Let's talk about sex.

Way back in the early 90s, the Salt ‘n’ Pepper song ‘let’s talk about sex!’ was a hit. I remember in my school playground it was considered humorous, perhaps a little naughty, something that we knew we really should sing in front of teachers unless we wanted to shock them. We didn’t take it to heart. We didn’t often talk about sex.

When we did, it was in an uninformed, confused fashion. I remember some of the girls giggling and asking me ‘what if you’re sucking his dick and the sperm comes out in your mouth?’ I blushed and felt (and probably looked) horrified. Surely that couldn’t happen! Why would I ever have a boy’s penis in my mouth! The fact that the question was raised in order to shock me makes it clear to me now that for all their talk, they knew as little about the subject as I did.

Another friend took me aside one day to confide in me that she’d been on a date and the boy she was with had been with had groped her. “All I can say is, thank god I was wearing trousers,” she told me, looking wide eyed and intimidated. She asked me what I’d do in the same position. I’d stared at her blankly. “Tell at teacher,” was the only advice I could come up with. I suspect she didn’t. I know I sure as hell wouldn’t have done.

I was a particularly naïve girl regarding sex anyway, but that naïve shyness wasn’t remotely resolved by the school. It was considered a good thing, as I was a Good Girl and unlikely to get into any trouble.  It was a Catholic school, where the only ‘sex education’ classes I recall were taught as part of the Religious Education syllabus. I remember the lesson we had on the subject where we listed the various different contraception methods that we knew about, we were taught the Church’s teaching on them, and then we were played the documentary ‘The Silent Scream’, a graphic anti-abortion film.

That was it. It took a maximum of two lessons. There was no discussion about the hormones involved, the emotions that you may or may not feel, nothing about the physical make-up of male and female bodies, and no recognition that the differences we all have will mean that sex is different from couple to couple on a physical as well as on an emotional level. There was nothing about morality beyond ‘don’t have sex’. To be short, there was nothing at all that was remotely helpful for a group of teens who would probably become sexually active in the following few years.

There was no question of discussing any aspect of sexuality that went beyond heterosexual, monogamous and married sex.

My sexual life started with confusion, worry, fear and a fair amount of pain. All of that could have been avoided if just the slightest bit of care had been taken over preparing me for what was going to be a fairly large aspect of my life at some point.

As I write this, I do wonder whether I was completely alone with this experience. After all, most of my school fellows have gone on to have perfectly normal and happy lives, and I’d assume that this would include perfectly normal and happy sex lives. But I wonder how many of them (not that I’d want a show of hands) had similar moments of confusion and worry.  

My senior school years were from1988 to 1993/5, so a stupidly long time ago, and I would have hoped that between then and now things might have changed just a touch. Maybe things have, I don’t know, my children aren’t at senior school level yet, but I’ve heard a number of depressing stories recently that lead me to believe that in relation to that dream of one day being able to ‘talk about sex’, we’re still nowhere at all.

The first thing that makes me slightly concerned that we’re still in the dark ages with sex education, was Nadine Dorries' parliamentary bill offering the excellent suggestion that we should teach girls to say “no!” to sex.

She’s right, we should. We do need to make sure that the young girls in our society, and the older girls if it’s escaped their notice, know that it is OK to not have sex if you don’t want it. It’s OK not to have sex with a random stranger, it’s OK not to have sex with your boyfriend, it’s OK not to have sex with your long-term partner, and it’s OK not to have sex with your husband or wife if you don’t want to.You are not frigid, a tease, or using sex immorally if you chose not to have it on any occasion.

Unfortunately, there Dorries ended. Apparently, if we just teach girls to say no, they have all the information they need to leave a happy and fulfilled life.

My personal opinion about this suggestion is that it’s a great big pile of shit.

Just for starters, if we don’t also teach the boys (and indeed girls) that it’s unacceptable to continue asking, pushing, wheedling if a person has said no, then the saying of “no!” is a fairly pointless exercise.

The second, and frankly startlingly obvious point, is that the girl might not want to say no to sex (or boy, I know it goes both ways, but to tie in with Dorries right now I’m talking about girls). A girl might have exactly the same hormonal and physical urges as most of the rest of the human race, and she might feel that ‘no’ is not the direction in which she wants to go.

What then? Should we send that girl off towards her partner without even the most rudimentary information about what to expect? I mean, most of us know that at its most basic, the instructions could just read ‘insert shaft A into slot B’, but anyone who’s actually had sex knows that with just the tiniest bit of embellishment, sex can move from just being functional to being fun! And would we prefer to send our children off into a world where they’re simply species-extending, reproductive machines, or where they’re actually going to have fun and enjoy their lives?

Well, maybe I don’t speak for all parents when I suggest that I desperately hope for my children to feel that sex is a pleasant, loving and enjoyable act, and one which they can want to partake in with their partner, rather than something that’s dull, confusing and fairly pointless if you’re not trying to make a baby. I’d prefer to send both of them off knowing that not only did they know how to say ‘actually, not tonight darling,’ or ‘no, I don’t want you to do that to me,’ but also ‘do you mind if we try…’ and ‘that didn’t work for me…’ without feeling like it’s awful to even comment on the act.

We should absolutely without a doubt teach them that they can and should say ‘only with a condom,’ for early relationships, and ‘let’s talk about which contraception might work for us’ in long term relationships.

And the way I believe we get to that point is to talk about sex in a positive, clear and non-judgemental way, without any implication that it’s shameful, sinister or simply wrong to talk about sex regularly and calmly. And I believe that that starts in school.

Now I know that last sentence is going to lead people to think ‘surely, the parents are responsible for at least some of this’. And yes, I do think they are. But, just like I accept the reality that some teens want to have sex, I recognise the reality that some parents might be really uncomfortable talking to their children about sex. And indeed, some children might be uncomfortable talking to their parents about sex. I’d prefer they weren’t uncomfortable, but that’s not reality and it won’t be as long as there are tutting, frowning folks about. The main concern for me is that the children get the information they need somewhere.

I would like to see a society where candid, clear and comfortable conversations about sex can happen anywhere. I think that if children are able to have these conversations at school, it will help reduce any tension that might exist in similar conversations at home. I think that ever so slowly, we’re beginning to get there.

But at the moment we aren’t there.

At the moment, there are enough people like Dorries in parliament able to pass legislation that outlines a ‘just say no’ philosophy. We’re still in a place where people feel restricted in what we feel able to say to their partners, to their siblings and to their friends.

I have admitted to several important people in my life, that I write erotica. Most of my on-line friends know. Some of them may think that I’m wicked and awful for writing it. I know for sure that some others of them read it and like it. I don’t care which category any of my friends fall into. Well, obviously I’d prefer that something that I write makes people smile rather than frown, but it doesn’t change how I feel about any of them, nor does it affect how I feel about myself for writing it. I like some of the erotica I’ve read, and don’t like some other bits of it. It’s not really a surprise considering preferences about sex are personal.

But an event happened over the past few days inspired me to write this post. Another online writer wrote open letters to her friends and some relatives explaining what she does. She’s a mother and business woman, and she’s also a writer of erotica. Previously, she’d always kept her two identities separate, but circumstances forced her to combine the two.

Now, I have a certain amount of nervousness about the same situation happening to me. There are some people that I would prefer never find out. The reason for this is fairly clear; I lack the energy and strength to withstand being judged by anyone for writing what I write.

Now I know I’m making a huge assumption that there are people out there would find it uncomfortable at best and horrifying at worst, but I don’t think that this reaction is beyond the realms of possibility. I think that this is probably why almost all writers of erotic fiction that I’ve seen, do so under a pseudonym. The fact that what I write is predominantly about gay sex makes me more concerned than I might otherwise be. The fact that I’m writing male gay sex, and I’m a mostly-straight female makes me more nervous still. 

Obviously the other reason I don’t link to the two stories I’ve written that might be considered erotica, is that I’m concerned that they’re poorly written, and I’d prefer people focused on the writing that I do that I’m proud of for literary reasons. But the erotica is not actually hard to find and I’m proud that it’s there and that I was not ashamed to write it.

But the main point is that I do fear the judgement. And it’s because I believe that we still live in a society where such things are considered naughty, wrong and shameful, that I believe we must, with the highest priority sort out sex education once and for all. If we don’t put aside our own hang ups and judgements about sex, we’re doing a terrible disservice to our young people.

We need to learn to talk candidly about sex.