Sex
Verbal embraces
Marriage, or partnership, depends on how urgently and wittily people continue to talk to each other.
What was the last movie you saw in which people fell in love because of the way they talked? I don’t mean simply to each other, but the way they used words, and how that usage reflected on such things as spirit and soul, as well as knowledge and experience. I mean the saving interplay of sadness and humor; the poetic grace or fancy that can deliver a compliment better than a caress. I mean an essential tenderness toward the cadence and sound of language — let syntax look after itself sometimes. Much as, early on in a relationship, we might only want to make love to and with the other person, surely words will have their hour and their lifetime. Marriage, I suggest, or partnership, depends on how urgently and wittily people continue to talk to each other. It is, if you like, the difference between saying (in the middle of a night or the middle of a relationship), “The field marshal sometimes forgets what he wanted to say when standing at attention,” and facing the blunt bathroom wall advertisement “9 inches of hot metal. Fucks forever.”
And I think I’m correct in saying that what gets most of us around the bases isn’t mere attraction or sexual urge. It’s the talk that makes a path, the feeble jokes, the better one; all couples need to learn humor. I am hesitant in raising education, but even “9 inches” will never face a greater need for schooling than finding ways to woo, or finding arguments to open some intransigent entrance. (Just call him or her “an intransigent entrance” — it’s so unexpected — and you may be halfway home.) I don’t guarantee it, but the thing most people are most denied in life is not actually sex or orgasm — we help ourselves. It’s being well talked to, in a way that persuades you the other person wants to know you. Never forget the second word in “carnal knowledge.”
I mean, it’s like “Come on, Flopsy,” which I saw and heard last night on television, and which seemed to me a beautiful, amorous, erotic line. No, as it happens, it didn’t come from one of the great screwball comedies of the ’30s and ’40s, those films where men and women fenced in sentences, gently, pointedly, never actually saying “fuck,” but pursuing the innate playfulness of talk. Sometimes the first “embrace” is talking on top of what someone else says — by that measure, “His Girl Friday” is all wrestling.
No, this is a more recent film, and film buffs may even scold me when I admit what it was. But watching it again last night, I saw how thoroughly it believed in the odd things people actually say — the care, the politeness, the sympathy with which they choose words for other nervous creatures to hear and understand.
She says, “Come on, Flopsy” to him one night in a deserted London. They are an odd couple, yet talk has cleared away awkwardness. He is a failure, she’s not, so to speak, and she has learned that he was called “Flopsy” at school. Not very masculine. And as they find a lovely, enclosed park, he is too shy or timid to climb over. Until she goes first and then tosses the line back over her shoulder, “Come on, Flopsy,” and he is there beside her. They will make love later. The line has allowed it: its intimacy, its laughing away of crass labels, its promise of ease to come. And, yes, of course, “Come on” is not exactly deflating.
It’s “Notting Hill,” with Julia Roberts and Hugh Grant. If you give the whole film a chance, and forgive the flagrantly idyllic ending, it’s about grown-ups trying to be more grown-up. I watched it with my son, an American, and he noticed, “English people tease each other a lot.” “Yes,” I said, “it’s a sign of affection.” Come on, Flopsy. A man might sail around the world with that encouragement.
David Thomson is the author of "A Biographical Dictionary of Film" (new edition just published), "Rosebud: The Story of Orson Welles" and "In Nevada." More David Thomson.
Massage therapists rubbed wrong by sex talk
A Jennifer Love Hewitt show and the Travolta allegations have masseuses tired of being confused for sex workers
(Credit: iStockphoto/sybanto) Joe, a licensed massage therapist, knows what it’s like having a famous client who expects something extra. He had an Academy Award-winning actor begin gyrating on his massage table before raising his hips in the air to show off his erection. “He was hoping that I would play with him in some shape or form,” he says.
Needless to say, Joe isn’t surprised by allegations by two masseurs that John Travolta got handsy during massages. (Travolta’s attorney has denied all the allegations, and called them “ridiculous.”) “It happens all the time,” he says, and not just with celebrity clients. He frequently encounters men who try to fondle him, usually while he’s working on their glutes or lower back and their hand happens to be level with his crotch. “They think they’re so original, but they’re all so much the same,” Joe says, his voice rising. “They all use the same tactics, the same body movements, the same gyrations and grinding my table, the [heavy] breathing.”
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Tracy Clark-Flory is a staff writer at Salon. Follow @tracyclarkflory on Twitter. More Tracy Clark-Flory.
A night at the vibrator museum
Early vibrators were hand-cranked, two-person jobs -- and prescribed by doctors. How far we've come since then
(Credit: Antique Vibrator Museum) I can now say that I’ve used a turn-of-the-century vibrator — on my hand, but still.
The silver, hand-cranked contraption is usually kept behind glass at Good Vibrations’ Antique Vibrator Museum in San Francisco — but staff sexologist Carol Queen made a rare exception. “This is very special,” she whispered, unlocking the case and carefully pulling out Dr. Johansen’s Auto Vibrator, a relic from 1904. The “auto” part is not so much: It was a two-person job, with her having to crank the device’s handle to get it thrumming. Pressing my finger tips to its inch-wide circular platform of pleasure, I was pleasantly surprised by its power.
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Tracy Clark-Flory is a staff writer at Salon. Follow @tracyclarkflory on Twitter. More Tracy Clark-Flory.
Maggie Gyllenhaal on sexual liberation
The beloved indie star tells Salon about her "vibrator movie" and why she loves playing transgressive women
Maggie Gyllenhaal (Credit: Reuters/Mark Blinch) When I met Maggie Gyllenhaal about six weeks ago, she was enormously and gloriously pregnant, stretching out on a sofa with her shoes off and feet up in a Manhattan office building. (Since that time, Gyllenhaal and husband Peter Sarsgaard have welcomed their second daughter, Gloria Ray, to the world.) We were there to talk about “Hysteria,” the charming, lightweight feminist farce from director Tanya Wexler that explores a key event in the history of female sexuality: the invention of the vibrator by Mortimer Granville, a Victorian doctor who was seeking to cure the mysterious “female malady” that lends the movie its title.
Continue Reading CloseMother-daughter sexperts
Susie Bright and her daughter, Aretha, make parental talks about sex look easy -- and fun
Most parents loathe talking to their kids about the birds and the bees, let alone pubic hair grooming, faked orgasms and “water sports” — but most parents are not legendary “sexpert” Susie Bright.
Better than talking about these things, she penned an advice column in 2009 with her daughter, Aretha, then 19, for the ladyblog Jezebel. Their answers to questions about everything from porn to Paxil were unflinching but playful, and at times controversial. Now the pair have collected those columns into a new e-book, “Mother/Daughter Sex Advice.” Together, they read as an irreverent version of “Our Bodies, Ourselves” for the Internet age. The mother-daughter team also reflect on what the experience of writing the column was like, and it turns out it wasn’t as weird as many would think: For the most part, it was just a continuation of conversations they had been having throughout Aretha’s life.
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Tracy Clark-Flory is a staff writer at Salon. Follow @tracyclarkflory on Twitter. More Tracy Clark-Flory.
On the rack: A cultural history of breasts
Did breasts evolve for lactation or to enhance sex appeal? A new book explores why they matter
(Credit: iStockphoto/NadyaPhoto) It’s hard to be boobs. Sure, breasts are cherished as givers of milk and the pinnacle of sex appeal, but the modern world hasn’t been good to mammaries.
As Florence Williams writes in “Breasts: A Natural and Unnatural History,” they’re the most tumor-prone organ in the human body. They “soak up pollution like a pair of soft sponges,” and transmit environmental toxins to babies through breast milk. “Breasts are bellwethers for the changing health of people,” she says. While we’ve “genetically modified our crops to be able to protect them from the ill effects of pesticides,” Williams writes, “we haven’t yet figured out how to modify our breasts.” Aside from using saline and silicone, of course.
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Tracy Clark-Flory is a staff writer at Salon. Follow @tracyclarkflory on Twitter. More Tracy Clark-Flory.
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