Sex, Love and Brooklyn: One Full-Body Orgasm, Please!

11/25/2013 1:58 PM |

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You know what I love? I love a really awkward moviegoing experience. My first cringe-worthy occurrence was accidentally seeing The Piano Teacher with my father when I was sixteen. For those of you unfamiliar with it, I will say it is still the most graphic and disturbing movie I have ever seen—there is a scene with dirty Kleenexes and a porno booth—and that’s all I’m going to say. Well, one more thing, you should also be warned, there is genital mutilation. Just as the movie started, my dad turned to me and said, “You didn’t tell me this was gonna be in French.”

It was all downhill from there.

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When I was 23, I went to a 70s-era, 3D porno at the Sunshine with a bunch of my co-workers. We thought it was going to be a riot and even brought umbrellas to open during the money-shot, Rocky Horror-style. Then the movie started. Bizarrely, every single one of us collectively slouched down into our seats. We were all thinking, “Holy shit, I’m watching porn with Bob from HR. And he’s having way too good a time.”

You’d think I would’ve learned my lesson. But no. Not at all. And that’s why I thought it would be a good idea to go on a date to see Blue Is The Warmest Color.

The truth is, I’ve been holding out on you guys. I’ve actually been seeing someone for a couple of months now, and the movie was going to be our fifth or sixth date. I really like him. He’s a funny, smart, and charming film critic—who also seemed very kind. But each and every time we got to fooling around, he drew a blank in the bedroom. It wasn’t his fault and it wasn’t my fault either. I wish to God it had been someone’s fault, though, because then we could have fixed it and moved on. But alas, something just wasn’t clicking between us when we got between the sheets.

He told me he had watched a lot of porn as a teenager, but had weened himself off this habit as an adult. This could have been a vulnerable confession on his part, and maybe I should have been more sympathetic, but all I heard was “I don’t understand how to relate to real women, and so I have a hard time getting turned on by you.” I suggested that maybe we watch porn together, but he vehemently declined. He said he was too embarrassed.

Not one to be discouraged however, I decided that this “film buff” and I needed to see this new, super-erotic lesbian movie, complete with a 7-minute sex scene. If he didn’t have a boner after that, then God help him, because there was nothing left I could do.

I must have spent the past three weeks under a rock, because I promise you that going into this movie all I knew was that there was a very graphic 7-minute lesbian sex scene. I had heard nothing about the actresses’, Lea Seydoux and Adele Exarchopoulos, outrage over their working conditions. I didn’t know that they felt exploited and would not ever again work with the director, Abdellatif Kechiche. I’d heard nothing about the graphic novelist, Julie Maroh, (whose work the movie is based on) stating that what the film had needed was “real” lesbians on set. And finally, I had heard nothing about how the whole state of Iowa won’t even show the movie. I was just ready to sit next to my man in a dark theatre watching the only type of “blue” flick he wasn’t too embarrassed to see with me.

And here’s the thing, I loved the sex scenes in the movie. Having slept with women as well as men, I felt they were an honest depiction of sex—not even specifically lesbian sex, but of the kind of sex you have with the first person you fall in love with. The first sex is the kind that eats away at you long after you’re done eating out the other person. It’s the kind of sex where you’re glad you can still smell your partner on you when you go home.

Let’s just say I got the sex scenes and didn’t have a problem with them.

However, I did have a problem with a very minor character named Joachim. Joachim is a predatory gallery owner who tries to seduce everyone in his path. In one scene at a garden party, he waxes on and on about the mystical female orgasm, and how it’s the life force for the whole world. All the lesbians around him laugh and nod in approval. I think this was the biggest clue into the director’s predatory male gaze. And, in fact, the lead actress Adele, was quoted as saying in the New Yorker, “Kechiche is ‘obsessed,’ with women … observing them, solving their ‘mystery.’”

Gag me.

However, after the movie, I discovered my seduction plan had worked: my date was fired up, ready to go home and hit the hay. We started to fool around, but then he paused and told me he would “really like it if I could have a full body orgasm. You know like those girls did in the movie.”

Taken aback, I said, “I can have an orgasm… if that’s what you’re asking?”

He then went on to share with me that the one woman who truly knocked his socks off was a dancer from Vegas who had “full body orgasms.” I couldn’t help myself and asked, “Were you dating Elizabeth Berkely?”
Really, though, I wanted to find out more about what he thought a female orgasm was like. He said, “You know, like in the movie tonight, it’s mystical.” I let out possibly the biggest sigh of my life, possibly bigger than any orgasm moan I’ve ever made, and I fell back against my pillow.

For so many years we’ve had to convince the whole world that women could even have orgasms, and now men want to turn it into something so big it seems unachievable and even inhuman. I’ve had wonderful, crazy, rollicking orgasms, and I’ve had itty bitty, little quakes, and sometimes I haven’t even had any, but I almost always have a good time no matter what. However, asking me to perform some kind of orgasm myth for you is really going to take all the joy out of our hook up for me. The point I’m trying to make is, each and every person’s orgasm is like a little snowflake—unique and special; so please don’t compare my climax face to another woman’s. And, for God’s sake, don’t expect that when I come it’s gonna be like the second coming and I’ll unleash the life force that created the world.

I can barely work my coffee maker.

Follow Lacy Warner on twitter @laceoface

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