The Fast & The Furious

ELIZABETH ROSE

“If everything seems under control, you’re just not going fast enough” – Mario Andretti

So I’m back in the UK and enjoying the pace of London once again. London as a city is a nervous, angry beast. Constantly hurrying through the day, elbowing passersby out of its way.

The commuter pace isn’t the only thing that’s different.

You may have noticed now my fellow frog ‘chronicle-ists’ and I are quite keen to theorise, hypothesise and research:

• Does a man’s cum face align to his bedmate behaviours?
• Does his sporting passion alter his horizontal passions?
• Can women do casual sex?
• Is online dating ever more than a terrifying glimpse into the murkiest end of the gene pool?

I am continuing my “research” during my field trip to London (an excellent cure for jetlag as it happens) an I have noticed yet another correlation…

Now this could be down to my own predisposition to categorise, label and efficiently tidy away – you should see my lingerie cupboard, all neatly ordered and hung according to fetish / mood. However, I do think this one deserves further scrutiny.

Toronto is a low key, calm sort of city. The default style of my Toronto based lovers was often low key and calm (excluding Finn, which is possibly why he is my kryptonite). Here in London the sex is impatient, arrogant and quite impersonal. It’s a lovely treat.

I have to be honest I like to Fuck.
Capitilsation deliberate, my kind of Fucking needs to be CAPITALISED.

Now, don’t sit there and think “Stating the bleeding obvious, Liz.” (In my mind all my Readers have a charming Yorkshire accent – I don’t know why, it’s unlikely they even have the internet in the North).

I like to FUCK. I don’t like to make love, and I only occasionally wish to shag. Copulation bores me and sleeping together is out of the question. “Fuck me” is my one request of lovers. Go fast, go hard and Fuck me. Some gentlemen have ignored the capitalisation and they have gently caressed, artfully enticed and delicately teased. While this is often skillful and imaginative, it belongs in a relationship. So my current requirements of those who enter my inner sanctum (through the revolving door) is to Fuck me.

I digress. London sex follows the mood of the city and Fucks you – much more in line with my current preferences. While I have been basking in my post orgasmic glow, I had another hypothesis; what if casual sex is influenced by the mood of the city or place in which you live? Could I select a weekend getaway to suit the needs of my nether regions? Would Swiss lovers be punctual, would a Parisian be as rude and stand-offish as the waiters there? Would a fling in Edinburgh be an uphill struggle (though in charming surroundings)?

Or am I just seeing a link I wish to find? A theory that combines travel with casual sex to link my two favourite pastimes. It may be a tenuous link, but I think I will keep it and start planning some trips. Let’s see… my preference is for rugby supporters who make a face like Elvis when they cum in a city that is frenetic, debaucherous and does not imply forming a lasting connection… I think I will book some tickets to the USA Sevens tournament in Las Vegas next February.

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