May 30, 2011

ELIZABETH ROSE

“There are some things so serious you have to laugh at them” – Niels Bohr

Embarrassing stories from the boudoir…

Those hideous moments when your toes curl and your stomach sinks to join them. You lay there wishing  the bed sheets would swallow you whole, because it seems so serious at the time. But it’s always a good tale to have a laugh at in retrospect – after many glasses of wine – when it just seems so funny.

What’s more the strange pattern I’ve noticed is that these awkward episodes seem to run in evolving themes throughout one’s lifetime. What horrified us as teenagers, no longer concerns us as 30 or 40 somethings.

For those of you who got frisky in your late teens or very early twenties (or early teens if you are from Northern England or my old boarding school) then it’s likely that back then bodily functions topped your embarrassment chart. All those squelching noises and even (dare I say it) fanny farts – just mortifying. Then after a few red faces, and moments of utter shame – one day you laugh about it, because it suddenly all seems so very human.

Then for quite a few of us our early 20s were a heady blur of many faces and man parts. Suddenly the worst shame came from forgetting which name matched which male member. Did he say Paul or Saul?…Is this guy’s name Steve or was that the name his blond friend? A brief case in point before I go on…

As a young 20 something keeping names and penises straight was never a huge concern for me; as I was happy to shout “oooh Baby” or “Oh God” and often just “YES YES YES”. Unfortunately, there was a particular American on an exchange term at my University who was rather direct. He was a lovely hunk of all American beef, from some mid West money. I was putting in a particularly patriotic performance back at my halls of residence (a.k.a. dorm room) and as always a little conscious of the lack of sound proofing available in a 16^th Century building. As we switched positions into doggy style, he began slapping my ass (I like a spanking, but the sound of hand hitting flesh reverberated off the walls upping my paranoia of being overheard exponentially), and then he made a request I wasn’t keen to meet.

“Say my name.”

In this instance, I knew his name – but really?

“Coby.”

“Say it louder!”

At the slightest fraction of a decibel above a whisper I again said, “Coby”

“Where am I from?”

I tried to turn to look him in the eye to see if this was a wind up, but couldn’t turn for his grip on my hair.

“WHERE AM I FROM?”

He was building to a crescendo at this point, and I was concerned he would keep asking until my roommate or neighbour answered for me.

“America.”

Now his next request is forever embossed on my memory as the single strangest ask…

“Say it louder so everyone can hear you!”

Really? Who? Who is supposed to hear me? At that point I’d had quite enough of all the chatter, so I changed positions for our finale and put my mouth to better use. I did not invite Coby back again.

I’m still not sure if my roommate or any neighbouring students heard us – but I didn’t look anyone in the eye in the hall for months. But my student days are long behind me, and now that numerous hotel rooms stints have taught me the joy of really noisy anonymous sex, I’d cheerfully yell out a postcode if requested.

Now where were we…Ahh yes, our late twenties. Once we girls pass the quarter century mark it’s often our body image – wobbly bits, bikini lines, you name it – that make us most anxious between the sheets. Positions are chosen for angles that give him the best perspective rather than best angles to reach our sweet spots. In fact, I have advised many a girl to wear stockings for those “in-between” leg waxing dates since no man is going to investigate beneath them too carefully.

As we enter our 30s our body confidence returns or rather we just stop caring what a man thinks, and embarrassment is harder to come by. Possibly running out of lube or discovering we’ve put our gimp suit on backwards, may make us blush in humiliation? I can only assume, the height of embarrassment in my 40s will be hosting an orgy with an uneven gender preference distribution. Fingers crossed that never happens!

Share This

---

• 
• 
• 
• 
• 
• 
• 
• 
• 
• 
•