ARE WE PORN THIS WAY?

“The problem with the young ones is that they get all their moves from porn!” said a girl friend of mine at dinner the other day. “They have no idea what a girl wants and they think they have to try the most ridiculous positions. You have to hold them still and tell them to calm down. Take it easy. This isn’t how people have sex in the real world.”

I was amused to hear that. My boyfriend and I try things out from porn quite often. It’s not like we systematically go through every move we’ve seen, but it definitely influences our ‘real world’ sex. I can tell exactly what kind of porn he’s been watching when the style changes, new phrases creep into the dirty talk or the tempo quickens to match some of our favourite genres.

And why not? Those directors didn’t spend years honing their cinematographic skills only to have them wasted on unappreciative audiences. Those actors aren’t there to be misunderstood in their time or ignored in their art.

Society’s disapproval of porn makes me angry, in fact. Why is it considered so scandalous to enjoy watching people have sex? Why do people talk about it in hushed tones as if only degenerates or those who are deeply unhappy watch it? Many straight couples, from what I can tell, consider it a betrayal of trust. You couldn’t possibly love me and find other people hot, goes the bizarre logic. It means I’m not enough for you. Conservatives hide behind ‘family values’ or religion, but actually they just don’t want anyone else to have a good time.

When South Africa’s proposed porn channel was banned, I was ready to take to the streets in protest. It’s not that I’m so into porn that I want to die on my sword for it. But the principle really pisses me off. If you don’t want to watch something, then don’t watch it. There’s no need to go banning things all over the place. This isn’t North Korea.

But my friend’s comment did remind me that porn, and the techniques propagated in it, is perhaps not hugely enjoyable for girls. Conventional wisdom dictates that girls are less visual when it comes to sex, after all. They don’t find porn all that fascinating because their sexuality is more about emotion than abs, and who is doing the moves is more important than what they are.

I have never dated a girl for long enough to know if that’s true (my longest sexual liaison with a girl having lasted exactly not one instant) but I would imagine that, as with all generalisations, there are plenty of people for whom it is not. My hunch is that women are more afraid of admitting to sexual fantasies because we live in a patriarchal society in which women are shamed and men are celebrated for the same sexual acts.

And to be sure, there are some brands of porn that degrade women. Ted Bundy famously blamed violent pornography for his descent into serial killing. But most porn isn’t violent, and most people who watch it aren’t serial killers.

Most porn is just light-hearted sexual fun and plain old escapism. It helps provide sexual release to the frustrated, lonely and bored. It’s an excuse to marvel at the beautiful human form, an exercise in imagination and fantasy and sometimes, when the lines and acting are particularly bad, a good laugh. It may not provide the best blue-print for healthy, happy relationships, but nor do most Hollywood movies – and at least porn doesn’t pretend to be about love.

It’s especially infuriating that gay porn is considered more scandalous than the straight kind. If anything, gay porn is less dangerous because it doesn’t riff off the same patriarchal power structure. You can’t take any lessons from it about how to treat men, because both (or all) roles are being played by them. Even if you like it rough, both abuser and abusee in the fantasy are the same sex. No one group of people is portrayed as powerless.

Gay culture’s embrace of pornography, however, is killing the art of flirtation. Guys send each other cock shots as hellos on dating sites these days, when a friendly smile or witty comment used to break the ice. A friend of mine received a message on social media the other day, from someone he had never laid eyes on before, that read as follows (and I quote it verbatim):

“I wanna be your cum-dump, bubble-butt, bottom boi”

The alliteration is quite poetic, I suppose. And it’s always flattering to know that you exude the kind of raw sexual magnetism in your profile picture that makes people say things like that to you, unprovoked. But what the hell kind of message is that? Are we really speaking like that to one another now? Is that how we seduce and charm? Lines like that are ridiculous enough in porn, but when they’re used without even knowing what someone looks like in the flesh, without even the shallow intimacy of actually being in bed with them – hhayibo! It’s so unbelievably tacky. It’s so transactional and entitled.

And therein lies the one problem with porn. It is objectifying. And objectification has a nasty edge to it.

Because we’re all men, that objectification isn’t offensive or unequally distributed. And there is nothing wrong with appreciating, being or playing with a delicious sexual object every now and again. But when it becomes all we see in others, and all we think we have to offer when striking up a conversation – that is depressingly dehumanising.

Perhaps there’s some truth in what my friend said, after all. While we disagree about the recreational appeal of porn-style sex in real life, I have to agree with her that if it shouldn’t be the only kind of sex on offer. It’s healthy to have, watch and play out sexual fantasies, and to loosen up about porn. It’s also healthy to remember that it’s another human you’re having sex with, and they probably have more to offer than some badly scripted lines and awkward, camera-friendly moves.