A few months ago I wrote a post about the typical language used in films; sentences completely detached from reality (at least as far as I’m concerned), for example: “A damn cop fined me!” or when the actor gets in a taxi and tells the taxi driver: “Follow that car!” Typical situations that unfold seem a bit devoid of reality. Cinematic sex scenes are even more distanced from reality, and can even be called utopian/fiabesque…with the obvious exception of a few that don’t bother me now..

Post-coitus (After sex) scenes

They have just finished a passionate intercourse, he lights up a cigarette and she needs a glass of water. She gets out of bed and what does she do? She grabs the sheet and wraps it around her body like a towel to cover her tits, ass and everything in between, as if he hasn’t just seen them, touched them and shared his DNA in every possible and imaginable way. If I had just had a sexual relationship with someone and then they went into the kitchen for any reason and draped themselves with the sheet like a Greek goddess, I would be pissed. If you’re cold, put on your coat, and if you’re ashamed of your cellulite, get dressed. Right?

The ease of foreplay

In movies, sex is easy. Let’s start with the preliminaries: two partners start to touch and kiss each other and simultaneously strip each other. Small detail: they do it as if it were the easiest thing in the world even though they are fully dressed. They start with their jackets and with this, there is no issue. They proceed to their shirts and this is where the fantasy begins: it takes me ten minutes to unbutton my shirt alone while I’m alert and with my eyes open. However, these individuals, who are clouded by passion and have their eyes closed, unbutton the shirts quickly and with extreme precision. In some cases the passion is so powerful that he/she may tear the shirt. This brings up the question: why the fuck would you tear my shirt? Now I have to take it to the seamstress. That sucks and is inconvenient.

Protection and Precautions.

The thing that most resembles reality is perhaps this: rarely during cinematic sex scenes do you hear dialogues like this: “Are you taking the pill?” “Where do you keep your condoms?” or “What do you mean you don’t have condoms?” Imagine that. The possibility of a nice unwanted/unexpected pregnancy or an STI  gives that extra feel of adventure, doesn’t it?

Simultaneous and multiple orgasms and where to find them

Sexual relations in movies are as smooth as oil. No muscle cramps, no expressions like “Ouch, you’re pulling my hair!”, no sweat, and definitely no scene of the woman trying to find a comfortable position as her head keeps slamming against the wall. Most importantly, there is no such thing as an ending without simultaneous orgasms of shocking force, whether the two partners have known each other for a long time, or whether it’s a stranger bang. This is just pure science fiction. Just as it’s science fiction that after having had fun for about half an hour between the sheets, the man is slightly dishevelled while the girl seems to have just left a beauty salon: perfect hair, makeup still intact and bright lipstick. I don’t know about you but afterwards, I usually have Tina Turner hair and little to no makeup.

What do you mean a bed?

Cinematic sex scenes definitely have a thing against beds. Either you are standing up, putting your muscles, flexibility and balance to the test, or opting out of a soft and comfortable mattress and preferring a cold and hard floor. Fascinating. In the movies, those on top don’t smash their knees, those underneath don’t freeze their ass or sweat, and therefore don’t stick to the tiles and there are no suspicious noises.

What about those steamy car sex scenes? We’ve all been there, so we all know that it’s not as easy as they make it look, where the two lovers usually easily find a position and hold it until the end, all without:

“Wait, move your leg a little bit.”, “ouch, my back hurts, we’re going in the back.”, “Careful, you’re gonna crush my balls.” The fact is, just managing to overcome the muscle cramps requires a certain level of commitment. On the front seat, the one on top must position themselves carefully, avoiding the gear lever, belts, chargers, candies, and coins scattered around. Doing it in the back seat is a bit better, as long as the smell of the seats combined with the little oxygen present in the car does not suffocate you to the point of passing out.

In conclusion: I dream of a movie where the protagonists have cellulite and imperfections, where during sex they resonate phrases like “How the fuck do you unhook this bra?”, where after sex lovers have their hair pointing in all directions, the makeup messed up and they can not wait to have a bath or take a shower.

Possible?

Well, considering that Disney introduced tongue kissing in cartoons, I would say that we may have some hope.