Ohmigod, it’s upon us, the annual day of romantic intimidation, Valentine’s Day. February the 14th is murder for blokes. There they are, bug-eyed, cold sweat dappling their foreheads, desperately motoring from shop to shop, hunting for the elusive perfect gift.
The scary thing about Valentine’s Day, is that your pressie will be examined with beady-eyed scrutiny. For many women the gift isn’t just that, it’s a statement about your relationship. Blokes, poor things, are wise to this. Give your significant other the wrong present and you’re in big trouble. If you’re lucky, there’ll be a fleeting look of disappointment and moist-eyed melancholy. If you really make a balls of it, there’ll be gnashing of teeth and possibly grievous bodily harm. Forget it and you’ll be sleeping on the sofa. Either way, unless you get the pitch right, you won’t be getting laid.
All this romantic pressure means that some of us are having less sex on Valentine’s Day than at any other point in the year. This is a sorry state of affairs. Possible even a national emergency. Something has to be done. Thoughtful girl that I am, I figured this week’s column should be all about blokes. If the woman in your life is the type who might throw the heart-shaped chocolates back at you with a look of disgust, this is to remind her – in advance! – of the things that really matter.
Men often get bad press. We call you uncaring, unromantic, heartless bastards. But we know that’s not really true. With the possible exception of Colin Farrell. Blokes will take out the trash, kill spiders, clean gutters and stare meaningfully at seized up engines. And as if this wasn’t enough, when it comes to sex, in the year of the Lord 2004, in so many ways blokes have become the truly unselfish partner.
Perhaps it’s from years of watching football, but men are very goal-orientated. If they can give you one orgasm, they’ll try for two, three, four, and – every now and again, if you’re feeling really horny – ten. And what do they get for all their efforts? One measly orgasm. And possibly friction burn. Lots of blokes are capable of multiple orgasms too. Did you know that? Probably not, because women are often rather slow to return the favour.
Women sometimes can’t get enough sex. Shattered though they may be, if you tap them on the shoulder ten minutes after episode one, most blokes will be keen enough to move onto the sequel. In general, no matter how tired they are, your average man will rise (and rise) to the occasion.
My long-suffering boyfriend, Conor, knows this to his peril. On Monday night the poor thing feel asleep before I got to bed. Any considerate girl would have left him to his dreams. Pretending to be altruistic I got him undressed. After that, he was fair game for my evil intentions.
It’s no wonder that women think men are always up for it; they almost always are. Or if they’re not, they are still willing to oblige. However, any bloke who tries to wake a sleeping woman, is likely to get nothing more than a grunt and the cold shoulder. I’ll let you in on a little secret, though. Give a snoring girl oral sex, and she’ll respond. But be warned if you are in the mood for a quick shag. There’s a good chance she’ll keep you up for hours. Sometimes it’s best to let sleeping dragons lie.
Another thing I love about men: no matter how bad you think you look, they’ll still shag you. Women may stress about their appearance, but the truth of the matter is that most blokes don’t care. Once a bloke has decided you’re sexy, that’s the way he’ll see you. They are oblivious to the details. This is the reason why they rarely comment if you’ve cut your hair or bought new clothes.
Last year, after an excess of sun and a smidgeon of Guinness at Witnness, I was pink and peeling. At the time I was seeing a lovely guy, a microbiologist called Gerard. I kept avoiding him so that he wouldn’t see my lobster-like state, but by the following Friday he’d had enough and announced he was coming around. I was horrified. In addition to my moulting flesh I had flu, a zit on my chin and slightly more hairy legs than normal because shaving was impossible in my condition.
Fools rush in where angels fear to tread, and hideous though I felt, the brave lad wasn’t discouraged. He rubbed aloe vera into my sunburn, shagged me twice and made me a Lemsip. Nice guy. I’d recommend him to any of my friends.
Women often feel that their most significant relationships are with their female friends. I love my girlfriends, but they don’t spend hours pandering to my sexual pleasure. For that you need a bloke. Or a really good vibrator. But great though toys may be, they never give you flowers. Even if it’s just a sorry looking bunch of carnations bought last minute at the Spar.
Men will go out in the freezing cold at three in the morning for condoms, spend hours searching for the G-spot, contort their bodies into bizarre positions, try out any sexual oddity you suggest and still find time to buy you a Valentine’s gift.
What more could any reasonable woman want? Well maybe breakfast in bed. Preferably pancakes.