Whether we agree with it or not, the wh*res are winning and the meaning of sex has changed over years—it means less of anything today, except the accompanying fun. The only thing that has stayed intact is the sweat; the positions have changed, the shouting has gotten louder and the spanking has turned into abuse—some call it whipping.
The removal of the traditional s*x veil has left it without any ‘sacrosanct status’ and today, there are so many people out there who are ready to offer it for free; devoid of any emotional commitment or even financial gains.
It’s just fun to many people and as such, it is offered with ease without any critical evaluation of the aftermath. In fact, there is no aftermath except to wake up, put on your panties solely just as you pulled it off alone—and walk out of the room, if it didn’t happen in the park or a car.
When I was in my early 20s, things were a little different. I had special panties that I wore for the act and I had to prepare my mind for it no matter how many times I did it. The romance could not be separated from the ‘bang bang’ and even though I wanted it, I had to be still convinced, pressured or persuaded to giving in.
I didn’t have to take off my panty all alone and the excitement that always popped on the face of the man when the panty was finally on the floor alone was priceless. Even before the intimate session, I was treated like a Queen and the entire day if not few days leading to the act was like my birthday.
Slowly, the guy attempts to buy your mind, your body and understanding with charming little things with respect being the central element of the indirect persuading.
Eventually when you agree to visit (knowing it was going to happen that day), you wear the best of your panties and bra—and for his bargain, the sheets would be cleaned, things set in a perfect order for just that 15 minutes of pleasure which transcends fun into the emotional borders, characterised by the giveaway of your pride.
Even after the act, the pampering would continue and the circle will repeat itself until the next happens. The immediate awkwardness would still exist and mostly, the guy had to do a lot to assure you that, the respect he has for you is still intact—nothing has changed even after seeing your n*kedness.
Perhaps, these were the days women were treated as women and not as sex objects, the latter being a product of the speedy cosmopolitan society we’ve found ourselves. Of course, made worse by the diminishing status of our morals, self pride, lack of personal respect and technology…
The speed at which the world is moving has ploughed a lot of things into a corresponding rapid motion, including where and how to get s*x. No one seems to have the time or endurance to get to know anyone for even a week or two, no one is interested in taking another to dinner, the park or cinema before making the obvious intention well known.
If you are a man reading this, let me tell you that the moment you meet a woman—she is aware of what the heck you want from her. S*x is always on the table and women these days are not worried about that, it is the pre and post sex treatments or activities that the few smart women worry about. So we know you want to get into our panties and satisfy your lustful desire and we are not expecting that to change. The best we can do is to buy time with some slow antics but eventually we are aware it would happen if we stick around or desire to be around.
However, many women including myself do not want to be treated like ‘hoes’ without being given anything in return for our services—not even respect which does not cost a man anything.
I know you want to f**k me and perhaps I want to f**k the hell out of you too but can you make respect a necessary precondition to achieving this? Even if you think I am not beautiful enough to be taken to an ‘aristocratic’ restaurant, to the cinema, to the park, on a holiday or to be taken to a nice modern bar, can you not just let us talk for a little before stupidly demanding that I visit you at 11pm—booty call time?
I understand s*x has lost its position on the moral calendar and the pendulum swings all the time which means it needs to be ‘lubricated’ or else it would break down as a result of corrosion, but self-respect and respect for the other person have not completely lost their significance—and the ability to let people feel special even if in fact, they are not that special is equally important.
Every smart woman can read the handwriting on the wall but we choose to ignore it if we are being entertained or distracted with some good bits of treatment, pampering and being acknowledged as human beings with pride; and not just fleshy holes to be filled with hard sticks.
It would be difficult, perhaps impossible to insist that the act of s*x should take back its original form since what is happening today is nuanced by our social understanding and appreciation of the act. However, we can insist that certain essential parts of the journey such as respect and consent should be maintained.
Even if all you want from me is just to get me screaming in your noisy bed, attempt to sugar-coat your ambition with a little more respect and that way, you may achieve what you want while I will feel my self-respect is still in tact, even if unknowingly, it has long evaporated.
Today, it’s difficult to know who the man is and who the boy is—because they all behave the same, just like dogs on bones hunt, ignoring all the ethics of the chase.
The gross disrespect towards women, being regarded as s*x objects by men is the reason why we have increasing number of certain blatantly demanding women —and sadly, they are called gold diggers yet the men digging into the real honey pots of women without even respecting them are hardly labelled.
It’s true there is some sort of consensus that the definition of s*x in our contemporary setting is fun just as it was seen solely as a means of procreation in the early days. But each known fun under the sun comes at a cost and for women like me, the cost we want men to tolerate is simply; offer as respect—and show it by treating us to it.
Buying a woman a glass of wine as part of the cost towards getting her nailed should not be an option. Even the working women have price tags not just because they want money, because they have egos and self pride too, no matter how ebbed they have become. So even if it is all fun for you, there is still a price tag to be met.
Go on with your pursuit but do so with respect…