As the new Token Male on xoJane UK, I had to consider what readers would want from a piece coming from an XY chromosome angle.
An insight into the intricate workings of the male mind perhaps? A reassurance that we’re just as messed up in every way as you lot are? Or just a bit of titillating copy (tee-hee, that word starts with ‘tit’, we boys like boobs) that can help you while away the office hours?
Well, whatever you want, I’ll try to deliver, although, more than likely, you will probably end up just being thoroughly disappointed and figuring you can do the job better yourself. But that's okay, we can just cuddle.
Nonetheless, having read far too many articles on xoJane than is healthy for a heterosexual man, I do know that you need a punchy headline – so what better than the tale of my ‘friend’ (a lot of my stories will be about a ‘friend’ I assure you), who helped a girl confirm her own sexuality.
Said friend – let’s call him Dave, because I’ve always thought I should have a mate called Dave – had just split with wife of five months.
The wedding was beautiful – she had worn a blue furry shawl, it was as if she’d skinned Gonzo – but it was not to be and so we took him on a rugby tour to try get over things.
There were several women’s rugby teams playing, and not that it matters or is remotely surprising, but the clichés about women’s rugby are true - there are a good few lesbians involved (I think I once read it was due to higher testorone levels or something, but don’t quote me on that).
Anyway, long and short of it, was that Dave ended up pursuing a girl we all knew was of the yoni-chasing persuasion (thanks Miss Quiver for adding ‘yoni’ to my vocabulary).
And she didn’t even try to hide it - indeed we once found Dave – quite inebriated by this point – attempting to physically pull apart the lip-locked heads of his quarry and a rather butch looking prop forward.
On discovering this clearly gay girl lived in the same city as us, he continued his pursuit the following week. And, after copious amounts of alcohol were consumed by both parties, he managed to weasel his way back to her place on a promise of a bit of yoni (this is my new favourite word).
He got it too, but mid-way through – that’s about a minute or two in – she suddenly says ‘stop, get off me, I’m definitely gay’.
To which his response, presumably after his heart had sunk so far they passed his bollocks which were heading in the opposite direction, was to mumble his apologies and remove his non-considerable weight from her slight frame in as apologetic manner as he could muster given the circumstances.
This would’ve crushed a lesser man but Dave is bulletproof, not only did he tell us this sorry tale, he also went on to live and long and happy sex life. It does make you wonder about what women think about during sex though.
What was the yoni-lovers’ train of thought when she was having sex with Dave?
I like to think it was something like: ‘okay, not bad so far… yup, that’s fine… that’s not unpleasant, maybe I’m straight after all… oh, hold on, something’s not right… nope, not liking this… OH MY GOD, WHAT IS HE DOING?!… ABORT, ABORT, ABORT’
I’ll be honest. Blokes don’t think about anything other than getting to the end result when it comes to sex – we certainly don’t question such things as ‘am I gay’. Well I don’t, anyway.
Admittedly, if a girl is silent throughout then you will think, is she… a) asleep; b) dead; or c) not enjoying this… before carrying on with the job in hand and worrying about the consequences later.
And once you’re into your late-20s/early-30s, even thinking about things to dampen your ardour is pointless because most of us can sexualise anything (nuns, animals, relatives), so it only makes things a bit kinkier in your head.
If we catch sight of ourselves in a mirror – that’s usually hotel sex though, which is obviously the best – then we may think ‘hey, those bicep curls are working – if only my mates could see me’.
That’s it though, aside from those three scenarios, we don’t think anything – ask a bloke and he may deny this, but I assure you it’s true.
It’s a worry for us that girls do think so much, and not just because you could be questioning your sexuality while we’re ‘doing our thang’.
I asked the girl I’m seeing what she thought about, to which she responded ‘well, if you go beyond 20 minutes then I do start wondering if we should paint the bedroom mushroom or something’.
While I didn’t even know mushroom was a colour, and certainly not one I’d want my bedroom, I’ll not be losing any sleep over that.
After all, 20 minutes? That’ll be the day.
Do use sex time to consider your sexuality? Or interior design options? Or to try and recall when your tax return is due? Or is that just the women I seem to end up sleeping with? Please tell me, I really need to know...