don’t get it, its kinda funny in an icky sort of way but more often than not just plain gross if you ask me. Certainly no turn on!
For me the biggest turn-on is pleasuring the woman I love for as long as she and I can hold out. Slow, long and tender foreplay; touching, kissing, licking and stroking her entire body as though she were a canvas upon which I was creating a beautiful image of our shared love. Each touch like it was for the very first time, each kiss lasting an eternity. Breath and moans intermingled in a mist around our heated bodies. And after, holding her as she drifts off to the low rumble of my voice, man, it does not get any better than that.
So yeah, I have pretty strong ideas about sex and how it should be. The fact is, before LA I had not made love to a woman for 4 years and 4 months (and a few weeks). And no, it wasn’t because I did not have the opportunity! I am decent enough looking and women do find me sexually attractive. I just wanted it to mean more, and shallow, meaningless sex leaves me feeling empty and sad. So I chose not to, until LA came along, I can be pretty strong like that. It’s been 7 months now and I have to say I hope it’s not another 4 years before I find love again. I miss the intimacy. I love the kissing; slow, long, hot, deep kisses that take your breath away and make your heart beat so fast and so loud that you can hear it and feel it in your head. Kissing someone in the rain has to be one of the most special and intimate things a couple can share. For me kissing is as intimate and as special as making love. When you are with the right person just touching their hand can stop Time itself.
Anyway, I guess that pretty much covers me and sex. I have no kinks: I don’t do whips and chains or talking dirty and swearing, nor other people joining in, but I love, honour, respect, and I try to make every moment special and intimate and meaningful. Now you’re asking “so why have you never been married or at the very least in more relationships?” You will excuse my language now I am sure, but, fuck me, I haven’t a clue. Perhaps, as I said, there is something fundamentally wrong with me, perhaps I am just too overwhelming as I have been told? But I do not believe that you can love too much, care too much. It just doesn’t make sense to me. How can you care too much? Perhaps I am just not loveable, and that is my bad luck, because I have unfathomable depths of love and joy to give.
So our Carrie moment is up, I hope you enjoyed our little Sex and the City chat. I wish it could have been in New York, at one of those restaurants with a killer cocktail in front of us, perhaps another time. I hope at the very least you take away with you how special that intimacy is, and share that with your love, that amazing person in your life that you get to share yourself with. Don’t take it for granted. Love, honour, respect, and add cherish to that.
The artist’s experience lies so unbelievably close to the sexual, to its pain and its pleasure, that the two phenomena are really just different forms of one and the same longing and bliss. (Rainer Maria Rilke)