WHILE on the publicity trail for their new movie Suicide Squad, Cara Delevingne and Margot Robbie revealed they’ve had sex on a plane and a jet ski, respectively.
I’m not sure what this has do with the movie, but it does tap into a peculiar social phenomenon — our need to prove how sexually adventurous we all are.
I don’t know when society decided that unless your default coitus position is swinging from the rafters with a rubber ball in your mouth, you’re somehow boring or unadventurous. But often, if you dare say you’re a fan of monogamous sex in the comfort of your own bedroom, people look at you like you’re on day release from the Amish.
I understand rolling around on the Sealy Posturepedic isn’t quite as rock n’ roll as the bitumen of a nightclub car park.
I can also appreciate the thought of Margot Robbie getting one away on a jet ski is the stuff dreams are made of.But when I hear stories like this I think it’s either BS or, if it’s true, it wasn’t nearly as hot as Robbie would have us believe.
For years Hollywood movies have been selling us a sexual reality that’s almost impossible to try at home. Nowhere in the steamy shower scenes of the silver screen does anyone hit their head on a tap or pull their back out trying to prevent their loved one being waterboarded.
At no point in the dialogue of saucy beach scenes do lovers stop and discuss the horrible truth that sand is the enemy of romance (and delicate private parts).
So when we all know this, why do we look with pity on people who say “I actually prefer doing it in a bed”?
Does it make me a prude that the idea of having sex on a jet ski sounds like a logistical nightmare and potential drowning hazard rather than something to put on the to do list?
And what about Delevingne’s “daring” admission she’d had sex on a plane? I don’t know how joining the Mile High Club became a badge of honour but when are we going to get over that one?
Pardon me if my great dream is not to be pressed up against a plastic basin in a confined space where dehydrated people go to poop.
Naturally Cara was too highbrow to do it in an aeroplane toilet so instead she had sex in her seat. What a lady. Obviously when you’re going for it in an environment where people’s only option is to pretend it’s not happening or punch out a window and parachute to safety, you can expect someone might see you.
But when Cara noticed a passenger (understandably) gawking, she did the only thing you can do in a self-inflicted situation like that — she complained to the stewardess.While these kinds of sexual escapades are clearly fabulous dinner party or publicity trail conversations, they’re not everyone’s cup of tea. And just because you prefer sex that doesn’t involve an airline employee questioning her career choice, doesn’t mean you’re bound for the nunnery.
It’s time for those of us who think the missionary position gets a bad wrap to stand up and say it without being labelled a bore.
Because while sex outside the bedroom is exciting for some, for the rest of us it’s just as good without the grass stains and indecent exposure charge.
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