Among my friends and family, I am known as the embarrassing one who talks about sex. I ask people about their sex lives; I encourage my children to be open with sexual queries.
Most extraordinarily of all, perhaps, after a quarter of a century of marriage, I still have a sex life.
There is a whiff of staid regularity about it — we tend to have a weekly slot that suits each of us well — but now we’re both working from home in West London, we also have occasional moments when the mood just takes us.
And it does, reassuringly often, to the bafflement of many women my age — 54 — who seem more than happy to cut back on their bedroom hours.
So when I am asked to road-test the new book Smart Sex: How To Boost Your Sex IQ And Own Your Pleasure, by Dr Emily Morse, I feel fairly confident I will find the journey easy and that my husband, Anthony, will be happy to go along with it. He’s up for anything, I tell myself. How wrong I was.
Casting off inhibitions: Susannah and Anthony struggled with sex summits at first, but then they turned to reflecting on the past
Author and sex therapist Dr Morse, known for her long-running podcast Sex With Emily, believes we have forgotten how to prioritise pleasure in our lives, and that too few of us see sex as vital to our self-care. Her solution? Nearly 300 pages of sex tips, with chapter headings such as ‘Have Moregasms’.
One of her central suggestions is that couples should schedule a monthly meeting, or ‘sex summit’ if you will, to discuss what we’d like to see more of in bed.
Dr Morse’s very first line — ‘By the age of 35, many people think their best sex is behind them’ — is one that resonates.
Most of my friends, in our 40s and 50s, would probably agree with her. Our book club is dominated by talk of how far members will go to avoid having sex with their husbands.
Menopause seems to be the magic get-out-of-jiggy-jiggy-free card. A friend told me seriously the other day: ‘Everyone knows menopause kills all libido stone dead. And it never comes back. Seriously.’
But whether you’re swinging from the chandeliers or worry that those lightbulbs have been dimmed permanently, Dr Morse holds that in all relationships there is always room for better communication and ways to improve your Sex IQ.
Most of us, she explains, think we are already ‘collaborating’ by the very nature of making love. But we seldom talk about our sex life —assuming our partner should know how to please us — and so are not properly invested in each other’s pleasure.
A sex summit it is, then. Dr Morse suggests a ten-minute check-in once a month to help determine what’s working, what’s not and where things are headed next.
Author and sex therapist Dr Morse (pictured), known for her long-running podcast Sex With Emily, believes we have forgotten how to prioritise pleasure in our lives, and that too few of us see sex as vital to our self-care
Dr Morse’s very first line — ‘By the age of 35, many people think their best sex is behind them’ — is one that resonates
This can be as specific as you dare, but the initial approach should be positive: perhaps a compliment on something your partner already does that sends you to heaven. The aim is for consistent and honest communication, for each to gain a clear understanding of what floats the other’s boat, but to keep it light and flirty.
She provides us with a checklist of questions which includes: ‘When you think about the hottest sex we could ever have, what does it look like?’
I try to imagine my response to this, but it’s like being asked to name your favourite restaurant: my mind goes stubbornly blank. I’m also troubled by the prospect of asking my husband a question such as: ‘May I share something I’d like more of during sex?’
Even Dr Morse admits that when the topic of sex comes up, many of us shift into discomfort: ‘Either we’re afraid of how our partner is going to react to what we have to say, or we’re scared of what our partner might say to us.’
I certainly fear being told that I’m doing something wrong in bed. So, to bolster myself, I murmur the book’s repeated exhortation: ‘Communication is lubrication, because next to actual lube, it’s the number one thing that is going to improve your sex life.’
What appeals about the end goal is Dr Morse’s insistence that sex never has to become stale or rest on its laurels. Who’s to say we can’t get more pleasure out of it? I love her insistence that it is not shameful or frivolous to want to be pleased.
She calls it ‘the productivity of pleasure’ — that, far from being the devil on your shoulder (spurring you on to wanton self-indulgence), the ongoing quest for sexual fulfilment with your chosen partner will leave you both more relaxed, more engaged, saner and more sensuous, no matter your age or circumstances.
I want to be sensuous, relaxed and sane, I think to myself. I also know that complacency really is the devil in most relationships — who can guarantee that our situation now will be the same in a few years’ time?
And for all my readiness to quiz others about their sex lives, I confess there have been vanishingly few conversations with my husband about our own sexual antics over the past 25 years. Even for me, the idea of sexual self-analysis has always felt too cringe-inducing.
So that night, as we go to bed, I gird my loins for our first sex summit. Not that I describe it as such to my husband. That would send him scurrying for the emergency exit.
‘Try testing the waters with a preliminary conversation about having a conversation about sex,’ Dr Morse advises. So I turn to Anthony, casually, and make a stab at introducing one of the sex summit questions.
‘Hey, the book I’m reading suggests all couples should talk about their sex lives, because otherwise how do they know whether something is working, or if there’s something on their sexual bucket list they haven’t done yet . . .’ Deep breath. ‘So . . . what’s something new you’d like to try?’
Silence. In my growing panic, I start to sing: ‘Let’s talk about sex, baby, let’s talk about you and me . . .’
I tail off, as he gives me that fearful look he normally reserves for when I talk about fancying Harry Styles.
I’m losing confidence. I wonder if I properly took into account the Smart Sex tip to ‘HALT’ before embarking on these talks — that is, to avoid moments when either of you is Hungry, Angry, Lonely or Tired.
Perhaps I should have offered him an apple to go with the cup of tea I made him. ‘Remember to be patient and consistent with these conversations,’ Dr Morse says. ‘They will get easier over time and eventually you won’t have to schedule them because they will be built into the framework of your relationship.’
This seems like a far-off mirage as my husband continues to look at me as if I’m mad. I can’t blame him because, for all my attempts at subtlety, I clearly have a mission.
So I come clean and show him the book. Once I’m being honest, it becomes easier. But then I read out the section on the sex summit, referred to by American Dr Morse as ‘The Sexual State of the Union’ and, sure enough, I lose him.
‘Wow, passion killers are us,’ my husband says drily. ‘How is it sexy to rate arousal?’
‘Sit-down talks once a month? Suggested questions? Wow, Passion-killers R Us,’ he says drily.
‘How is it sexy to rate arousal? Are you seriously advocating book-keeping our bed-keeping?’
He takes the book from me and flips through it, pausing inevitably at the pages I was hoping to prevent him from seeing, like the ‘Yes! No! Maybe?’ alphabetical list of 70 sexual activities that Dr Morse says you should talk about wanting — or not wanting, as the case may be — to try.
‘Oh, dear God,’ he says. This is not going at all as I’d hoped, so I try reverting to flirtiness. I tell him to forget about the lists in the book — they are just points to help you start to talk. I snuggle in closer to him, raise an eyebrow and say: ‘OK, Dr Know-It-All, so is there anything you’ve always wanted to try?’
Dr Morse holds that in all relationships there is always room for better communication and ways to improve your Sex IQ. Stock image used
He’s not stupid. He knows what I’m up to. But at least we’re not talking about taking the bins out. We are flirting, talking about desire — and much as he, as a good Englishman, hates being forced to face anything head-on, he can’t help but be turned on by the glimpses of roads less travelled.
Which is why, five minutes into our first sex summit, the book has been tossed aside and we’re concentrating on boosting our Sex IQ the old-fashioned way.
So much for our first attempt.
A slightly shaky six out of ten, I think, but not without its small wins. I had forgotten one of Dr Morse’s main tips, which was not to have the talk in our bedroom but to remain clear-headed, without the distraction of touch, and keep it firmly as ‘conversational foreplay’ only.
But I can fix that next time.
The disconnect between what was suggested on the page and how ridiculous it sounded when spoken aloud was the first hurdle, but at least the precedent had been set.
Our second summit is more by the book. I choose a time when I’m driving, with him very much in the passenger seat, and this time I’m honest, going for the recap option. ‘So it ended up being fun, that first sex summit, don’t you think?’ I ask him.
Smart Sex: How To Boost Your Sex IQ And Own Your Pleasure by Dr Emily Morse is available now from HQ, HarperCollins (£16.99)
I have now learned a couple of Dr Morse’s questions by heart, so I continue: ‘What’s your favourite memory of sex that we’ve had as a couple?’
He gives me a sceptical look; he has rumbled the rote learning. But, almost to my surprise, he answers my question.
‘Do you remember on that boat? So sexy.’ Suddenly the temperature in the car has gone up.
Dr Morse is on to something here; one of her tips is that nostalgia around shared sexual experiences can turn you on all over again.
And she’s right about the sex summit aspect getting easier. We are talking about sex quite naturally. It has become a means of intimacy — and it feels good.
Dr Morse doesn’t go into too much detail about how to develop the summits beyond her list of ten questions (see panel, below left). But her basic aim of being consistent and honest is a good one.
By emphasising the curious, not the critical, the ten minutes fly by.
At our third sex summit — this time, during a walk — we are able to switch from talking about past sexual glories to what we might do in the future.
While it’s easier to dwell on past successes than talk about the present or future, it no longer feels so awkward.
Farther along in the book is a game called Sixty-Nine Questions, to practise ‘active listening’ about each other’s sexual thoughts, preferences and desires — and we later find ourselves playing it one night before the next prescribed monthly chat, firing off quickfire queries such as: ‘When have you lied about sex?’, ‘What did you learn from your parents about sex?’, ‘What times of day are sexually prime for you?’
It proves to be a most informative evening.
Role-playing and orgasm denial can wait another day
We are now coming up to Sex Summit Four in September. We have asked each other all the questions on Dr Emily’s list, mugging and grimacing a little as we did so, but we’ve done it.
Initially thrown off-balance by how difficult the first summit was, I am now surprised how, by me sticking to a coquettish tone and him to his ever-so-slightly sardonic approach, we are, nevertheless, growing closer.
We don’t feel the need to try too many of Dr Morse’s Sexual Bucket List activities — role-playing and orgasm denial can wait another day — but we reverse-engineer the flirtatious intimacy of our chats into pleasure during sex, and that works for us.
In bed the other day, I asked my husband whether he valued the process — if he thought he was more sensuous, sane, relaxed and sexually fulfilled as a result.
‘Yes, but I’m still not that bothered about saying so, about being so specific,’ he grumbled. ‘It’s surely enough that we are having sex, that we are carving out time to please each other. Do we really have to find time to talk about it, too?’
When I remind him that, as Dr Morse says, ‘communication is the magic’, he comes straight back with ‘Magic is the magic!’, pulling an imaginary rabbit out from under the covers.
We laugh. We may have different methods, but at the end of the day we have the same aims, namely to make the other happy and continue to enjoy each other’s company. We can both work with that.
Smart Sex: How To Boost Your Sex IQ And Own Your Pleasure by Dr Emily Morse is available now from HQ, HarperCollins (£16.99)