Can We Talk About Sex Without Everybody Getting Weird?
I discovered something this week.
You can stand completely naked in front of another adult and nobody bats an eyelid, but say the word sex over a cup of coffee and suddenly everybody becomes fascinated by the biscuit tin.
Apparently a nipple is fine.
Communication is where we draw the line.
This came about because somebody said something — I’m not telling you who because I enjoy remaining alive — about couples not talking enough about sex.
And obviously my brain immediately went, Do they not?
Dangerous question.
Five minutes later I’m drinking coffee, reading about relationship communication and wondering why perfectly sensible adults who can discuss mortgages, haemorrhoids, childbirth and whether the dog has worms can suddenly become Victorian aristocrats when the conversation turns to intimacy.
“We don’t really discuss… that side of things.”
What side?
The west wing?
Then somebody used the phrase “marital relations.”
Marital relations.
That sounds less like something you do naked and more like a department at the council.
And the more I thought about it, the stranger it became.
Because today is Tuesday, 8 September, and by now the household has properly dropped back into September routine. There are timetables again. Things need doing at particular times. Everyone has somewhere to be.
Life becomes logistical frighteningly quickly.
Who’s going where?
What are we eating?
Has that bill been paid?
What time are you back?
Did anyone buy milk?
And somewhere among all that administration are actual human relationships.
Remember those?
The people we supposedly rather fancied before the relationship developed its own laundry basket.
It’s funny because naturism has probably made me less awkward about all of this, not more.
Nakedness simply isn’t terribly dramatic at home.
Someone wandering through without clothes doesn’t automatically mean anything is about to happen beyond making toast.
Sometimes naked really does just mean naked.
And perhaps that makes the distinction easier to see.
Nudity isn’t sex.
Sex isn’t automatically intimacy.
And intimacy isn’t necessarily sex either.
I can already hear my brain shouting, Ooh, we’re getting philosophical now.
Calm down, Plato. We’re still in the kitchen.
But there is something important underneath my silliness.
NHS sexual-health guidance describes healthy relationships in terms of trust, respect, open communication and consent, and specifically encourages people to talk about boundaries, contraception and what feels comfortable.
Relate makes much the same point: intimacy isn’t some mysterious performance where everybody is expected to telepathically know what the other person wants. Communication matters.
Which sounds incredibly obvious.
Until you actually have to do it.
Because apparently saying:
“Could you empty the dishwasher?”
Easy.
“Do you still fancy me?”
Suddenly we need a small brandy and an emergency exit.
Not me with the brandy, obviously. Mine would be tea.
Actually coffee.
Who am I kidding? Coffee.
There’s vulnerability in talking about sex that isn’t there when you’re talking about the bins.
You have to risk admitting what you like.
What you don’t.
Whether something has changed.
Whether you’ve changed.
Whether you’re happy.
Whether you’ve become self-conscious.
Whether you want more affection, less pressure, more closeness, more space, something different, or simply to know that the person beside you still sees you rather than the person who knows where the spare toilet rolls are kept.
And that, I think, is where the biscuit tin suddenly becomes fascinating.
Because it’s easier to joke.
We British are excellent at this.
Something emotionally uncomfortable enters the room and within seven seconds somebody has made a knob joke.
Problem solved.
Except it isn’t.
Consent is another part of this that we sometimes make unnecessarily formal in our heads. It isn’t a contract signed at the bedroom door. It’s ongoing communication: everyone involved freely choosing what they’re comfortable with, with the right to change their mind. NHS sexual-health guidance is explicit that consent shouldn’t simply be assumed, including within established relationships.
Which brings me back to naturism.
One of the most important things naturism taught me is that the human body doesn’t need a storyline attached to it.
Naked doesn’t automatically mean available.
It doesn’t mean interested.
It doesn’t mean flirting.
It doesn’t mean sexual.
It can mean I’m making coffee and couldn’t be bothered finding my dressing gown.
That distinction matters.
But equally, insisting that naturism isn’t sexual doesn’t require us to behave as though naturists don’t have sexuality.
Of course we do.
We’re people.
We fall in love, fancy people, stop fancying people, reconnect, get embarrassed, have relationships, lose relationships, wonder whether we’re desirable, have awkward conversations and occasionally avoid awkward conversations by developing an unprecedented interest in biscuits.
Pretending sexuality doesn’t exist wouldn’t make naturism more respectable.
Understanding boundaries does.
And perhaps grown-ups being able to talk about sex without either turning it into something crude or behaving as though Queen Victoria has just entered the room would be rather healthy.
Sexual pleasure itself is recognised in NHS sexual-health guidance as a normal part of human experience, with preferences and boundaries differing from person to person.
I rather like that.
Not because it’s shocking.
Because it isn’t.
That’s the whole point.
Bodies are ordinary.
Sexuality is ordinary.
Relationships are complicated.
Consent matters.
Communication helps.
And none of those statements cancels out any of the others.
Anyway, I have now spent far longer thinking about this than intended because I originally came into the kitchen to make coffee.
Which has gone cold.
There are also no biscuits left.
Apparently somebody felt comfortable enough to discuss those.
So, be brave: why do you think we can talk about almost anything as adults, yet still get so wonderfully, ridiculously awkward when somebody mentions sex?
