Here's your place to come talk about sex and love whenever you feel like it.
Surely this is the face of everyone's fantasy. No?
In my previous life as editor of the sex channels on handbag.com, I aquired a ton of sex manuals (Tracey Cox’s Hot Sex is probably my favourite and most useful if you’re in the market) and one piece of advice that kept cropping up was to ask your other half about their sexual fantasies.
Hmm, I can do that I thought. I’m open-minded. I’ve sat on both sides of the fence. I’ve even eaten chocolate body paint (which, let’s face it, is always disgusting - you’re much better off using Nutella. Fact). Cut to my mood-lit living room, Barry White playing on the stereo (nah, just kidding I prefer Marvin Gaye – Let’s get it on, ooooh) and me asking my lover what really gets his goat, praying as hard as an atheist can that the answer wouldn’t actually be goats.
Leopard print? Check. Bull whip? Check. Saucy grin? You get that free.
And didn’t I get a surprise; no cliché school girl fantasies here, not even a kinky nurse pulling on the latex gloves. Instead my man revealed that when I get upset and have a bit of a cry he often finds himself getting rather turned on, but then not really knowing what to do with it - trying to get your leg over your bawling girlfriend is pretty bad form, apparently. Who knew every time I was reaching for the tissues my fella was sat there being supportive with a semi?!
Now, some of you may be outraged by this, thinking, ‘typical man, always thinking about sex’ but actually I found it really rather endearing. We talked about why he thought this happened and my amazing amateur psychology concluded that it must be because he wants to take care of me and when I’m upset he gets to play the big man and make it all better. Secondly, now I knew this secret about him I could use it to my advantage. Now when I’m sad and remember his confession I forget what’s upsetting me as I’m now thinking about his penis.
This picture really has no relevance other than I had an amazing night, hugged a gold elephant, licked someone's shoulder and ended up wearing bloomers. Fantasy? Or just plain fantastic.
Plus, his obvious attraction to me makes me feel good. Yes, there you go I said it. Having a man be attracted to me makes me feel all-woman in a way that no amount of shopping, sanitary towels and Sex And The City can ever do. So, sit your man down and prepare to reveal all, just remember that you can’t look at him as though he just killed Bambi if what you hear isn’t quite to your liking. After all, different (whip) strokes for different folks.