Addicted to Facebook?

If I was to ask myself this question, I’m pretty sure the answer would be “yes”.

Or am I just, simply, bored and using FB as a pastime?

If I’m addicted, what am I addicted to?

The updates?
Hardly. I have perhaps 60 people on my FB and most of the time I just feel like I’m intruding on people’s lives by reading everything they post. On one hand I don’t want to miss out, but on another hand I simply don’t give a shit about 95% of the stuff that’s going on in my timeline. Most of my time I spent clicking onto links posted by George Takei and taking it further into cyberspace from there. The net result is that I sit on my arse for most of the evening, scrolling through shit and caching up with people on messages.

Which brings me to…

The people?
I wouldn’t say “addicted to”, but I have a handful of people that I like to keep in touch with, usually, on a daily basis. Perhaps 4 or 5, at most. I remember having a bunch of people on the old MSN messenger. This app would just run in the background while I did other stuff. If I wanted to know anything about people’s lives, I’d… you know… ask. Those were the days…?

So what now?
I’ve just now downloaded an app that allows me to access my messenger contacts without actually being on FB itself. (It’s called Digsby, if anyone’s interested.) So from now on I’m going to attempt staying off FB. There, I said it. I’m going to stay off… Facebook.

I’ll document, sincerely, how many times I crack on a daily basis and how (if at all) life feels different without it. It may not affect my online (or offline) life at all – but I suspect it might.

Wish me luck ;)

So I watched “Fifty Shades of Grey”…

fiftyI’d like to point out that I didn’t go to the cinema to watch it, I found it online in a moment of boredom.

Now, I remember when I read the first, what, 150 pages of the book on a train. The first chunk reminded me of stuff I used to read when I was 14 where the girl was innocent and the boy was hot and persuasive. There’d be kissing and eventually something that resembled sex.

Now, to the film. There will be spoilers.

I can’t get away from the fact that the dialogue in the film is as atrocious as it is in the book. I’m also quite amused by the actor playing Christian Grey, cause I find him about as hot as a glacier. Neither of the actors can really be blamed, as they’ve only got what they’ve got to work with, but the overall acting and delivering of (the crappy) lines was overall faaaaaaairly wooden.

Initial Impression

As I was saying, in the beginning it’s kind of… teenage romance sweet. She’s beyond untouched and he’s (supposed to be) a hot, charming, rich, successful, experienced blah blah guy. I didn’t even think much of it when he showed up at her work place in another state at first. Or that he picked her up when she was drunk and put her in his bed, rather than converse with the room mate to find her address and get her home. Instead, he sends his brother to get off with the room mate so that she won’t think anything of her friend getting taken away by a stranger. When Ana says “nice knowing you”, he breaks into her flat to convince her to stay. But he did bring wine so that makes it OK, right? Oh, and he sells her car without her permission.

Then there’s the infamous, “Are you going to make love to me now?” / “I don’t make love. I fuck. Hard!” exchange (that actually made me laugh), before he actually does something that resembles “love making” and then sleeps in the same bed as her. That’s something he’s only done twice in his life, btw, and both times were with her (first was when she was unconsciously drunk). Obviously, this makes her feel special. She’s already seen the red room of torture by now, and is trying to figure out whether she wants to be a part of it or not. Then his mother shows up. That’s the adoptive mother, mind, not the crack whore who died when he was four.

Hold on a minute…

If none of the other signs so far have cried “mentally unstable man”, then the meeting with his adoptive parents is a wake-up-call. She says she’s going to Georgia to see her mother. He loses his shit and takes her into the garden. She asks if he’s pissed off. He confirms and wants to know why she didn’t tell him. She says she’s allowed to make her own decisions, which makes him raise his hand to slap her. He controls himself, then says, “You’re mine, all mine, do you understand?!” Wow. Really?

Then he shows up – in yet another state – when she meets her mother. Unannounced. Stalking, much? Obsessive, much?

It all explodes in a final scene where she’s pissed off that he’s being distant and he’s pissed off cause she’s a normal human being. He says he has a darkness inside of him and that makes him want to punish her. Or something to that effect. She asks if he wants to punish her then and there. Again, he confirms. She says he should show her how bad it could get. So he strips her, bends her over a table and demands her to count the lashes he serves her with a thick leather belt.

…am I being groomed?

It didn’t take long for me to realise that both she – and I – were being groomed by this “charming man” throughout the film. At times he manages to be… sweet. And he’s worried about her, right, so he makes sure she’s looked after and makes all her decisions for her, buys her a computer so he can be in touch with her all the time, he sells her car and replaces it with a new one without her knowledge, he shows up unannounced because he just can’t stay away from her, he’s breaking his own rules because she’s all he wants, he says he’s becoming a changed man – all because of her.

To be completely honest, by the end of the film I felt uncomfortable. Not because it’s about sex – because it’s not, really. What I don’t understand is how this has been branded as BDSM, when in reality it’s plain abuse – masked as BDSM. He doesn’t beat her because it turns him on, he beats her because of “the darkness inside” and – to quote him – because he’s “fifty shades of fucked up”. I’m preeeetty sure the basis for a healthy BDSM relationship is trust, mutual consent, mutual pleasure and levelheadedness. This guy is one step away from being locked up. He’s only really still wandering around because he’s able to fool people into thinking he’s Mr Cool – when in reality he’s pretty much a mentally disturbed abuser who could be given at least a handful of diagnoses.

Wrong genre, surely…?

If this film had a different, darker background music, was branded “thriller” and ended with him getting a bullet between his eyes, it would have made more sense. It reminds me a little of “The Resident” where Jeffrey Dean Morgan plays a mentally disturbed fella who’s obsessed with his tenant, Hilary Swank. He and Christian Grey are very much alike in the way their minds work – but the difference is that “The Resident” is an honest thriller with a very different ending.

Instead, “Fifty Shades…” came out on Valentine’s Day. The day we’re supposed to celebrate romance.

What worries me a little is that teenagers will watch “Fifty Shades of Grey” and think this is acceptable behaviour from a man. The author has already said in interviews she gets emails from girls who thank her for sexually liberating them. Don’t get me wrong, being sexually liberated is all good and well, but not when it comes with a partner who beats them because he can’t control himself. That’s not BDSM. That’s plain abuse.

New Year’s Resolution: Understanding men

Actually, it’s more a case of: “Accept what you cannot change” – in this case, that men don’t think and communicate like women.

I’ve spent a fair amount of my waking (and sleeping) hours being frustrated with men who don’t communicate in the way I wish they would. I’m fairly certain this is something most women have done – or do on a fairly regular basis.

A few regulars:
– “Why doesn’t he just admit that he loves me?”
– “Why doesn’t he just get it?”
– “Why didn’t he realise that what he said was hurtful to me?”
– “Why is he being so insensitive?”
– “I think I understand what he meant, because it can’t have been what he actually said”
– “Why doesn’t he wants to talk about it?”
– “Why does he roll his eyes when I mention something he did a year ago that upset me?”

So, do you recognise some of these, ladies? I’m sure I could add to the list, endlessly.

Someone once said, “Pay attention to what he does, not what he says.”
Not all men are comfortable discussing how they feel. Even when they’ve had a bad day, some of them just want to take some time out by themselves, playing a game etc. Women tend to want to talk about it, and we tend to take it personally when they don’t want to share what’s going on in their heads. The next step is that it’s clearly got something to do with us, otherwise… why wouldn’t he want to talk about it with us? Because he’s not one of our girlfriends who come crying on our doorstep to talk about her feelings. In my experience, it’s best to just give him the time he needs and listen if he wants to give you a summary of what he’s been thinking. Don’t expect him to include you in the process. Some might, I’m not saying men don’t communicate feelings at all, but he also might not. And it’s got nothing to do with you.

In the same category as not being comfortable discussing how he feels, comes the “he never says he loves me” complaint. This isn’t something that comes natural to all men (or women, for that matter). We’re not all verbal beings, comfortable throwing the L-word out there on a daily basis or in every text message. This is where “pay attention to what he does” comes in. Does he take care of you? Does he help out when you’re struggling? Does he volunteer to do the dishes? Does he blow off a boys night out to be with you? Does he agree to go see a romantic comedy with you although you know he’d rather go see a movie with fast cars, blazing guns and hot chicks? Does he make an effort to get along with your mother? Does he bring you along to meet his friends? Are you invited to game night or beers with the guys? In short: Does he include you in his life and take an active interest in yours? Then it’s fair to assume that he cares about you even if he’s not verbal about it.

Men are visual beings
They’re going to look at other women. Women with ridiculously huge breasts on display. Women with half their arse hanging out of a mini-skirt that’s hardly wide enough to be a belt. Cleavages, legs, arses, bikini models, women that make you roll your eyes because you really can’t believe how blatantly obvious it is they’re dressing/acting the way they do to get men’s attention – and that it works, every time. My advise? Let him look. Even better: Agree with him. Acknowledge that Kate Upton is hot. That you wouldn’t kick Kelly Brooks out of bed. Believe me, it sounds a whole lot better than, “That skank? Really? REALLY?” or “You’re such a basic model, they’re so OBVIOUS!” Yeah, shit, imagine that. Obvious attractiveness is the worst… Bottom line is: Just because he’s looking doesn’t mean he wishes you looked like her, or that he’s going to jump into bed with her. Especially not if you give him something else to think about: you and her in hot embrace.

Also, ladies, if we’re being honest…
We look too. Who hasn’t watched Hugh Jackman as Wolverine and thought, “Nail me against that wall, big boy!” or sighed audibly at the sight of Johnny Depp? Why should he be different? Just because he likes what he sees it doesn’t mean it’s an insult to you because you don’t look like that.

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Truth being told…
Another thing I’ve learned about men is that if you say “just tell me the truth”, he’ll take that as an opportunity to, well, tell you the truth. This may not always be the truth you want to hear (“does my backside look big in this?” etc) but if you’re more comfortable thinking that he’s probably thinking what you’re thinking, then don’t ask. Of course, he may actually say what you want him to say, but don’t attack him if you don’t get the answer you wanted. If you ask his opinion, be prepared to get it. Don’t ask, “You think she’s hot, don’t you?” if you’re not at least prepared for the answer to be “well, yes”. That still doesn’t mean he’s going to fuck her.

Compliments
Yes, those. We’ve all had the “hey, sexy” comment thrown at us from a guy on the street at one time or another. Or a comment online along the same lines. It’s basic, but it’s a spontaneous reaction to a visual. A man once said to me that I have “a sizable arse”. I had to take a moment before I responded, because to be told straight out that you have a big butt isn’t necessarily what you want to hear. However, I knew that – coming from him – it was a big compliment. Why? Because he was into large, shapely women. I could have very easily have taken it as an insult, but chose not to because of who it came from. In the same breath as “men are visual beings”, it’s worth mentioning that men will sometimes give shallow compliments based on just that. If someone you’ve just slept with says you have “epic tits”, take it for what it is: he likes your breasts. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t like other things about you, but that he particularly likes that part of you at that moment.

Surely you’ve found yourself saying “you’ve got such a big, beautiful cock”? No? Well, if you haven’t, try it. You won’t ever experience a man complaining about that – even though it’s shallow. ;)

Talking about problems
When it comes to talking about something that bothers you, it’s worth keeping in mind that he’s not like your lady friends. If you come to him with a problem, he’s not going to want to sit and listen to you and just offer tea and sympathy – he’s going to come up with a solution to your problem, because that’s what he does. He wants to solve your problem so that you can feel better about it, because to him talking about it isn’t really his idea of helping. If you just want to vent, say you want to vent. Or better still, talk to one of your girlfriends about it. Then come to him when you’re ready to hear six possible solutions to your problem.

Summed up
I may never understand exactly how men “work” but what I do understand is that not all battles are worth fighting. I’m not saying this as an insult to men, but I don’t think they’re as complicated as women tend to think they are. If he says something, there’s a chance he means it even though it’s not what you wanted him to say. If he’s not forthcoming about his feelings, it doesn’t mean he doesn’t have them. It just means he’s a man and that he works slightly differently than you do. And that’s OK.

Are women as unreasonable as men claim?

I’ve known a few men in my time who always tend to complain about how “difficult” their girlfriends are. These are the same men who tend to behave like, if you’ll pardon the expression, cunts. I think, by default, most women are quite reasonable.It’s when they’re subjected to male moronic, disrespectful behaviour that they become unreasonable.

That, or if they have a history of dating such men/been cheated on.

For instance, speaking for myself, I’m very easy going under the right circumstances. The right circumstances being: if I know the man puts me first, and isn’t in doubt who he wants to be with, I don’t care much how he interacts with other women. Flirting, whatever. I can deal with that as long as it’s just for effect and he doesn’t have a history of fucking anything with tits and a pulse that smiles at him.

However, if he does have a history of dangerous flirting that tends to end up in the bedroom, or if he shamelessly flirts with others in front of me to get some sort of reaction (or to feel like a big man, having two women fighting for his attention), I’m not as easy going.

Is that really so unreasonable? Is it really too much to ask that your significant other doesn’t behave like an attention-seeking 14-year-old or doesn’t fuck other women? If that IS too tall an order, then I’d suggest that the man in question should stay single.

In other words, if you want your girlfriend to be a neurotic, jealous bitch – act in a way to make her doubt you. Easy. If you want her to be chilled about your male behaviour around other women, make sure she knows she’s the one you actually want.

An happy wife is a happy life. Just sayin’.

Publishing erotica in the aftermath of “Fifty Shades”

Back in 2011 I started writing a novel that was highly focused around sex. Some time during 2012 I finished what was a first draft – and suddenly this “Fifty Shades of Grey” series exploded into the mainstream. To begin with I was fascinated, if not a little irritated that someone had got there before me. I picked up a copy and started reading. Fascination gone.

Not only did I – quickly summed up – think it was a piece of sh*t, I instantly decided to not publish my own novel on the same-ish topic in pure fear. Why? The nightmare of potentially being compared to it.

Now that the interest surrounding the books have faded somewhat, and I’ve only got the movie(!) to consider, I’m re-considering my “not ever” notion. In many ways it was good that I didn’t publish in 2012, because although I thought it was done it clearly wasn’t. At first I ended it in Berlin. Then I ended it in New York. Now I’ve ended it about 100 pages later in London.

It’s called “A Masochism Tango” – like this blog – but it’s not about an S/M relationship in the physical sense. Sure, he’s dominant but not that way. Mostly. I’ll leave that to the sequel ;) I’d like to think that my characters have some depth and that the sex described is a little more enticing than Barbie and Ken humping each other (ref: Fifty Shades).

However, I could be wrong. I’m sure EL James thought her Twilight-inspired characters were both fascinating and hot, and that the sex was described in a superbly enticing way – cause it she didn’t, would she have published it in the first place?

So, here I offer you a chapter and welcome your scrutiny. Be brutal.

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Henpecked men

Don’t get me wrong, there are women who dodge conflicts like the plague as well – but in my experience, it’s more common with men.

Women, overall, like to talk about things. I know plenty of men whose hearts sink (or stop) every time their girlfriend/wife says the dreaded words, “We need to talk.” So rather than having any uncomfortable talks, they turn into “yes, dear!” men and think that a happy wife is a happy life. That as long as he agrees with her, at all times, and ignores any uncomfortable topics, there’s no need for those talks.

It’s all good and well to go through life without confrontations, but when two people try to co-exist, it’s inevitable that it happens every now and then. I’m with a man who’s not an avoider of conflict, but he’s terribly patient and it takes a lot for him to put me in my place. But he does it. This, believe me, is a good thing.

I know two other men that I could never be romantically involved with because I would, quite literally, eat them alive. I’m sure their significant others will say, “Oh, he’s so easy to live with, we never fight.” Sure. He doesn’t disagree with anything you want, he doesn’t confront you with anything, he lets you get away with murder, he lets you talk to him like a child, he agrees to sit through re-runs of “Sex & the City”, “Friends” and “Lipstick Jungle” on a Friday night without complaining – even though he’s the type of man who’d rather watch a stalk-and-slash, something involving fast cars or (if he was being totally honest) a good, hardcore porn film. He’ll go to flower shows on his day off instead of meeting the boys for beer and football, he’ll go see the new Meg Ryan movie with you even though he’d much rather see the latest “Fast and the Furious” – oh, and he’ll say, “That’s OK, dear, sex isn’t really all it’s cracked up to be, I’m happy just holding your hand” when you announce you’re happy to have it once or twice a year.

By all means, have patience and compromise now and then – but to do everything she says just to avoid a discussion isn’t sexy. There is a word to describe men like this: Henpecked. Or as I like to call them: Pussies.

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The word henpecked originates from nature: A mother hen recognises a particularly weak chick among her young, pecks at it to prompt it to show signs of survival instincts and this continues until the chick is either compliant or dead. Whichever comes first.

On ifeng.com, A Chinese website (ifeng.com) asked the question, “Are you henpecked?” and 50.3% of the male participants said “Yes” while only 17.3% said “No”. When asked “Why?” to the ones saying “Yes”, the most common answer was, “Because I love my wife and I don’t want to make her angry.” Oh, that’s hot. I mean, really… I can hardly control my urge to have a pussy-whipped, henpecked man…

These men clearly think that in order to have a happy life they have to keep their wives happy. This is a good thing, by all means, but are relationships really happier and less problematic when the wife takes all the major decisions? Should one marry a man who’s “happy” to surrender to his wife’s every demand rather than a man who doesn’t listen? Is this man actually happy? Does he actually listen? 

Or does he just say “yes, dear” on default while fantasising about a life that doesn’t so closely resemble hell where he’s with a woman who’ll let him be a man?

Only big women = real women?

This image ended up in my mailbox the other day:

unico

So here you have a slim, elegant unicorn that’s branded as “unsexy” and a big, fat rhino who’s branded as “sexy” because it has “real curves”. You don’t have to be Einstein to understand what this is really about. That’s right: Women’s bodies. Again.

If I’m being perfectly honest, I’m getting just a little bit tired of this implication that in order for a woman to be “real” she has to be a size XXL. Really? What decides whether or not a woman is real or not is her ability to cultivate cellulite and fat on her ass? Funny, cause I thought it was down to certain biological differences from a man, like having a uterus and stuff like that… To me, it’s a bit like saying a man isn’t a man unless he’s got an 8 inch cock and has the body of Hercules.

I pray, tell, at what point does a woman go from “real” to “unreal”? At 180 pounds? 140 pounds? 100 pounds?

What I’m struggling to understand is why it’s OK to body-shame thin/slim people but not OK to body-shame fat people. There are women who are naturally thin, no matter what they eat, and they can’t get an ass like Kim Kardashian no matter how hard they try. Just as there are women who are naturally large, with a big frame, who’d never look like Kate Moss. And both are OK. Some men are short and slim too, and unable to do much about it. Just as some men are build like mountains and will never look like Brad Pitt.

What Is the Big Deal??

I’d like to think that most people, when choosing a partner to spend their lives with, aren’t that worried about body shape. Sure, first we lust with our eyes – but then we love with our hearts. What may not be immediately appealing on the outside becomes appealing once you get to know the person on the inside. I’ve had the most enormous crushes on people I wasn’t immediately attracted to, until I got to know them.

I think that if you’re open-minded enough to let people surprise you, rather than choose a partner solely based on their looks and shape, you’d have a much better time of it than if you just disregard someone out of hand because they’re… unreal. Connecting with someone mentally is a much greater, and lasting, way to lust for someone. Everything else is just a bonus.

Bottom line: Body-shaming goes both ways. Worth remembering.

Big Men = Basic Instinct

In real life I’m not into men with hysterically huge Marvel Comics muscles. The body builder look doesn’t actually appeal to me much. Perhaps as it probably means he spends more time in front of a mirror, at the gym or weighing his chicken and rice than he’ll ever spend with me.

However…

In the right setting, something in my head says *click* and I’m driven by basic instincts. It’s like the rational part of my brain goes to sleep and what’s left is the Neanderthal that wants to get beaten over the head and dragged into a cave by her hair. It’s bizarre.

Some examples:

Commando – Schwarzenegger
commando

I was about ten or so when I saw this movie with my dad. I don’t remember what I said, but I do remember my jaw dropping from the sight of him coming down the hill with a tree on one shoulder and a chainsaw in the other hand. I also remember my father saying, “So is this the kind of guy we can expect as a future son-in-law?” to my mother who’d obviously heard what I’d said and wanted to see for herself. This was obviously before I started going “woah!” in a sexual sense, but the basic reaction was still there.

Superman – Reeve
superman

I saw the Superman movies even earlier than I saw the above. Big, beautiful man – insecure and vulnerable, but in reality he was hard as fuck. Literally. I watched the first one again and again and again. Tall, dark and handsome indeed. Oh, and big.

Lord of the Rings – Mortensen
aragorn

I remember seeing this with my ex, a friend and her boyfriend. The boys wanted to see the first Lord of the Rings film and we tagged along. We were put on the front row, cause it was the only available seats. She and I rolled our eyes at what we had to endure to keep the boys happy, but as soon as Aragorn appeared on the screen we both looked at each other and went “woah!” The dirtier and hairier he got, the hotter he got. He’s not ridiculously huge, but still falls under the hot under the right circumstances category.

Van Helsing – Jackman
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Crap film. I went to see this with a straight male friend and we were both unimpressed. Then came the moment where Van Helsing changes into a werewolf. He rips his top off, flexes all muscles, growls to the moonlight… you get the idea. I was virtually paralysed but my transfixed state was interrupted by my (still straight) pal sighing loudly in either admiration or adoration. He was gawking. He still denies that he did.

Wolverine – Jackman
wolverine

I watched the X-men films. Wolverine was nice and impressive and all that – but it wasn’t until the first Wolverine film came that it really hit me. I watched it twice. What was it about? I don’t know. What do you remember? Hugh Jackman running across a field naked. Was it good? Oh, yeah. Was that the one where he got his iron skeleton/claws and flexed every muscle in his body as he transformed? Or was that the second one? Who gives a shit? When he started the little romance with the Asian chick in the second one, I was deadly disappointed when we got to see a kiss and then they woke up the next morning on the floor. Oh, yes, nail me against that wall, Wolfie!

Hercules – Johnson
hercules

Now this is serious Marvel Comic Muscle Dude In Real Life. 6’5, big as a friggin’ house and didn’t skip leg day (I’m looking at you, Jackman!). I watched the film and found myself thinking, “Jesus, he’s huge…” a lot throughout the film but didn’t have that basic instinct reaction I was half-expecting. Then came the last 20 minutes. Hel…lo! He was dirty, sweaty, pissed off, chained up, oozing of testosterone… I’m not going to give away the ending but let’s just say that he’s only wearing a loincloth and does quite a bit of flexing of those – if you’ll pardon my French for a moment here – fucking impressive muscles. By the end I swept myself up off the floor and went home.

Then a friend asked me to see it again, someone who’s even less into this look than I am, and I found myself agreeing for a laugh. We chatted afterwards and I made a comment about his facial hair. Her comment? “He had a beard?” Or in other words, “I was too busy staring at his body to notice he also had a head attached.”

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So what is it about?
I call it basic instinct. Big man makes woman feel small, feminine and vulnerable – but also protected. For me, it works as a fantasy. In reality, I have no need for a man who’s 7ft tall and looks like a demigod. I suspect it’s the same with men and hot women in strip clubs. It works really well as a visual, but when it boils down to it I (personally) don’t think men overall are as picky and shallow as all that. But as a visual, and as a fantasy, yes please. I guess men and women aren’t all that different after all.

As my mother used to say: “There’s nothing wrong with a nice view!”

Pussy-whippped men

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I’ve met quite a number of men that I’d call pussy-whipped.

You know the kind. He has to look at his wife before he answers a question, is a big fan of “yes, dear” and permanently keeps his balls in his wife’s purse and his dick in a Mason jar under the kitchen sink. Some men have always been, say, prone to agree with his other half in order to keep things calm.

A happy wife is a happy life, etc.

Others, however, take months or (normally) years to finally give up and hand his tackle in, never to be returned. On average, this man was probably above the norm interested in sex and had it a lot – then he met her and after a relatively short while, the sex stops. Be it because of kids or because she feels she’s “done her bit”… it’s irrelevant. It happens. No sex. Or twice a year, for Christmas and birthdays, for good measure. Most men, let’s face it, won’t be satisfied with that.

It’s this category that saddens me the most.

I once was in a situation where a man that belongs to this category, that was so into sex that he was almost certain it was a bit of an addiction, said, “I wouldn’t say sex is important, really.” He’d told me before that the missus wasn’t really “into that” (read: sex) and that it had always been a big problem for him. He wanted it, she didn’t, he got frustrated and started lusting after other women. Of course. I asked him on various occasions, “If this is how it’s going to be for the rest of your life, would you be OK with that?” and the answer was always, “Of course not!” So when I heard him say that sex isn’t really important anymore, I swear I stopped breathing for about a minute before I delivered a speech that included words like, “bullshit”, “sex addict”, “lust lobotomy”, “chemical castration”, “coping mechanism” and another “bollocks”.

He had nothing to add.

It took her years, but in the end he seemed to just give up and resign his dick to said jar under the sink and his testosterone levels firmly hidden away in his woman’s make-up bag – and instead of being dominant he became submissive. “Yes, dear.” I’m still looking for my jaw. For him to say, “I wouldn’t say sex is important, really” is akin to the Pope saying, “I don’t believe in God, really.” It was like his will to fight had finally died. After years of frustration, he’d admitted defeat and was ready to enter into life as a monk with a live-in nun by his side.

On one hand I found it terribly sad, for him.

On the other hand I found it the most incredible turn-off.

Seriously, guys, if you’re not fucking you’re just two people living in the same house, sharing the electricity bill. Do you seriously think there’s nothing more to life than that? Really? Let me ask you this: Do you have a penis? Well, if you still do, reach down and find your balls – because nobody finds a pussy-whipped eunuch a turn-on.

Nobody.