date machine : helen Mirren

Sex Machine: Sex With Older Women, or How I Would Make Love to Gloria Swanson

amboabe — Thu, 18 Dec 2008 04:13:00 GMT

Last week Zeitgeisty posted a delightful picture of wrinkled and saggy Helen Mirren splashing around in the ocean in one of the mystical beach locales where celebrities go to be photographed by paparazzi. Helen Mirren is a beautiful woman, and seeing her disrobed at an age when sexuality is generally considered vulgar, made me smile. Of all the cultural fairytales we tell each other, the idea that sex between older people is somehow inferior to the nubile strains of the twenty-something set is one that frightens me most. I can imagine at least a dozen other celebrities more appealing than the aged Helen Mirren, but I don't know if I'd rather sleep with any of them.

Sexuality is such a visual phenomenon in America. It's the insinuating curves in perfume ads and the conveniently covered nipple on the cover of Maxim. Sex is the clown-faced pantomime of Samantha on Sex & the City, a performance done for the camera, whose lingering presence makes us feel more desirable. Physical symmetry and "hotness" are the social marching orders; we must seek them out, assimilate to their styles and comportment in magazines and on TV, then feel grateful we've found someone young enough and symmetrical enough to inspire envy. Who would envy someone walking around with a slinky sixty-one year-old on their arm? Who could even stomach the thought of a sixty-one year old in the literal act of ecstasy?

I watched Sunset Boulevard last weekend and was reminded of a theoretical flesh crawl with an older woman. Gloria Swanson is beautiful in that movie. Her role is a demented loon whose romantic attachment to William Holden is buffoonish, like some kind of ghoul parading around the land of young attractive people without any sense of shame. Her character's tragic flaw is that she can't accept her own age; she refuses to trade the indulgent vanities of her youth for something more age-appropriate. The way Gloria Swanson attacks the role, clawing at her surroundings with wide-eyed delusion, is extraordinary.

The part of Norma Desmond is insane, but the woman playing the role is dashing. Watching Gloria Swanson act circles around a slack-jawed William Holden, I felt charmed. When she slipped her arm through his while watching her old movies in the living room, I felt a jealous tingle on my leg. William Holden squirmed with discomfort at the idea of a fifty year-old woman's advances. The opportunity was wasted on him. The things I would have done with that hand in my lap, sitting beside someone so alluringly capable and in command of themselves.

Is there an alternative for Norma Desmond that isn't a patronizing dismissal? Is there a way for her to lead a sane life without having to sacrifice her life force and vivacity on some tubby butler? Do older people abdicate the right to be open about their physical and sexual needs because of the slackening of their skins and the onset of bunions? I hope not.

When I'm old I imagine my hunger for body and closeness will remain, even if my hard-on might have to go on meds to keep pace. I can see myself visiting my grown children, staying in the strange sheets of her or his guest room, listening to the eerie quiet of an unfamiliar neighborhood in a strange city. In that room I can imagine myself turning to my post-menopausal partner, taking her speckled hand, with its knots of blue-green veins, and putting it around the back of my head as I follow my salivary divining rod to that most indignant of all god's creations: the geriatric vagina. She looks like Gloria Swanson in my head.

Previous Posts:

Love Machine: Using Your Words, or I Like Pap

Date Machine: Drunk Emailing with J, or How To Fail at Seduction

Sex Machine: Listening to the Neighbors Have Sex

Date Night: In Which I Try To Believe In Aliens

Date Machine: Rate My Pick-Up Lines Redux

Love Machine: Loyal as a Dog

Date Machine: Rate My Politics

High School Machine: Ten-Year Reunion Fantasies

Date Machine: Setting Up Your Friends

Sex Machine: Having Sex at Weddings Redux

Love Machine: Making Love to ESPN

Date Machine: 5 Things I'm Thankful For

Sex Machine: Having Sex at Weddings

Love Machine: What Work Is

Sex Machine: Sleeping Naked

Love Machine: Breaking Up in a Text Message

Date Night: The F U Date

Sex Machine: Shave My Bush

Love Machine: Taking A Break From Dating

Date Machine: The Celebrity You Most Resemble

Sex Machine: I Kissed A Boy

Vote Machine: No Gay People Can't

Sex Machine: Let's Have an Orgy

Sex Machine: My First STD

Sex Machine: There's a Possibility You've Been Infected With HIV

Crying In Public: Some Corner in Brooklyn

Celebrity Confessions: Boy George plus Nerve Confession: Boy Miserable

airheadgenius — Thu, 11 Sep 2008 04:34:00 GMT

It's my "Celebrity Confession" day, (err, well wednesday was and it's now thursday, Oops) but I must first confess that it's not my bag. I have a decade old TV attached to a DVD player for my children, but there's no cable and we don't even get the free channels. Once in a while, I watch online shows, but TV isn't really my thing. (Except when I am in Blighty when I overdose on it.) And I only read gossip magazines once every 6 months when I am getting my hair cut. I saw the Helen Mirren confession last week because it was in The Guardian.

Perez Hilton need not sweat in other words.

But, I do remember a confession from back in the day. When dear Boy George as he was being questioned about his sexuality and it hadn't yet become fashionable to be gay or bi, said "Sex? I'd rather have a cup of tea."

Which neatly (in my mind at least) segways into Nerve's Confession of the Day:

Is it permissible to not be out there having sex? It seems not.

We are all supposed to be dressed up (or dressed down Williamsburg wannabes) lipsticked and high heeled, if applicable, and out on the town. Flirting with boys, kissing with girls, fingers in arses, tongues in salads. Basically having a rare old raunchy time.

Back in the day, growing up in a town of 20,000 people, no one was ridiculed for not having a boyfriend or girlfriend. I guess it was an accepted fact that there were only so many people to meet in any given week and you couldn't shag all of them. An extended dry spell might raise a few guffaws, but in general it was "allowed".

But in this technological age, there's no excuse. There's Internet dating doncha know? Permanent access to new and exciting people across the globe. Even if you live in East Bumblefuck and there's only one other dater in the vicinity, there's no excuse not to be logged on and having phone sex with someone in a different state. And if you're in New York, LA or London where bodies are a plenty, then you must be some kinda desperate sad sack if you're sat home cutting your toenails.

The pressure is most definitely on.

Now I like dating - well, at least beyond the first date when you've met someone you like and the excitement is building. I like relationships. I really like to have sex. But some days I just can't be bothered. As a 40 year old woman though (actually 41, but that's a story for another day) I am comfortable with myself. If someone was to ridicule my sex life, I'd tell them to do one.

Why does this guy have to pretend to be a player? Maybe he would prefer to be having a cup of tea. Make that cawfee.

Maybe we all need to give each other a break and acknowledge that being home alone doesn't mean you are unattractive or unappealing, but rather that you are a discerning individual comfortable enough in your own skin to opt out. And if your friends tease you for your temporary celibacy and they are under 30, fuck 'em - get new friends. If your friends tease you and they're over 30, get them a few therapy sessions, cos they could surely use the help.

Would someone pass me the clippers...

Dick Trilogy Part 3 MORE dicks in my inbox Dicks in your inbox Read my Sodding Profile! Nerve Confessions: Herpes The Queen Confesses The Arse Man Cometh The Ass Play Chronicles The Sandwich Blowjob Porn Connection Bangin Ass Deformed Dicks Did I really dream that? Why I don't date Celebrities Fashionably late or just a slacker

Celebrity Confessions: The Queen!

airheadgenius — Wed, 03 Sep 2008 22:21:00 GMT

Well, sort of the Queen, but more like Helen Mirren. An article in The Guardian a few days back explained why she gave up snorting coke. She was quoted as saying:

"And I read that in the paper, and all the cards fell into place and I saw how my little sniff of cocaine at a party had an absolute direct route to this fucking horrible man in South America. And from that day I never touched cocaine again. Until that moment I had never grasped the full horrifying structure of what brings coke to our parties in Britain."

How honorable!!! Giving up hedonistic enjoyment to spare those poor child drug runners and to stop making a horrible man even richer! What a woman. Did she simultaneously switch to fair trade coffee and start recycling? Maybe a percentage of her earnings goes to poor Indian children?

She was quoted in GQ too. There, she said that she was was locked in a room and forced to have sex "a couple of times" during her college days but did not report the incidents because "you couldn't do that in those days".

"It's such a tricky area, isn't it? Especially if there is no violence," "I mean, look at Mike Tyson. I don't think he was a rapist. I guess it is one of the many subtle parts of the men/women relationship that has to be negotiated and worked out between them."

She went on: "I was [date-raped], yes. A couple of times. "Not with excessive violence, or being hit, but rather being locked in a room and made to have sex against my will."

The actress also explained that she "loved coke" [cocaine] during her younger days but stopped after learning of the drug-dealing success of Nazi war criminal Klaus Barbie.

First of all, she was concerned about some nasty South American. Now she's got her knickers in a twist about Klaus Barbie. The two quotes were all but interchangeable though. Does she think the two are connected?? Was Klaus on his holidays or something and set up a drug cartel because he was bored of making sand castles?

(What is mind blowing is that if you google dear Klaus, the FIRST hit is Helen Mirren. Nothing to do with his Nazi war crimes, but all to do with some daft bint from England!)

But forget about the drug thing, what about the date rape thing?! Oh yes Hels, date rape is most certainly one of those little subtle nuances of behaviour between the male and the female. Oh yes indeedy. What a tool.

And let's not forget, way back when, that HM got her kit off in those Peter Greenaway movies. She claimed over and over again that she only embraced nudity in film if it was central to the theme and not in any way gratuitous.

I don't care about celebrity behaviour. It makes no difference to my life. It just irritates me when their baser instincts are elevated to celebrity status also. Like, I gave up doing drugs because it was affecting my work and I couldn't afford to get fired. She did it for the greater good.

Her ludicrous confessions are the latest in a long long line though. Remember these? "I tried marijuana once, I did not inhale." Well then, dear Bill, that was a bit of a waste of effort wasn't it?

or

"I did not have sexual relations with that woman." Again, barely worth the scandal if you're not even going to get your end away.

Why can't Mirren just fess up and say "I like getting stoned, I like getting laid and I like getting my tits out for the lads" and be done with it. And why couldn't Bill simply have said "I get stoned to cope with Hilary who happens to be a man and that's why I fucked Monica" and we would have all just said "of course you had to Bill, it would've been rude not to."

Here endeth my celebrity confession.

Talk dirty to me!!! - Plus the Daily Throb...

zeitgeisty — Wed, 03 Sep 2008 15:43:00 GMT

Right off the bat, let me state for the record I'm a big fan of the randy, ribald, filthy, sleazy dirty talk during the act of sex - that is… as long as I'm not the one that has to do the talking.

In all my relationships, there's just never been any parity as far as that's concerned. I don't really know why this is, as I'm quite verbose. I'll gladly chatter on like a mina bird at length on any number of topics, yet for some reason I clam up 'in the clinch'. That's not to say I'm totally mute, I mean I do a lot of moaning, 'oh god-ing', and such, I just never really get into specifics.

I guess when it comes to talking in the sack, I'm more 'Rain Man' than 'Baudelaire'...

'uh oh... 5 minutes to coming... 5 minutes to coming... uh oh'

I suppose this is all terribly unfair, but hopefully I make up for it in the nuts and bolts.

This is why I've never been a big 'phone sex' guy. First off, I hate talking on the phone under any circumstance. I hate the sound of my voice, and I just wind up grunting banalities like...

'aw yeah baby..' …or the ultra clichéd

'What are you doing right now?'

Truly, I'm a lame dirty talker.

Still, I expect it out of my partner. I enjoy hearing that torrent of filth spewing out of her mouth whilst we make the beast with two backs. Of course once you've been in a relationship awhile, the dialogue does tend to become a bit on the predictable side. That's OK though, I mean, if I enjoy a movie, I'll see that fucker like a hundred times and never get bored.

All this being said, one arena in which I excel or rather, used to excel - as I'm currently in a relationship - is cyber sex.

As a writer, the venue is particularly suited to my sensibilities. I mean what other way can you get off whilst practicing your prose? All my skills are put to the test, as my one hand types away furiously like the main character in ‘My Left Foot’ - only with more drool, and perversion. Women on the other hand tend to prefer the phone sex, as they're always whining about how it's too difficult to diddle themselves while typing.

I never had this problem as I'm an excellent multi-tasker – especially when it comes to masturbation.

I guess when I think about it, I'm pretty selfish when it comes to the 'sauces and pickles' related to sex. For one thing, I've never once taken a nude photo of myself, yet I've happily received a few over the years from some kind and willing models I've known. I always would feel guilty about this unfair disparity - of course this never prevented me from accepting the generous offerings.

Now that I'm in a relationship, all this stuff makes you wonder...

Who else has she said these things to? What other photos of her are floating around the electric corridors of the internets? If you think about it, all of this tertiary sex play is even more personal than the act itself! I mean, the mechanics of sex are pretty standard - it’s everything else that goes along with it that makes it unique. The ‘sauces and pickles’…

I guess these are thoughts we all push to the backs of our brains, like that horrifying snippet of the 'boy with the 160 pound tumor' I accidentally landed on while channel surfing the other day.

It's just not anything you want to think about.

I guess there are dimensions to everything, and layers that don't need to be delved into. Who knows... Maybe that's why I just shut my mouth and moan.

the succulent Helen Mirren...actress and GILF-alicious Brit...

In case you missed it... The Zeitgeisty Chronicles Archived.

I abstain! The fear to fuck

The unvarnished TRUTH about dating on the internet.

BITE ME!!!

Pontifications on the bangin' of ass - The ANAL file

The brass ring