'Mr Sex': Aw, they grow up so quickly, etc

My gorgeous little nephew reached a very important milestone in his life this week; he got caught singing his first dirty song by me Mam. He was sitting on the settee eating steak and chips (proper chips, mind - none of this oven bollocks) and watching the telly when the Muller Rice advert popped up, and he came out with "Got my legs, got my bum, got my WILLYYY". Eeh, what a shame I missed out on that. I would have been roaring like a jessie with pride.

Because, apart from the obvious sperm-and-egg palaver that goes on at the beginning (and if we're very lucky) dirty interpolations of music (more often than not taken from adverts), is almost always the first contact we have with sex, isn't it? At that time, you don't know how life-affirming, horrible, enjoyable, embarassing, perfect and depressing sex is. You don't even know what it is. All you know is that, for some reason, it's funny as fuck. So let's go back and share a few of those old-school classics, in a Stars On 45 style and fashion. First off is an all-time classic that was taught to all the kids on the street by my next-door neighbour's big sister...

(To the Wrigleys Spearmint Gum advert)

Wrigley's Spearmint Gum, Gum, Gum
Stick it up your bum, bum, bum
If it don't fit, fit, fit
Have a little shit, shit, shit

(To Snoopy V The Red Baron by the Royal Guardsmen)

10, 20, 30, 40, 50 or more
Frank got Betty down on the floor
Kissed her once and he kissed her twice
Pulled down her knickers and said "Ooh! Nice!"

(To Tea for Two)

Tea for one
It's only just begun
Tea for two
We're gonna have a screw
Tea for three
He sat her on her knee
Tea for four
He got her on the floor
Tea for five
Her legs are open wide
Tea for six
He pulled down her knicks
Tea for seven
It felt like heaven
Tea for eight
The midwife's at the gate
Tea for nine
The twins are doing fine
Tea for ten
Let's start it all again.

All very innocent (yet confusing - how do you get someone's knickers off when their legs are wide apart, for example), I'm sure you'll agree. It's only when you hit your early teens that things start to get a bit malicious...

(To Lip Up Fatty by Bad Manners)

Piss off fatty, ah, piss off fatty now you're preggy!
Piss off fatty, ah, piss off fatty now you're preggy!

(To the Milk's Gotta Lotta Bottle adverts)

(Girl you fancy but she's not interested, meaning she's a slag, somehow)'s worked in a - lotta brothels!
(Girl you fancy but she's not interested, meaning she's a slag, somehow)'s worked in a - lotta brothels!

Sadly, I got detenno for that. But anyway - let us care and share. What were you singing when you were a nipper, even though you didn't know what the fuck you were going on about?

Oops, we did it again

Ta very much.

Sam: Smooth Talk

How much can you tell from a voice? I’ve certainly had a few experiences in the past talking to sultry journalists on the phone wishing that I could meet them face to face, but then wondering if I would be disappointed in the flesh.

Apparently not say David Feinberg, a psychologist at McMaster University - in general people with attractive voices have attractive faces. Fast talkers are judged as more educated and people whose inflections are varied are judged to be more interesting. Women prefer men with deeper voices – since apparently pitch is tied to your hormone levels, giving an indicator of health, fertility and dominance. To top it off, while women are ovulating or looking for short term partners, they are particularly attracted to deep voices.

So really women couldn’t help but love Isaac Hayes, that deep deep grumble was irresistible in more ways than one. Better start working on lowering my tone . . .

Sam: The Silverback Thing

In African packs of gorillas there is one dominant male. He is older, bigger and gets all the young nubile lady gorillas while the youngans wait in the wings. He is the Silverback. The Australian Film Ten Canoes, shows how some aboriginal tribes take the same approach, the old fella gets lots of wives, including the youngest and best looking.

I think the Silverback thing is alive and well in London today. Look at men who hit their mid-life crisis, they buy a Porsche and start trying to date 20 year olds. It is surprising the ones who can be successful.

One of my clients in his 40s intellectually wants a mature worldly woman, yet is consistently attracted to women in their early 20’s. A variety of studies have also shown that women are attracted to older men with power and resources, while men are attracted to women at their fertile peak.

Now this whole Silver back thing has interested me intellectually, but for the first time I have actually experienced it.

I was out dancing for a mates birthday and noticed what seemed to be a 20 year old flirting with me on the dance floor. Later I noticed another very attractive 20ish year old giving me some really blatent green lights inviting me to chat her up.

Both times I pinched myself, checked to see if there was hollyoaks look alike standing next to me, as these were the type of girls who wouldn’t have even given me a second glance in my early 20s. If I didn't study flirting body language as a living I would have dismissed it out of hand.

There is a real temptation to snipe at the sad old man and the silly young girl. But now, (highly suspiciously when hitting Silverback age) I’m starting to wonder if it really is a bit of a natural biological phenomena and secretly wished I used some grey hair dye in my 20s.

Are Silverbacks really attractive? And are there any other Silverbacks out there who have noticed the same thing?

'Mr Sex': Wankety Wank, Round Two - answers

Let's see how we got on, eh?


Ronaldo is saying that if he sucks your cock, it doesn't mean that you're Gay. I do like the (DISCREET) bit, in case anyone tempted to ring was worried that he was gonna nosh you off at a bus queue, or when you were round your Mam's for Sunday dinner.



Correct answer - Worm Boy. This is a genius ad, isn't it? I can just see someone on the line, going through a good chunk of Take A Break whilst eating a cob before saying "Go on then, get it out"



Granny, obviously.



The correct answer here is possibly the greatest word in the British wank-mag lexicon: Gusset.



I made a right balls-up here: I should have told you that it was all the same word; Cock, Cock and Cock.

'Mr Sex': We deal with love now on a more personal basis...

When you get to a certain age, you get used to seeing your heroes dropping off. I heard about Barry White snuffing it at a sex show in Amsterdam, when Never Gonna Give You Up came on while some couple were going at it hammer and tong on a revolving stage, and all the English punters around me started clucking and saying "Eeh, in't it a shame about Barry?" and at the end, the bloke withdrew, stood up and saluted the air in tribute, which was nice. He would have liked that.

But anyway, I don't mind telling you that I'm taking the death of Isaac Hayes a bit more personally than usual. Yes, he was a genius songwriter (check this, this and especially this), and one of the greatest bandleaders and score-writers ever (say no more), but he also bookended the only proper, I-want-to-stay-with-you-forever, come-and-meet-my-Mam, when-are-we-getting-married relationship.

It's December 1991, and - for reasons I still can't work out even today - the most beautiful girl I've ever met in my life is telling me that she loves me, and she's been watching me from a distance for ages. Problem is, she's still with her boyfriend, even though he's a creepy-looking bastard who treats her like shit. We're breaking up for the Xmas holidays, and we're going to be at opposite ends of the country for a fortnight. I'm gonna have to do summat spectacular to pull this one out of the bag. So I do what everyone who's fallen in love does.

I make a compilation tape.

Although the technology has changed, and it's a fuck's sight easier to put them together than it was back in the day, you can't whack a tape for starting a proper relationship - especially if you're a dippy lad terrified of saying the wrong thing - and there are hundreds of trained professionals who can do it properly (even though some of them got shot by prostitutes, murdered by their cross-dressing mentalist dads, or couldn't keep their tea down). I couldn't sit her down and tell her that she only had to hand me a contract to be her bloke forever and I'd happily sign it in my own blood, but it would be a piece of piss to leg it to my already hefty record collection and spend a night with my finger hovering over the pause button. And I already know what's going to be the first track, because it's a tune I've been waiting to play to the right girl for years;

The Look Of Love, Isaac Hayes, Live at the Sahara Tahoe, 1973

And I just know that when she hears that, driving down to her parents in a battered Skoda, on a fucked-up tape deck with speakers that fizz and rattle like a bastard, that she'd be mine. While she was on the M25, I knew that a huge black American man in a gold chain waistcoat was sat in the passenger seat, putting in a severe word for me - and keeping his hands to himself, mind - and then saying "Can you pull in at this Little Chef, please, love? Curtis Mayfield wants to say summat. And then Chairmen Of The Board, and a few others."

But then again, I could have filled the rest of the tape with traffic reports off the radio and recordings of my mates on the bog, and it wouldn't have mattered a jot. I'm sorry, Dionne Warwick, I love you to bits, but that version is the most perfect love song ever. By Boxing Day, she's driven across the country to see me.

Fast forward six years. The relationship has slowly and inexorably turned to shit. We're still living together, but she's threatening to leave on a daily basis. She sees her mates, I see mine, we meet up at the end of the night, in bed, not even touching each other. I'd say we were living separate lives, but that would imply that I was actually having one at the time. The last time we go out together, it's with some of my mates (who don't know that I'm in absolute bits, because we're all male and rubbish), at the Royal Albert Hall, to see - yep, you've guessed it; Black Moses himself.

He doesn't play The Look Of Love (and just as well - I would have to have been carried out on a gurney like Hannibal Lecter), but he goes into one of his trademark long introductions to a standard, harking back to the days when he was in black clubs, daring to attempt the whitest songs ever. And he talks about the One Who Got Away. The girl who he got involved with, and let go, and regrets forever. And he describes her. She's exactly the same as my girlfriend. And, as he goes into My Funny Valentine, I just lose it completely. Every bit of salty liquid in my body squirts out of my eyes. My mates look at me, in shock, and I grip her hand so tight I almost break it.

When we get home, I tell her everything. How much I love her. How I know I'm losing her. How I'll never get over it when it finally happens. And we have our last proper night together. I meet other girls, and I do them tapes, but I just cannot bring myself to use that song again. It'd feel like I was cheating on her, because if there was ever a song that absolutely nailed everything I wanted to say at one particular person at one particular time, it was that one.

And then two years later, a flatmate comes over and tells me about a girl at work he's besotted with, and he's promised her a a tape, and he asks me to help. And I peg it to the shelf, pull out Live at the Sahara Tahoe, and say "Side B, track one". They end up having two kids. I'm sure my mate did the bulk of the work on that, but I'm still claiming a tiny bit of responsibility. But not as much as Isaac.

I can play that song - fuck it, I'm actually playing it now - and can deal with it. Because after all, you love the song long before you love the woman, don't you? All I know is that, if there's any consolation to be had from this monumentally depressing bit of news, it's that I know for a stone-cold fact that wherever she is, and whoever she's with, she'll be thinking about me when she hears about it.

And I will always love Isaac Hayes for that.

Sam: Makes all the hard work worthwhile . . .

Hi,

I don't know if you ever hear how your advice works out but I thought I'd share. I wrote into something for the ladies week #3 about how, despite being attractive, I was only finding hookup situations and not relationships. Over the last four months I have been amazed to finally be in a loving relationship and I have to give some credit to keeping all your advice in the back of my mind. Specifically Mr. Sex said not to put sex first in my mind and quoted the Simpson's on a man's need for anticipation and Sam made suggestions about avoiding the attraction trap.

In the end I met the person through friends at a moment when I wasn't thinking about relationships, so neither of us had to approach, we were just sitting in a group with friends, and my "fuck off" vibe was slightly lessened. And second, by then I'd made a policy of being clear about what I wanted. For me this meant I wasn't having sex with someone unless we were in an exclusive relationship. Telling guys this up front totally makes a difference, you get a lot more time for getting to know each other or "courtship" before anyone ends up with their clothes off. Anyways, thanks for your help. I still read TodgerTalk and recommend it to my friends!

Best,

C

Manbits #8

*** If you're male, and you want a bit of advice on your sexy, sexy mither, drop us an e-mail at todger dot talk at googlemail dot com ***

Anonymous writes: Dear TT,

I've only just come across your blog, and have been nodding my head incessantly at your Frienditis posts. There's this girl who I've got to know and I get on with famously, and I've fallen for her big time. And I'm sure she knows, even though I've not said as much. She's seeing someone, but she's always moaning about him. Anyway, long story short - she's looking for somewhere to live in the very near future (she was gonna live with her bloke, but changed her mind - which started another argument, apparently), and I have a spare room at mine. I've not made a firm offer, but it's been talked about and she seems really keen. What do I do?

Sam says: Kiss of death or golden opportunity? That is the question!

Kiss of death?

Being a flatmate dramatically increases the risk of frienditis. You are essentially skipping straight to the domestic stage of a relationship without all the buzz of falling in love. You get to smell each others farts in the toilet. Witness first hand each other's bad habits that can be hidden from the outside world. See each other first thing in the morning looking very rough without the benefit of having had great sex the night before.

I would hazard you are thinking, well, if we live together we can really get to know each other, she will realise what a great guy I am and ditch the other guy who really is a twat. Actually you will get to see all of each other's bad bits and get to hear her moan every single day about her boyfriend while you stare longingly at her. In fact you being her constant moaning companion may actually prolong the relationship, since she can let it all out on someone else and go back and enjoy the good times with her current boyfriend.

Golden opportunity?

Well, you have her around a lot, so there are lot of chances to make a move. The real golden opportunity is this: potential for boozy nights in, with beds just literally a step away. This dramatically reduces the amount of thinking time she has, which is a very big advantage in this sort of situation. The difference between a friend and a boyfriend is sex and the less time she has to think 'oh, am I going to wreck a fantastic friendship', 'oh my boyfriend's a twat, but I really shouldn't be snogging someone else' the better.

In this case only let her move in if you intend to get sozzled and make a very serious move on her very quickly. But be warned, it is probably going to be very uncomfortable in the morning.

My advice? Don't let her move in and start focusing on other women to distract yourself. At the same time, work on setting yourself up as her Plan B. Be patient and go for a quick swoop once she's broken up with her current man.

'Mr Sex' says: I can sum my answer up in two words;

NO, MATE.

Have you discussed with any of your friends the fact that you're even thinking about doing this? Because if they're not slapping you across your fool head and telling you to sort your life out, they are no friends at all. Seriously, what the fuck is going through your mind? Do you think she's gonna look at you on a Saturday morning while you're devouring the remains of last night's Tesco Value pizza with an extra layer of beans on it while watching Football Focus in a chatty dressing gown that flaps open at an alarming rate and think to herself "Ooh, actually, he's a bit of a catch, him. I really ought to have sex with him sometime"? Do you think a conversation about whose turn it is to buy the arse paper is going to end with her sliding her hands into yours and staring into your eyes? Yes, having her in the house is going to give you a slim opportunity to get your end away when she's tired and emotional, but if you're going down that pathetic route, you might as well dish a handful of rohypnol into the kettle while you're at it.

Don't misunderstand my ire; I know what you're thinking. If I show her what a real man is about, and how good it could be, she's bound to nob off this other twat. In actual fact (and as Sam has already mentioned) you'll actually prolong their relationship, because she'll have the best of both worlds; she'll have all the drama of knocking off a (yawn) 'Bad Boy' while coming home to a gormless doormat who'll do anything she asks. And if you think it'll be bad enough to have to listen to him giving your object a desire a noisy seeing-to, wait until you see him on your sofa, with his twatty feet on your coffee table, on your X-Box 360.

Look, she already knows you fancy her, because women invariably do. So stop twatting about, make a move or don't, and find someone with a decent DVD collection to move in with. And thank me for telling you all this six months down the line.

Sam: Oh shit I'm Old

Todgers, I’m wondering if you have had the ‘Oh shit I’m old’ moment yet.

Mine came just the other night. I was out with one of my old clubbing buddies celebrating his 30th birthday. The first sign of trouble was that I started involuntarily wincing as my friend constantly mentioned his 30th birthday and wife to every new person he met - who were all clearly just out of school.

Next was a strange moment on the dance floor, with myself in a shirt (quite stylish I thought) surrounded by girls who were dressed just like Amy Winehouse but younger and without the bleeding toes. Looking at the guys there I started to feel distinctly out of place since I wasn’t wearing a t-shirt emblazoned with skulls and cross bones and my hair wasn’t long and stylishly moussed.

Then there were my fellow pals mumbling to each other ‘I wish the music was a bit more funky’ (translation, I wish they would play music which is now 5 years out of fashion).

It was awful, I felt a bit like a dirty old man hanging out at a school gate. Not what you want on a night out where I was supposed to be out with my mates, having a good dance and celebrating his birthday. I’d like to blame him and his choice of venue – but no solace there. This club was where we all used to end up on Sunday morning at the end of our very big weekends. And I’m sure there was more funky house music then.

Something For The Ladies #20

Ladies: If there's ever been anything about men you've wanted to know but were afraid to ask, or wanted a male viewpoint on a certain relationship niggle you're going through, drop an email to us at todger dot talk at googlemail dot com. Every week, we shall pick one out and answer it to the best of our capabilities.

This week's question...

Potential Barren Old Spinster of The Parish writes: Following on from an earlier post on Todger Talk, which touched on the subject of the 'Commitment Conversation', I would like to understand a man's view on the subject. I am currently in a relationship of 3 years and everything has been going swimmingly, subject to the usual ups & downs, and we have been living together for over a year. I have spoken vaguely with him about getting married & having kids but have recently brought up the subject again, with a more serious tone and am not very encouraged by the response, or lack thereof.

I want kids very much; it is non-negotiable for me but I do not want to have kids outside of wedlock (old-fashioned I know). Therefore, without these 2 things I cannot see a future in the relationship, no matter how good it is. He says that these things will just evolve naturally as the relationship progresses, but it's been 3 years already – how much longer are you supposed to wait? Also, how does it evolve if it is not spoken about? I also have to consider the fact that I am pushing 30 and don't have the luxury of time on my side with the baby issue. I know this is so not attractive, but what can you do?

He is 16 years older than me, already has 1 much-loved child and has had 2 broken engagements in his past, 1 of them due to the fact that his fiancée cheated on him. He rarely mentions it, but I think he was probably badly burned from his past relationship(s), which is what I feel to be the real issue, and while I can understand this it's hardly fair to tar me with the same brush. He's not going to say he will but he also isn't prepared to say he won't. I'm not going to be issuing any ultimatums, neither will I be 'forgetting' my pill as it's just not my style, but where do I go from here?

I would love to know why men react in this way when commitment is brought up and how / when they would like to approach the subject. Please don't all yell "NEVER NEVER NEVER" at once.

Sam says: OK, there are a couple of issues here, one about men generally and another about your guy specifically.

Let's talk about men in general first. Generally men will cruise along with whatever is going along, and if it is good, we are happy with the status quo. One client of mine was rather mystified when is partner of 7 years was getting miffed that he hadn't proposed yet. We figure if we can be in a relationship without all that marriage malarkey, why do anything to change it?

Secondly, let's talk about him. Humans are fundamentally simple creatures; we move towards pleasure and away from pain. When there are large amounts of pain involved, our brain massively imprints on the events and things happening and goes to pretty much any lengths to avoid them in the future. This can have some unfortunate consequences - e.g., your man’s brain has ‘Engagement = Massive Pain and Suffering” branded into his memory. Any time engagement comes up - even it is to a lovely girl like you - his brain goes "PAIN, PAIN, STAY AWAY, STAY AWAY'. A completely irrational (yet quite powerful) knee-jerk reaction.

So from his brain’s point of view, he's getting everything that he wants; he's got kids, a nice relationship and is managing to avoid something bad. Why risk all this niceness for potential pain?

The solution? Make it clear that if he doesn't propose, there lies the way of MASSIVE PAIN - i.e. you will leave him. But beware - people don't like moving towards pain, so expect some serious resistance from him; you are trapping him between a rock and a hard place. I know you don't like ultimatums, but it won't happen unless you take a stand. I would also advise that you start seriously thinking about your Plan B.

‘Mr Sex’ says: Well first off, you shouldn’t feel at all shitty about knowing what you want out of a relationship; you should be congratulated.

Let’s address his previous relationship, because I’ve been through something similar myself. Yes, him being shat on by an ex is going to impact upon every relationship, and it takes a long time to completely trust someone again, if ever. Not because he’s that ‘all women are deceitful slappers’ one – it’s actually because, in the deepest recesses of his brain, there’s a little nodule that keeps saying ‘She shat on you because you weren’t good enough – and if you weren’t good enough for her, after all the effort you put in, how the fuck do you expect to hang on to anyone else?’

So yeah, all the relationships he has after that is going to have to measure up to the colossal highs and gargantuan lows of his first proper one. And this isn’t a male-specific problem, either; when anyone gets shat on, it takes a lot of wiping from the next person (and possibly the next, the fifth, or up to and maybe even beyond the twentieth one) to get rid of it.

But having said that, that’s no excuse for him to expect you to hang around like a big sucky mare and deal with it. Truth is, your modern male can be an extraordinary ditherer when it comes to big decisions like marriage, mainly because they want avoid the risk of their partners saying no, and basically putting the tin lid on any chance of a proper, lifelong relationship. Certain partners don’t help, either, as they can send their chaps conflicting messages. I had an ex who would bang on for ages that she didn’t want to get married and be treated like chattel, and then when we were in bed later would take my signet ring off my finger and go to sleep with it on her wedding finger.

The best thing you can do is flat-out tell him that you want to spend the rest of your life with him, and you want to get married and have kids. Actually, fuck it – why don’t you propose to him? He has the right to say no, but you have the right to piss off and get what you want elsewhere.

People of TT: Comment!