Sex in Berlin

I know why people read this blog...Because of the sex. Well, I am here to pander to those so-called baser instincts. I visited the Museum of Eroticism in Berlin, and boy have I learned stuff.

The museum is mostly about pedagogical information. Confusingly, it also presents a collection of antique erotica and paraphenalia. There's a sex shop on the ground floor with very nice and helpful salesladies, in case you didn't understand the exhibition section on toys.



An 18th century dildo, in ivory. It's very decorative!



The BDSM section was not very informative. It was mostly a photo op ploy, with sniggering tourists taking pictures of themselves within or around the contraptions. I didn't like the way this was shown at all.




As usual, my photos are atrocious but to be fair, the lighting was bad.



The two great things about the informative sections were how homosexual sex was always included in the videos, not as a separate thing. So for "kissing" or "erotic massage" you would see gay couples as well as straight ones. There were interracial couples shown as well. A whole wall of plaster molds of penises and vaginas was titled "every size is right" which I also thought a good message. Surprisingly the snickering tourists usually went silent in front of the wall, maybe busy comparing themselves to the different models.

A safe sex video was well-made, with STD descriptions and a catalogue of symptoms. Very non-judgemental.

Finally, a bit of hands-on action with the following photo where you can see a German incitation to look for and feel the G-spot. Two mannequins with realistic inner body parts were shown, one for women and one for men. I enjoyed how sheepish the tourists look when looking for where the prostate was. For all their swagger, they seemed very ignorant.






This was about how nature looks sexual. Cue pictures of rocks.

Finally, a bit of information on how to understand men and women. The museum really went against the usual clichés, and refusing the submissive woman/aggressive man dichotomy.

All in all, I thought the museum was odd but useful in its way. People go there for the giggle factor but will probably leave slightly less clueless.

talking about sex

Do you talk about sex with your family? With your friends? With your colleagues?

If you look at my sidebar, you will see I read blogs that occasionally talk about sex, and not in an abstract way, in a this-was-last-night way. I don't read them because of the content, per se, I read them because of the voice of the person writing. Because they are not judging me. Or themselves. Or anyone. Just enjoying their life.

I don't think sex is a very intimate subject to write about. It can be, of course. Any topic, skillfully explored, can lead to honest, revealing words. But the topic itself doesn't strike me as more intimate than talking about work problems, or how your children are coping with changing schools, or how much you hate your cousin.

I wonder why, then, is sex considered so taboo, so "dangerous" to write about on a public or anonymous platform. Why people will judge others according to their tastes. Food writers complain that when they criticize some species of asparagus they get endless hate mail, so the Internet is probably full of insane, angry people, regardless of the topic.

But then I don't consider sex "naughty". Or "nice". Or "vanilla". Or "non-vanilla". I don't even understand such distinctions, and why people enjoy the labelling Maybe they like to be thought liberated and edgy. I would go with Oscar Wilde here, who so aptly said that "There is no such thing as a moral or an immoral book. Books are well written or badly written. That is all."
I think the same of sex.

I don't like talking about sex with people because of the labelling. Because sometimes people who tell me about their sexual practices expect me to react in some way: shocked maybe, because I am very conventional outwardly, or perhaps jealous.

I'm sure there is a better way of talking about it.

Lonely

Well, I've always been a lonesome cowgirl. Struggling with it all, to tell the truth. Never sure if I was OK with being lonesome, or on the contrary haunted by my potential loss.
For the first time in years, I feel lonely.

I miss you. I miss being able to tell you everything, trusting in your loving affection. I miss kissing you for no reason, miss having sex with you, miss the nightly comfort of your body against mine. I miss you a lot. But I don't want you back.

I just want to stop missing you.