Yesterday I was reminded of that quip from Clement Freud that, these days, if ever a woman suggested that they go upstairs for a bout of passionate lovemaking, he was obliged to reply that sadly – for him – it was a case of either one or the other …
The gag came to mind this morning when I caught up with a new dating ‘app’ which has just reached the market, dealing with issues of sexual consent. Its scheme is to make any couple, when potentially contemplating going to bed together, complete three or four stages of process before the app then ‘records’ that they’ve both consented to sex and can therefore proceed (or indeed, not)– see here for the article reviewing it, written by Amanda Hess, in – THE INDEPENDENT
I’m not sure that I personally will be investing in a download of this particular app.
Already your first course of foie gras ravioli, leek fondue and chicken veloute is nestling in your stomach, washed down with a couple of glasses of Petrus 2007 red, and you’re contemplating little more than your main of boeuf wellington with all the trimmings … followed by a cool draw upon your eight-inch Montecristo No 2 cigar over dessert and … before retiring to your bedroom, and the land of Nod, as usual, at shortly before 8.50pm.
Suddenly, you feel a small vibration in your nether regions … a ‘ping!’ … and, after first apologising to your lady friend for the intrusion and then a good deal of fumbling about and trying to remember the password on your smartphone, you manage to ‘get into it’ and register that you have received a message.
It’s from the self-same lady opposite, asking whether – after you’ve walked her home over the bridge, as the perfect end to what has been a rather pleasant and laid back evening – you’d like to go in for a bonk.
What on earth is a man of refinement like myself supposed to do in these circumstances?
Work it out. Your own perfect end to such an outing might well be making a trip to the bathroom, rip off your clothes asap and leave them on the armchair by the window, then take a theatrically-extravagant dive onto your bed, as you do so pulling your duvet over your head in the full expectation of being 100% comatose before it hits the pillow.
Nevertheless, perhaps now etiquette and your personal gentlemanly code of conduct may demand otherwise.
I’ve re-read the article in The Independent twice and I’m not sure that the lady who’s brought this new app to market has included quite enough options to cover all eventualities.
Surely there should be an extra one to the effect:
“Well, thank you very much indeed for the kind offer – one perhaps that, in other circumstances I can assure you, would be most gratefully received – but would you mind awfully if I didn’t? We’ve had such a fun conversation and great food, plus a bottle of my favourite wine and a puff on one of my three favourite cigars of all time … all at my very willing expense, I might add … but I’m sorry to say that, at my time of life, I fear that something’s got to give. If I’m being perfectly honest, I’d really rather just go straight home alone and hit the sack …”