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The #90’s were my teenage years, and if you too were lucky enough to grow up in the last decade of cool, you will fully understand the nostalgic walk down memory lane I am about to take. Kurt and Courtney were King and Queen of the world. Music was still original and exciting and instead of downloading singles you would have to sit studiously beside the “boombox” with a finger poised over the record button, waiting for the next amazing song to hit the airwaves so it could be recorded onto a cassette and utilized to create a #wicked mix tape of your very own. Underage drinking was a town affair as you congregated in a corn field or down by the river… smoking cigarettes and hash that tasted like petrol… and in the morning you were left wondering how you made it home with only one shoe or why there were small burn holes in your t-shirt… flannel and work pants (pinned at the bottom with #DocMartens for footwear of course). If you were a teenage girl, you were 100% watching the infamous and beloved Friends or Sex and the City or in my case both… and not actually dating but living vicariously through the women who made adult life seem so glamorous even when it was tough.   This is when we began to imagine the FUTURE. The Wonderland of dark haired dreamy humorous sweet gents… orgasms galore… a quaint beautiful loft apartment and amazing… nerdy… beautiful friends that would always understand… had well paying jobs and no commitments or obligations that would impinge on social agendas… And there would be lots of sex… A TON OF IT… CASACADES OF IT!

In your minds eye… sex is what would be happening literally 98% of the time… unless of course you were… eating in a fabulous restaurant… or visiting a gallery opening… or buying shoes…

Well baby…. It ain’t the #90’s anymore…. It is 2016 and my adult life has completely failed to deliver the delicious gifts it once promised. All the dark haired dreamy humorous sweet gents… are either married… have embarked on extended periods of travel… are cheating cads… or must be drinking in a different pub then I do. The housing market has sky rocketed to the extent that one would be lucky to own a garden plot at this rate… and the recession… plummeting dollar… and lack of middle class/well-paying jobs, have all of your friends working 100 hours a week and weekends don’t exist as the work week is now seven days in length, and when you finally do have a few hours… you are so knackered all you want to do is sleep… And there is no sex. None at all.

I am pretty sure sex is over my peoples.

#Coupledup people have stopped having it because now they are married, the honeymoon phase is over… or they are pregnant or post-pregnant and their Britney’s are sporting stiches to hold together their severed genitalia. Or porn… and our generation’s desensitization to sex and sexuality have crushed their libidos. Those in the throws of #singledom have stopped doing it because they have come to realize (after numerous celebrity STD and AIDS scandals) that casual sex is mostly gross. Especially afterwards… when the sweaty stain of a stranger marks your beautiful 900 count bed sheets and the idea that some super sperm might leap through latex and at best cause a pregnancy at worst an STD … and these thoughts running mercilessly through your head impede on any real pleasure being obtained. These massive let downs have made adulthood impossible to navigate. Particularly for a #puma who grew up in the shadows of Rachel Green and Carrie Bradshaw whose iconic pop culture lent absolutely zero blue print to follow, unless one is, of course, indulging in regular one nights stands. It’s a problem my friends.

On a positive note my loverlies… I am an expert at the #celibacy game and I can report that it is actually underrated. I never have to worry about diseases… unwanted pregnancies… failure to orgasm or rejection. I utilize my ENTIRE bed top now as a handy desk where my laptop… iPhone… and copy of Dionne Brand’s “What We All Long For” are at my fingertips… along with a bag of pretzels and a bottle of Steamwhistle… No one wakes you up in the middle of the night taking a piss… snoring… rolling onto your side of the bed or attempting a post-coitus “spoon”. While I can admit that there is obviously some tingly physical excitement missing… it is nothing that scientists say you can’t recreate with spicy foods and a nice long run…

Another bonus to #celibacy… you can stay home and nerd out my loverlies… discover yourself… read… learn something… or just do a Harry Potter Marathon in a pair of boxers and a t-shirt… your body and time are yours! Alternatively, you could go and socialize with the good looking dreamy gent that runs a struggling hotel and try really hard not to be disturbed by the voices in your head telling you that you want to touch his private place or glimpse that broad back naked… #Celibacy does make this kind of social situation slightly more awkward and a little frustrating… and you may even choose not to go just for this reason… But still… If you do venture out…. Remember there is always Presseco…

Who needs a blueprint when life is this simple?

Yours in navigating the 90’s let down…

Franki Figgs

PS… and if you want to challenge yourself… I have been told that #Tantra is both amazing and healing…

~Artist Unknown

 

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