Consent is like a cup of tea apparently. Wanting or not wanting a hot cuppa is now an analogy for sexual consent.
Would you like a cup of tea?
That would be lovely.
No thank you.
Maybe later.
Not at the moment.
Would you like to suck my dick before I bend you over the office desk and make you howl like a banshee?
That would be lovely.
No thank you.
Maybe later.
Not at the moment.
Doesn’t really have the same ring to it, does it? Recently I recorded a podcast called: Losing my virginity or rape?
During the podcast, I review a personal encounter via the #metoo lens. I arrive at the conclusion that what Xennials and Gen Xer’s would call a drunken fuck — millenials and zoomers would call rape.
If you think sexual consent is as straightforward as accepting a cup of tea , you need to get out more. Sexual consent is complex because of non-verbal cues. It’s not black or white — it’s fifty shades of grey. Let’s teach women to be sexually fierce instead of sending them back to the era of buttons and bows.
Women need to take ownership of their sexuality and there are only two choices: sexual repression OR sexual liberation. Choose carefully. The former (which is where we are now) involves being a passenger in sex and blaming others for your choices. The latter is stepping into your fierceness and owning your actions — whatever they are.
Sexually fierce women don’t have shame about the number of men they’ve slept with. Sexually fierce women don’t have shame about watching hardcore porn. Sexually fierce women don’t have shame about sex acts that are not approved by the majority.
We are a tough breed of women who are equal to men and we don’t want any special privileges. We take responsibility for our fierce sexual natures. We understand that female desire is as violent and erratic as any man’s sexual fantasies. We don’t have time for policing — we are too busy looking for our next conquest.
Sex in one’s teens and twenties used to be about trial and error. It used to be about exploration and making mistakes. It used to be about sleeping with all the wrong people.
In 2021, sex has become a puritanical instruction manual written by a bunch of judgemental school prefects. Sex has been sanitised and is about as exciting as a papsmear.
There has been a death of the affair, a death of seduction and a death of a good hard pounding. Count me out. I am alive, wanting and passionate.
I want to be handcuffed to a kitchen table and fed crayfish for sexual obedience. I want a woman with inverted nipples to drink champagne out of my belly button. I want to die at 122 years of age on all-fours with carpet burns on my knees.
I WANT TO LIVE UNASHAMEDLY.
How do you have your tea? Black or white?
(Whoops, I meant with milk or without milk?)
“I don’t drink tea. I’ll just have a coffee, thanks!”