I’m not the most sensual person in the world and as for spirituality; I can’t even stand the word. It’s pretty meaningless to me. I’m a romantic soul, I believe in love and all that stuff and am very devoted and loyal when the occasion calls for it but when it comes to the experiences that other people seem to find sensual and enjoyable I’m not impressed at all. I often try to ignore that fact that my body exists and almost see it as a separate entity to my mind. Let me explain.
I once had a massage in a hotel. It was all above board, no “extras” were offered. It was a posh hotel and had a spa and the Police Inspector ex bought it for me as a nice surprise. How little he knew me. I loathed the experience. The touch of a stranger’s hands felt intrusive and to be honest I was frankly bored after about a minute. Once I got over worrying about what she thought of my back, I was out of my mind with the dullness of it all. It felt like half an hour of torture. There was nothing to read and the whale music wasn’t even worth singing along to.
As for actual sex, that should be dirty, fun and preferably take a lot less than an hour. I really can’t be laying for hours there with all the gentle stroking and cooing while the hovering needs to be done and there’s DVDs to watch. Its part of the beauty of being a gay man, that sex is quick, dirty and fun. No hours of fiddling around and subsequent chaffing for the gay boys. If you’re in a gay relationship, sex is generally not going to detract from your leisure time that much and you can still get a few chapters of a good book read before sleep time. Most gay men seem to base their sexual repertoire on porno films they’ve seen which is fine by me, as long as they don’t do the dialogue too or expect you to deliver a pizza.
I’m not a tactile person, although I will tolerate being hugged, briefly as long as it’s not too gripping. I like to breathe. Holding hands is fine; I can cope with that for perhaps fifteen minutes, before it gets uncomfortable. I like a little cuddle within reason. I can spoon for a good 5 minutes before I get restless. The fibbing police Inspector I once dated always wanted to go to sleep holding on to me. I compromised and he was allowed to touch my foot with his, much less sweaty and more civilised. Sleep is a serious business.
The biggest problem I had with my lack of sensuality was my relationship with the public school teacher who dumped me the day we got back from Paris. This may provide more evidence as to why that happened. He was very keen on romantic notions, which was fine, but he wanted to cuddle constantly, which left me feeling irksome and suffocated. There’s a distinct lack of comfort in watching a film whilst astride someone’s lap or with your legs intertwined. Give me an armchair over a shared settee or preferably my own settee. He always wanted to hold hands in public too, if we were somewhere quiet like a park, which whilst sweet, was kind of a trip hazard for someone as clumsy as me. I need to concentrate when I walk.
He overstepped the mark when he tried to feed me from a fork. I was mortified. It’s what I’ve spent the last 18 years doing for sick people at work. Where’s the sensuality in feeding someone? It makes me think of dementia. I shuddered. As for combining food and sex, don’t even get me started there. There are no dairy products or fruit going near my nether regions, too messy. To be honest, I don’t even like fruit and eating it off someone’s body is not going to make it any more appetising.
Next came the wanting to bathe me. See above. I am pretty capable still of washing myself. He asked me to share a shower once and I conceded, with moderately good grace. The word “once” is of importance here, he didn’t ask again. To me, personal hygiene is very important, a view which I wish the population of public transport shared. I like to keep my bathroom as clean as I can and it’s always copiously bleached. I pride myself that you could perform an emergency appendectomy there at any moment and probably not get a post operative sepsis. I also like to wash myself very thoroughly. His idea of a gentle and sensual bathing experience with me was soon scotched when I grabbed some soap and was vigorously scrubbing myself all over with special attention paid to the nasty areas. It’s a serious business keeping clean. He left my shower and left me to my frenetic cleansing routine.
So, if anyone is ever tempted to buy me a spa day voucher or an aromatherapy kit then please don’t. It’s not for me. You can keep your Ylang Ylang and dolphins bleating away. I prefer relaxing the more traditional way, with prescription drugs.