Do we really have sexual freedom? I doubt it. Back in the bad old days we had very clear rules about sexual morality: Don’t, but if you do, don’t get caught. Thank God things have changed on that score at least. But that doesn’t mean society allows us to have sex when, how and with whom we wish. One thing that irks me is that while we now have the freedom to say yes, we seem to have lost the right to say no.

We’ve all had those nights that have gone on too long. You should have been tucked up between the sheets hours ago – instead you find yourself at a house party, light creeping through the chinks in the curtains heralding the dreaded approach of dawn. And so it was with me not too many weeks ago. Luckily the party happened to be in my own gaff, which, although it requires that you clean up afterwards, does save you having to look for a taxi at 6:30 with mascara melting under your eyes.
As the festivities drew to a close, friends departed or crashed on the floor. Ever the good hostess, I handed around blankets and pillows then made my way to bed. As I was falling asleep, there was a faint knock on my door. At the doorway was an acquaintance we’ll call Tony. He complained that my couch was too small to accommodate his 6ft frame comfortably and asked if he could share my bed.
Now while my landlord was a bit stingy in the couch department, he made up for it by supplying me with a huge bed. So being a nice girl, and too tired to think straight I said yes. However, I did mention that while I had agreed he could sleep in my bed, this did not mean he could sleep with me.
I suppose I should have known better. After all, I am pretty irresistible, even in my pyjamas. Not ten minutes had passed when Tony’s wayward hands were heading in my direction. I reminded him of the terms and conditions of the sleeping arrangements and he apologised and rolled over. The Lord may have promised that if you ask it will be given unto you, but I’m not that generous.
He tried a second time, but my iron resolve did not melt. Tony, not one to be put off by a little rejection, subscribed to the ‘if at first you don’t succeed, try and try again’ school of thought. On his third attempt, I screamed like an outraged virgin and kicked him out.
Don’t get me wrong. As anybody who has read this column will know, I love sex. I love foreplay, afterplay, the taste, smell and feel of naked body. I love girls, boys, toys, marathon sex, quickies, romantic sex, dirty sex and a lot more besides. Hell, I even love the smell and feel of filthy sheets after a weekend spent in bed with a lover who can keep me going for 48 hours. But most importantly, whom I want to do all of the aforementioned with has to be a matter of choice – my choice.
Sexual attention may be flattering, but from the wrong person it can be a pain in the ass. No means no. And if you suspect that no might not always mean no, then ask for a date, don’t try and grope your way to a yes. There is a fine line between seduction and harassment and it’s important not to cross it.
Women are frequently on the receiving end of unwanted advances. Thus most of us have developed an array of excuses. These can be as straight forward as claiming to have a boyfriend or the monthly menace. These considerations are often brushed aside, forcing us to be ever more creative. Or deceitful, depending on your point of view. Early morning flights, pregnancy, celibacy, exams, religion and contagious diseases are just some of the ruses my friends have used to put a sex suitor off the scent. My friend Jennifer once got rid of a particular persistent devotee by claiming to have crabs. Desperate times call for desperate measures.
You’d think that women, being used to undesired sexual attention would be a little more considerate in this regard, but no. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. Contrary to popular belief, not all men will shag anything that moves. Whether through relationship commitments, a preference for the same sex or just a general lack of interest, sometimes men will also feel the need to say no, as is their right.
My friend Henri once fell off a bar stool to escape a woman who had shoved her tongue down his throat while grabbing his ears. One of my gay friends made the mistake of befriending a fag-hag who was in love with him. She invited him around to dinner but had he known that a blowjob was to be the hors d’oeuvres he would have RSVP’ed differently. She forced him onto the couch, pulled off his pants and set to work. When he asked her to stop, she threw a plate of pasta on his head. Poor lamb. It’s a war zone out there for some people, and women know how to fight dirty.
A rejection of one person is not a rejection of sex. Chances are, it’s not them, it’s you. The excuses we give are merely there to cushion the blow. The wise man or woman on the receiving end should accept the excuse, maintain their dignity and slink off to lick their wounds in private. This is the proper order of things and its unseemly to sulk or scream like a spoilt child when you don’t get your way.
I am very glad that we live in an age where we can have sex with different people every day of the week, if we want. But just because we can, doesn’t mean we have to. After all, the more choice we have, the more discerning we can afford to be.