7 years ago, after my long-term relationship broke up, an Aussie girl asked me out. It was the first time I’d been on a date. She talked to me extensively about “sex positivity”, which I didn’t understand—though I remembered enough de Beauvoir to talk about feminism in general.
Of course, I went through a stage when I was 17 or so where I believe knowing about feminism would help with girls. That’s partly why I read “The Second Sex”. As you know, it doesn’t help with girls. Anyway, I just talked about these things in general with the girl.
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I was walking about drunkenly having missed my train and she just lunged at me and kissed me in frustration, because I wouldn’t kiss her. Then we had sex. She ended up writing for the Guardian about how sexist GPs are.
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I think it’s okay to write about this here because she had a stand up comedy show about all the men she’d slept with. So, quite possibly, I was just research.
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Despite all this I would persist in living as I was in a very staid Victorian romance novel for 7 more yrs. Let’s not romanticise the past, Rabelais & Chaucer had a pretty good handle on ribaldry & sexuality. As it turns out, I’m living in a techno-hedonist sexual dystopia.
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