Posted in consent, sex on September 15th, 2010 by steph – Comments Off on Consent

I’m pretty much in love with this post over at Blue Milk disputing the idea that asking for consent is a total mood-killer. What resonated for me was this part here

I don’t know why the idea has persisted that asking for consent is necessarily a clinical business – what is stilted about – more? do you want to? do you like? Because “mood-killer”? Are you kidding me? That moment when they close the space between you both and ask you to put your cards on the table – is this on or not, can I do this with you – is one of the most heart-flippingly exciting moments in all of existence. Eat those moments up because they are the episodes of your life that you will daydream about when you’re ninety years old. That anticipation – that moment when your asking is simultaneously both aggressive and submissive – it is what fuels a billion films and books.

All I can say to that is hells yeah. Consent, and asking; these things are fucking sexy. Anyone who busts out the consent form point of argument could do with reading this post, and thinking about the heart-pounding excitement and anticipation of asking if something is ok, or asking if something feels good, or asking if a certain thing is ok. Putting yourself out there is part of the experience. And even though getting turned down, or maybe having things go differently to what you had imagined might not be the most fun thing ever, Blue Milk once again has said it best:

Granted it is not pleasant when you’re turned down, and for the record, it isn’t easy turning someone down, either. Something is usually lost; the end of a good conversation at the very least, and sometimes even a friendship. But it is a gamble you take because you can’t bear another moment of not knowing; it is the gamble you take because when someone says ‘yes’ to you it is about the hottest feeling you’ll ever know.