Sex
The expectations men face when it comes to sex aren’t as bad as those women face, but they’re still annoying
In the 1590s (best prediction) John Dunne wrote a poem entitled The Flea. In it, the narrator attempts to convince his lover to have sex with him, arguing that as it isn’t a sin that the flea has sucked blood from both of them (and therefore that their bodily fluids have mixed), it also wouldn’t be all that bad if they were to mix bodily fluids doing a bit of the old ‘ow’s yer father. The poem speaks to the time, to typical conceptions of male and female sexuality: that women generally have to be convinced into having sex, and men are the ones who have to do that convincing if they are ever to get any.
Of course, that’s not what playing hide the cannelloni is like these days — we all want sex, if a little less than we used to (and if it is true that men have a higher sex drive than women in general). The sexual revolution which started in the sixties didn’t just mean we’re allowed to roll in the hay whenever we want — it also led directly to things like the legalisation of same-sex relationships and marriages and the normalisation of contraception, not to mention the legalisation of abortion. All of this, of course, at least in most of the Western World.
And yet, it is still in some sense taboo to talk about barney-mugging, particularly when it comes to not having sex. Asexual relationships, for example, are only just starting to be understood, with some researchers still arguing (falsely) that it isn’t an orientation at all, but due to other factors, generally medical. I can’t really comment on that, not being asexual myself, but I can moan about the societal expectation that as a man, I should always want to have sex. Although I may have a biologically higher sex drive than my girlfriend, that obviously doesn’t mean I always want to shampoo the Wookie; yet turning down the opportunity for sex is a peculiarly emasculating experience, an embarrassing one. Men are often represented as insensitive, sex-hungry selfish types, and this stereotype leaves impressions on your mind. Not being the John Dunne trying to convince your partner to have sex with you, and instead being the one who doesn’t want to do it tonight ‘cos I’m a bit tired, sorry love, feels like going against the grain of the expectations we and our culture build up around the male gender.
Sitcoms are especially bad for it. I take the example of Scrubs because it’s one of my favourite sitcoms. (Fight me.) While J.D. is certainly one of the more sensitive characters on the show, he still conforms to many of the stereotypes about what it’s like being a man when it comes to greasing the loaf pan. In one episode, he is turned down multiple times by a woman for sex, along with two of the other characters, and the joke is that they all simultaneously take a cold shower — and other characters chastise him for not having bedded her yet. And Turk, of course, is a caricature of what it means to be a man — falling asleep immediately after sex, wanting it (and accepting the offer of it) at any moment under any circumstances. The women in the show are almost the opposite: it’s seen as a favour when they do ‘provide’ sex to the male characters, and in general, they don’t want to — it’s a chore.
Evidently this isn’t what squat jumping in the cucumber patch is really like (or at least, it ain’t from my experience). Some men have lower sex drives, and some women have higher sex drives — that’s a big slap in the face from Captain Obvious right there. So it’s interesting that a TV show from this century manages to squeeze laughs out of such low-hanging fruit, especially considering it can be perceptive in other aspects of its analyses of love and relationships. But it’s not the worst of the bunch: think about the characters in Friends and how sex was depicted on telly just in the nineties. Many television shows have not dated well, and they’ve dated particularly badly when it comes to this topic. Attitudes around sex have changed a lot, and they’re still changing, for the better — but the pressures are still there. Seeing sex as something beautiful, romantic, as something that brings you so much closer to a person you care a lot about (assuming we’re talking about sex in a relationship) is still a perspective which can get you called gay by many people (mostly other men) to varying degrees of irony.
And, of course, there’s the pressure of the performance. The fact that it’s referred to as a performance to begin with should tell you something about how we see sex. Rather than as a means to get a bit closer to someone, or simply a way to have some fun, there is a lot of pressure to make sure it goes well — whatever that even means. The pressure of sex being good, and certainly the pressure of achieving the sometimes elusive orgasm, perhaps solely lies with the man in common discourse, as if the journey itself means nothing for a man and is simply laborious grind until the final destination is reached. Moreover, the perspective of bad sex being a waste of time is, in some cases, a fallacy itself. Bad sex, when it’s with someone you trust, can be fun in its own way — the awkwardness of it simply not working out is a bonding moment, and getting through that humiliation together leaves you stronger on the other side. Moreover, just being close to the other person in this intimate setting is something to enjoy, whether you both came or not.
None of this is to moan about how hard us men have it. We self-evidently do not have to deal with the same pressures as women when it comes to getting to know someone in the biblical sense. We don’t walk home at night with the fear of sexual violence hanging over us; we generally don’t have to worry about women pressuring us into sex, seeing as they know how awful it is being on the other side; and we certainly don’t suffer most of the negative attitudes about women’s sex that still linger in the 21st century. But changing how men think about poking squid also means relieving them of some of the pressure they face to be masculine, to want sex all the time even when they actually don’t, and to be honest about the fluidity and instability of the libido — as well as the intricacies of people’s (men’s) desires, wants, needs, and lusts.
