Monday, March 22, 2010

Let's Talk About Sex

No, let's not.

Maybe it's because I grew up in Adelaide, born to a family of fervent Methodists. Maybe it's because I'm just a bit of a prude. Maybe it's because I'm single and I can't say that making the beast with two backs has been a constant feature of my life for a very long time.

But of one thing is going to irritate the excrement out of me it's when people I don't know that well start discussing their sex lives as if they were discussing their shopping lists.

Seriously. I just want to stand there with my hands over my ears and sing "I'm a Little Teapot" really loud.

It's been like this for a long time.

I have one old friend who lives interstate and I don't see that often who peppers all of her conversations with double entendres and smutty talk.  You'd think rolling my eyes and groaning every time she has done this over the last twenty years might tip her off to the fact that she's making me uncomfortable - but no. Last time I saw her, on mentioning that I'm ambidexterous she asked if that meant I can masturbate with both hands? Like, what? I'm 41 not fourteen - come if it. I have asked her to tone it down over the years. It makes no difference. She's an old friend, I deal with it. And I'm grateful she lives eight hours drive away. There's lots of normal conversation in between the smut too - and motherhood has tamed her a little, thank goodness.

However, tonight, on my way to doing some study, I popped onto Facebook. An instant message pops up. Joy. It's Virgil.

Virgil, good Thunderbird name. Alas, Virgil sort of looks like a thunderbird. Well he looks like a thunderbird mixed with your mother's creepy  second cousin that you have been warned about. Virgil, for all intents and purposes, has all the makings of a nice man. We met at work a few years ago. Never had much to do with him when I was there. I left that company three years ago now.

Then late last year he facebook friended me. And as you do, we got chatting. After a few weeks of chatting on and off we decided to hook up for a run around Albert Park Lake. No worries there. I've met Virgil's partner, a nice woman. Read her cards even at the company Christmas do two years running. I'm always looking for people to run with. And Sunday morning at Albert Park Lake there are lots of people around - so it's not like we're meeting in a quiet place to do anything nefarious. It's just running.

The thing I didn't know about Virgil before going running with him was that every second sentence that he produces has to do with sex. I knew from chatting that he could get a bit fruity, but the great thing about talking over the internet is you can turn it off if you have to.  (BRB - phone.... and go appear offline for the rest of the night)

After two laps of the lake I knew everything about him and his partners bedroom antics and what he'd allegedly like to do to me given the opportunity. I asked him to stop with the sex talk. He continued after a break of ten minutes. I asked him once again to stop - I wasn't comfortable with it. After ten kilometres of him telling me how he liked watching my breasts jiggle up and down while I ran, I promptly made the decision not to run with him again.

The really daft thing is that when he's not being pretending to be Werribee's answer to Ron Jeremy, he's quite sweet and nice to talk to.

Tonight, over the communicator, between stories of the bedroom kind, Virgil asked if I wanted to go running with him again. I've managed to put him off until after Easter - what with Reindert here this weekend, and Easter, and the fact that I don' think I can cope with his florid descriptions of his new lover that he's boasting about...

Maybe I'm just a prude  - or a glutton for punishment. Will I go running with Virgil again? Do I have to examine why I'm so uncomfortable when it comes to these matters? Do I wish the human race procreated through osmosis? Do I need a decent session with a fellow I fancy? (not a Thunderbird?)


Card of the Blog: Six of Swords - the divorce card. Travelling from rough waters to smooth, The Family Curse Card. Overseas Travel.


Kilometres walked since 29 January: 156 km
Kilometres run since 29 January: 94 km
Currently reading: Celebrity by Andrew O'Hagan, Ultramarathon Man by Dean Karnazes
Weight lost since 29 Jan: 1.7 kg

1 comment:

Kath Lockett said...

Hmm. The breast comment is enough for me to stop running with him.

Sometimes I think these guys think they're being sophisticated, or, worse, 'funny' but it's really just creepy and annoying.