What We Talk About When We Talk About Sex

I feel like I’ve talked a lot about getting older and how that has been making me feel. Last night I had a reminder of how, in reality, it pretty much suits me down to the ground to be a bit older.

It was a friend from work’s 28th birthday party last night. It started at his flat and then gravitated into town later. Not a very big party, maybe 5 of us, and I was drinking wine and chatting nicely. Then two girls from my work arrived.

I should say before I go further that I like both of these girls. I don’t know them very well but they are really nice girls. However, after the arrived the conversation turned onto various people in the room having sex with one another, people they’d met out and about and had sex with, and drinking loads. I was completely out my of depth. I’ve been with Snake for 5 and a half years and most of my friends are couples, so we don’t really talk about having sex with each other. To be honest, it got a bit boring after the first few minutes. By the time the party moved to town, I was quite happy to depart. They walked me to the top of my road and then clattered off into town, clutching giant bottles of WKD.

I know that this all sounds very snobby and I don’t mean it to be. It just all felt very teenage, or very studenty. I remember when we did used to talk about sex all the time, and it was very much about quantity over quality, and how exciting or daring it could be. Now, it just all seems quite irrelevant. A good sex life is important of course, but it’s not really worth talking about, at least not for the entire evening. I suppose what I’m getting at is that when we had these conversations, it was really about what sex said about us. If lots of men – boys – were interested, it made us feel sexy. If we did something in a daring location, it made us feel exciting, wild, and ultimately grown up. It was insecurity really, and finding out who we were. Hearing these conversations last night between two adults made me see their insecurities and it made me feel really sad for them. They were using their sexual antics to define themselves, and they shouldn’t feel the need to do that.

So, I woke up this morning, at a reasonable time, because I didn’t go to town and stay out until four! I spent some time in bed, reading and chatting to Snake, then I got up, showered, read some more and cooked a delicious tortilla. Sadly I forgot to photograph it, but it was really delightful. Anyway, as I was frying my potatoes in my pinny, thinking about last night, I was suddenly struck with how happy I am with my life. I’m happy to be in my pinny, making a tortilla, on a Sunday lunchtime rather than waking up, sticky mouthed and hungover, either on my own or next to a randomer. I am glad that part of my life is over. It was fun at times, of course it was, and by and large I really enjoyed my evening, but I am glad I have something better to come home to. I am glad to be grownup, and it is good to be reminded of that now and again.

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