- Sex & Drugs
- 26 Jul 11
There was a time when men put a bit of thought and effort into getting a woman to slip into something sexier. Has the language of texts and emails forever coarsened what was once a noble (well, sort of!) art?
I closed the email as soon as I had read it.
“u be sexy and id looooove a ride offf ya wooooooo sexy woman!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
To say I was taken aback would be something of an understatement. Frankly, I was shocked, and if the truth be told, more than a little insulted. But here’s the thing – what I couldn’t figure out was why.
On the one hand it’s obvious – the email was rude; then again, it was also a compliment of sorts, although one that left me feeling cheap and dirty – but not in a good way!
It wasn’t the sentiment as such. As a general rule it is pleasant, not to mention useful, to be thought of as sexually attractive. None of us would have sexual adventures, relationships or romances otherwise.
Perhaps it was the timing? Granted, it’s not the kind of thing you expect to find in your Facebook inbox at 9am on a Sunday morning. If there is a time and place for explicit emails, it’s certainly not after you’ve finished your morning cup of tea. But since I was shuffling around the house in my pyjamas and feeling like a zombie, the idea that I was in any way sexy was quite amusing, if not downright ridiculous.
I considered the way the email had been written. That wasn’t exactly the problem, although it didn’t help. I don’t want to come off as a grammar Nazi, but anyone who is trying to bed a woman who makes her living using words should pay some attention to the niceties of written English. Seduction via misspellings, redundant exclamation marks and text speak? I think not!
I thought it might have had something to do with his choice of words. I’m not fond of the term “ride” – it offends my delicate feminist sensibilities. Riding is something you do to something, such as a bike, car or horse; sex, on the other hand, is something you do with someone – but I’ve been in Ireland long enough not to get my knickers in a twist over slang.
Despite this I couldn’t help but feel I’d have found the whole thing less objectionable if he had worded it differently. A bit more effort crafting the mail wouldn’t have gone amiss but even something along the lines of “I find you attractive and would love to have sex with you” would have been better. It wouldn’t have made me want to get my ass over to his place pronto, but I wouldn’t have felt like telling him to piss off immediately either.
The problem was partly the sender of course. We’d met at a party and we have mutual friends so when he found me on Facebook I thought nothing of accepting his friendship request. This was obviously a mistake.
Call me old-fashioned, but I think it’s polite to get to know someone – ideally in the biblical sense – before sending him or her sexually suggestive emails. From a relatively stranger, such missives come off as creepy, desperate and not in the least sexy. From a lover, they are a delight – particularly if the smut is enlivened with a dash of the poetic.
The question was: did the problem lay with him, with me or (worse still) with society in general. Was he an ass? Or – and here was an uncomfortable thought – did he think I was so desperate for sexual attention that I’d be gagging at such an offer? Or has seduction become so jaded in 2011 that this is the best we can expect? I decided to get some feedback from some of Dublin’s most eligible bachelors. Had they tried anything similar, and most pertinently of all, did it work?
“Maybe he thought he was being a daring, cheeky chappie and being so outrageous you couldn’t take it literally,” suggested Phillip. “My guess is that he probably fancies you and thinks this is a clever, over-the-top way of breaking the ice, and without the immediate feedback of face-to-face conversation he probably has no idea how spectacularly he’s cocked up.”
That was possible, but Augustus disagreed. “That guy’s a retard who probably only said that to you because you write a sex column.”
That was possible too, and seemed a bit more likely. Jeez, write a few words on the joys of sex, an activity almost everybody is partial to, and some people will decide you’re a hopeless slut. I used to find this difficult, but now I take a more stoic view – the fewer chauvinists, rabid religious nuts or small-minded people in my life,
the better.
Far more worrying was the idea that this was an actual method of seduction being practiced across the length and breadth of the country. Were my requirements that a man goes to a bit more trouble ridiculously old-fashioned? Were women dropping their panties all over the place at the barest of invitations?
Charlie thought a direct line of attack could work on occasion. “It’s not how I’d approach the situation, but there is an element among women who would respond to this. If she had half a brain, you wouldn’t expect a positive response. But if not...”
Robbie agreed. “I was at a session there a while ago, and – hammered drunk – said to a girl I’d never met before, ‘Your mad hot, we should make out!’ In fairness to the lady in question, she was also hammered, but it totally worked. The skills on this boy!”
This gave me pause for thought. I didn’t find what Robbie said offensive – rather, it was kind of funny. I had to conclude that it’s less what you do than the way that you do it. Say anything with a dash of humour and there is little chance of affronting anybody.
Mike told me about a former colleague whose modus operandi on nights out was to ask random women if they “fancied a quick shag” outside the pub or club.
“He got a lot of slaps,” said Mike. “But he got a few yeses too.”
I was, in a word, flabbergasted, but hey, it’s a free country – do as
you wish!
I’ve always felt a little sorry for blokes. Society expects them to do the work, and if you are the one making the move, you’re also the one who risks being rebuffed. Because of this I always try to be gentle, but firm, when turning a man down. It’s only good manners. In this case I had no such compunctions. Delete! Delete! Delete!
How the hell did we get here? Are men to blame, or have women become so inured to bad behaviour we no longer notice it?
Mná na hÉireann, we can do better than drunken fumblings in cold and smelly alleyways! We can demand more than badly worded emails and text message booty calls! We’re worth the trouble of a proper seduction and an orgasm at the end of it! We deserve a date, dinner and flowers on occasion.
We deserve an effort – or at least a bloody drink first!