The Five Strands of A Sedentary Empress

American Sexuality

"American Sexuality" 

"What (or maybe who) determines the boundaries of what is forbidden?"

An interesting question, no? Why are some societies so laid back about sex while others are so squeamish? Why do some people think of sex as a pleasure while others see it as the mark of indecency? You watch a television advertisement in Quebec and you're bound to see a pair of naked breasts, while here in Ontario, you only get the suggestion of them. How is that within the very short distance between the two provinces there are miles and miles of disparity over sex?

My take on it is fairly simple: the person(s) responsible for establishing boundaries of what is forbidden are those who abide the rules put forth by another. In other words, if someone gets up on a podium and yells into a microphone that everyone should lose their clothes and have sex with the person nearest to them, the only way those words would have power would be if the people listening actually did what they were told. Their defiance or allegiance determines the establishment or breaking of the boundaries. In essence, we make a conscious decision as to whether or not we will abide by the laws of others.

But, you can't argue culture. Some just have a more relaxed philosophy about physical expressions of love or lust, and it is probably far easier to accept your own desire when you live in a country where it is encouraged that you explore it. In North American culture, we have the same desires, but we try to hide them, sometimes apologizing for them when they're exposed. There are unspoken limits to what we should be doing, and if we delve into something considered 'kinky' or 'weird', we know enough not to tell anyone except those who may share the same fetish. As everyone generally has sex, and as most of us have different likes and dislikes about it, there is always a pink elephant in the room, if you let yourself see it.

Sometimes, when in a room of people who make me nervous, I try to imagine them sexually just to take the edge off. It helps to imagine that the uptight school marm with the painful expression and severe hairstyle likes handcuffs in the privacy of her own home. It calms me to think of that horrible, fat little man who used to be my boss might have liked to be spanked with a wooden paddle. It humanizes them, brings them down a notch. Who are the needy sexers? The rigid, plank-like sexers? The wild, break-yo-penis sexers? I sometimes wonder this. It's possible it makes me a freak.

My limits are fairly simple: anything you like to do sexually must not harm or violate another living being, and, I prefer monogamy. I don't like to share my people, just how I am, and I'll never get past that. I suppose this means I need to feel love in order to fornicate with someone, and I can't imagine having the sex with someone I don't value as a person, but I don't see much wrong with that. I can appreciate a healthy sexual appetite in another person, but I have to admit that people who indulge in it with some kind of voracity often have me relegate them to the category 'slut', male or female. I think you should be selective about it, for a few reasons.

Have you seen the Polanski film 'Bitter Moon'? One of my favourites, and every time I tell someone this, they struggle with it because I don't seem the kind of person who would relish a film of this nature. Basically, this is a film about sexual indulgence and its pros and cons. One of the main characters falls in love with a young dancer he sees on a bus in Paris, having only seen her once, and he hunts for her afterward for days on end, because his feelings are that intense. He finally finds her, by accident, and they begin a love affair that starts off sweet and beautiful, and by the end they are dressing up like farm animals and thwacking each other with whips. As would be expected, he tires of her, has done everything he can imagine with her, and he stops seeing her as a person but instead looks at her with abject hatred. As she lies naked on the bed, sleeping soundly, almost innocent, he realizes that he feels nothing for her anymore, as though they had killed the purity of their love with greed and compulsiveness. In turn, she has come to idealize him as much as she thinks she needs him to breathe, and that's where the real trouble starts, with a strange and abusive relationship that eventually ends in death. If you haven't seen it, I haven't really spoiled anything by telling you this. There are twists and turns. It's Polanski, after all.

The point I'm trying to make is that less is more. When I complained to my friend K. that I felt like I wasn't having enough sex with M., she smiled and told me that she hardly ever has sex with her husband because he just isn't that sexual. Then, she told me how she likes it this way, that it makes the times when they do it that much more exciting and passionate, that the problem with her previous relationships is that they wanted it too much and she got bored. Now, she's always on her toes. There's a twisted kind of logic in that. It's like someone who likes doughnuts eating them for seven days straight. Obviously, the last thing they're going to want on the seventh day is a doughnut. But, a doughnut lover who gets one only once a week is going to be counting the seconds until they get to sink their teeth into one. For some reason, this makes sense to me.

To be perfectly honest, I like the taboo of sex. I love it, in fact. I like that it feels dirty and forbidden and luxurious at times. That's what makes it better, to me. I love words like 'clandestine', 'illicit' and 'forbidden'. It makes sex more powerful, I think, more intense. My friend A. participated in a few orgies at a sex club some years ago, and she said it actually got quite boring after a while. You can't replace an authentic connection with tangled limbs and lips, you see. You might think you can, but you can't. We always end up yearning for love in the end, and I like to think that the exclusivity of sex in our society provides a means to an end. Take a look at how some cultures work, with rampant, indiscriminate sex and then look at the statistics on single parenthood and fatherless children and tell me that sex without borders makes sense. In the end, the five minutes of ecstasy can lead to a lifetime of heartache. We're human. We like love. That said, I do appreciate crazy sex when it's with someone you care about. I do think it's okay to experiment and explore fantasies as long as both parties are on board. I like feeling like a dirty girl every now and then. I think that limits have something to do with that, but then, I like structure and always have.

There's something undeniably sexy about suppression. Something in us always wants what we can't have. The bush is always fuller over there, so to speak. I wonder if prostitution would be so popular in a society in which sex is not only out in the open, but encouraged. Why would anyone want to pay for it if it was available for free? The thing is, given that this is the so-called 'oldest profession', it seems to me that people, as a whole, like sex to be slightly under wraps. The majority seems to like slight restriction, otherwise the 'sex trade' wouldn't exist, would it?

I like the smouldering looks, the private wondering about what a bedroom-eyed stranger might be plotting when I smile in his direction. I don't think I'll ever want to be in a society in which there are no secrets, no innuendo, no stolen moments. I think taboos make life more interesting, and the chance of orgasm is far more likely if they're around for us to fiddle with.

But, that's just me.