Men and Supermen

try and think even harder about cricket or football.

Finally with the words ‘there are no frigid women, only incompetent men’ ringing in his ears, Norm starts threshing away like a sewing machine that’s got out of hand.

THE BLAND LEADING THE BLAND

Then come the lies.

The man, crossing his fingers, will say: “I don’t do this very often, you know.”

The girl, crossing her legs, will say: “Neither do I.” He: “I’ve only been to bed with, er, five women in my life.” She (uncrossing her legs): “This is the first affaire I’ve had since I’ve been married.”

He: “I wouldn’t dream of going to bed with a girl I didn’t feel deeply about.” (Feeling deeply under her dress.)

Several asterisks later he will say: “That was wonderful, darling. Was it wonderful for you, darling?”

“Gosh, that was marvellous, darling. Was it wonderful for you, darling?”

I’m sure one of the reasons for the permissive society is because girls wear so few underclothes these days and are more getatable. Whenever I went out with a new man—fifteen years ago—I used to buy a new pantie- girdle to keep my curves at bay, which acted as a complete chastity belt. And, even worse, there were those all- in-one corselettes, which totally denied access.

MULTIPLE BOREGASM

Sex books in fact have made Sex absolutely impossible. Havealot Ellis and the still small voice of Kama Sutra were all right, but recently I was sent a book consisting of 287 pages devoted to Oragenitalism, which needed a degree in engineering to be understood. And you can go crazy trying to memorise all the refinements of The Sensuous Woman. “The Velvet Buzz Saw, the Butterfly Flick.” Nor can I see that it honestly adds anything to your sex life if you suddenly disappear in the middle of a steaming session to get chocolate ice-cream from the fridge to smear all over each other. And think of the laundry bills.

I’m sure all those ludicrously controlled positions they advocate are responsible for the high incidence of slipped discs these days. I wouldn’t be surprised if most sex books were written by osteopaths to encourage business.

“Oh damn, I’ve lost the place again.”

Cosmopolitan magazine the other day was exhorting girls to excite and cajole their lovers with wildly obscene language. Sexual Norm, who’s been brought up not to swear in front of a lady, would be absolutely horrified.

In fact after reading a sex book manual, I’m amazed any man dares pounce on a girl at all. He must be so worried about ‘ejaculatory incompetence’ or being a tower of jelly in a crisis, or not being able to come ten times a night. Then there’s always the problem of having wined not wisely but too well. Of the four stages of drunkenness: jocose, bellicose, lachrymose and comatose, it is essential to catch the girl at the post-jocose stage.

And novels are so sexy too these days that even if a couple are having a quiet read before going to bed, the girl is liable to become insanely amorous just after the man’s taken his sleeping pills.

LUST IS THE MOTHER OF INVENTION

I’m a believer in lust—if two people fancy each other silly, they usually have a nice time in bed without the aid of chocolate ice-cream or the Velvet Buzz Saw.

Of course there will be men like the Old Man of Thermopylae who never did anyone properly, or lazy men, who believe in labour saving vices, and just lie on their backs and let the girl do all their work.

But on the whole I think the good lover has a way with women as some people do with horses—he makes them relax, he creates the kind of cosy emotional atmosphere in which a woman is not afraid to ask him to do the thing he wants to her. He is also an enthusiast, he cares for making a woman happy rather than making her, he is not frightened of getting his feet or anything else wet—relief would be just a lovely wallow away.

I don’t think most women are crazy about sexual athletes. If he can twist you into every position in the Kama Sutra that’s gym not sex. Nor are they wild about marathons. The third day he rose from the bed may be all right for some, but it’s no good if he doesn’t press the right buttons.

Finally the most important thing in a good lover is a sense of humour. He should be someone who can send the whole thing sky high, who wouldn’t mind if you were having an off day or didn’t feel up to it.

“But sweetest, why in the bedroom?”

BATHS

Afterwards lovers are supposed to have baths together, which I’ve always thought was an overrated pastime, particularly if you sit at the wrong end and have the taps digging into your back, with one side scalded and the other one frozen. On the other hand if you don’t have a bath together, whoever has last bath not only has to make the bed but also clean the bath.

THE VENERABLE BIDET

Then of course there’s the bidet—somehow if you go to someone’s house and see a bidet in their bathroom you assume they must be sexually switched on, or French. Sexual Norm thinks bidets are for bathing the dog. American girl in Paris hotel: “Dig that crazy drinking fountain.”

VASECTOMY

According to a recent article this is the most beautiful thing a man can do for a woman; it’s also one of the shrewdest. If a man has a vasectomy, he can have an absolute hayride sleeping with anyone he wants to without danger. His wife however is completely stymied if she suddenly gets pregnant.

DIRTY WEEKENDS

“But, darling, when you said a dirty weekend …”

Dirty weekends are divided into two kinds, the first when both the man and the woman intend to sleep with each other, the second when the man is intending to sleep with the woman.

As the former usually take place in hotels, the couple’s main problem is to appear married, because if the hotel staff rumble the fact that they are not married they may easily try to put one of them in the Annex. A girl friend of mine recently spent a dirty weekend in Scotland, punctuated by dour Highland Ladies banging on the bedroom door and crying: “Come out, come out.”

“Oh for goodness sake, Annabel, we’ve got to leave early in the morning.”

The couple should therefore remember not to roll up in separate cars with separate luggage bearing different names. They should also not appear too animated at mealtimes, but gaze gloomily into space like other married couples. The girl should also remember not to ask the man whether he likes sugar in his coffee at breakfast or what name she should put in the register.

One wife I know after her husband had spent a dirty weekend in the Cotswolds with his secretary found the