More than half of women have been embarrassed by their unflattering underwear while they have sexual intercourse, a recent survey suggests.
Nine out of ten of the one thousand women polled said that if they told their boyfriend or husband they were wearing special lingerie, he instigated sex. Well, that must be true.
Almost thirty years ago Quartet published Les Nouveau Pauvres – a book which claimed that some members of the aristocracy were so poor that their underwear was normally in tatters as they could ill-afford to spend their limited budget on pampering their private parts which they claimed was rarely seen by their lovers. When on a date, they ensured that their knickers were taken off with a brisk movement and whipped into their handbags out of sight, preserving their much cherished secret.
However, things have dramatically changed during the last three decades. The emphasis is now on sex wherever you look. Women even go to a special hairdresser to fashion their pubic hair. Nothing is sold or advertised without the hint of some sexual gratification. Women show more of their flesh than ever before. Even the hidden parts are embellished to make them more desirable, hence lingerie today plays a significant role in the art of seduction. This trade is flourishing and the more daring it becomes the less inhibitions women demonstrate.
We have all become sexual voyeurs who revel in stealing a peep at a woman negotiating a taxi seat when more often she either accidentally or deliberately shows a naked bottom or widely spread legs for the benefit of a hungry bunch of paparazzi who then rush to sell their wares to the media.
‘Sex sells’ is the motto, for the rewards can be immense. Liberalism has taken a step forward in matters of the flesh. We even marry people of the same gender in order to prove equality in all things however preposterous.
Where are we heading next? Are we likely through medical advancement to impregnate a man? Nothing seems beyond the realms of possibility now that we are even talking about voyages to Mars and possibly beyond.
As my own life is reaching its twilight years I dread to think what future generations will endure or concoct in order to conquer and discover uncharted territories, reshape our bodies or even unwittingly destroy the universe in what we call the Big Bang.
So our obsession with sex is perhaps more recreational than we are led to believe. The less we dramatise it the less harmful its consequences. Those who shag themselves silly will no doubt have the last laugh.