Visions of love

In my freshman year of high school, my friends and I decided that as a joke we were going to make a "lesbian porn video." Seeing as how we were all straight, and didn't want our first sexual experiences to be caught on tape, we had to get creative for the "sex" scenes. The problem was, since we were virgins, none of us knew what sex was supposed to look like. After much deliberation we decided that the most realistic portrayal of sex would be if two people got under the covers flailed their arms and legs and threw clothing out from the bed, while a third person sat under the blanket on her knees bobbing up and down. Needless to say, we were a little off.

Sure, not everyone has had an image of sex that extravagantly wrong growing up, but when we were younger, we all had our misconceptions. Although our notions of sex become more realistic as we gain sexual experience, we continue to be disillusioned about bedroom activities. Our visions include romantic kissing and passionate thrusting; yet fail to address the not-so-desirable dealings that are just as much a part of every sexual encounter. As a result, men and women alike feel tremendous pressure to be sexually perfect.

In movies we see hot, kinky sex that makes houses look as though the Tazmanian devil spun through the living room. But that type of sex is choreographed selective memory. The filmmakers portray the wild romp, but then leave out the footnotes that the man was on Viagra and the woman couldn't walk the next day. Without these footnotes we assume that's how most couples' sex life is, and how ours should be. Having these sorts of expectations makes it easy for us to feel inadequate if our sexual repertoire doesn't include acrobatics. I mean, I know I've never broken a piece of furniture while having sex, so does that make my sex life boring?

And while movies plant the seed of sexual inferiority, we don't get the verification that true sex isn't that perfect from our peers either. When we're talking about sex with our friends, we don't hear about the not-so-pretty aspects of it. Men don't reminisce about the times they couldn't get it up, or got a little too excited a little too quickly. We don't address the weird noises that two sweaty bodies can make, or the very salient issue of how to dispose of sexual fluids.

The sex we talk about and the sex we see is not real. Real sex is deciding when to stop the action to put on the condom. Questions arise such as "Should I put it on, or let him do it?" or "Should I maintain eye contact or stare longingly at his erect manhood?" It's a mouthful of hair when you meant to nibble on her ear or the clinking of teeth when you try to kiss. Real sex is lots of "that wasn't supposed to happen" moments, all the while trying to maintain some level of sensuality about the whole affair.

Movies lie, and people systematically avoid discussing the more awkward moments of sex. But it is completely normal if things go wrong, and that doesn't make you a bad lover. We don't expect to be perfect in any other aspect of life, and the bedroom should be no exception.

In order to be sexually confident, we have to accept our occasional shortcomings, and rework our idea of what sex should include. Sex is messy, sweaty, and at times uncomfortable. But that's why it's so intimate: because it makes you so vulnerable, you're sharing the awkward moments as well as the good ones.

What's funny is that as na??ve as my 13-year-old concept of sex was, in ways it was more realistic than the expectations I developed later. At least at 13 I understood that ironically, many things that happen during sex aren't really that "sexy" at all.