Once upon a time, whilst minding my own business on a night out, a strange male creature turned to me and said 'if I didn't have to go home to my girlfriend tonight, you would get annihilated'. Sigh. Do excuse me whilst I bask in the memory of this sublime, erotic moment.
To set the scene for you, strange male creature had spent a good hour trying to look ‘cool’ (think squinted eyes and TOWIE-style pout), and gauge eye contact with me across the room prior to his epic chat up line. He’d also been slamming his fists on the table and shouting ‘aaaaaaaaaaav iiiiiiiit’ or ‘YES! BONE HER mate!’ every five minutes. His general persona was that of a man who prides himself on his supposedly massive genitals: the kind of guy who walks like he’s carrying a football between his legs and is utterly convinced that he is somewhere between an expert and a God when it comes to the imaginary scale of pelvic thrusting.
There are various things wrong with the words that came out of this man's mouth: the first, of course, being his absolute shitness towards his girlfriend (‘just out with da lads bby gal, ur the only gal for me 4evz xx’… wow), and the second being the assumption that I wouldn't be able to resist him and his MASSIVE genitalia, despite the fact that I was fully informed of said girlfriend, and that I found him about as interesting as GCSE Maths.
My main concern with this whole situation however, being a lover of our great language, was the use of the word 'annihilated'. How has this mean, fury-filled word ended up in a sentence about sex?!
As a literal translation, the word 'annihilated' means 'to make into nothing'. To annihilate something is to completely destroy or obliterate it, and whilst I do appreciate moments of metaphorical genius, I just don't believe that this is one of them. At all. The word 'annihilated' makes a potentially pleasurable, intimate act sound like a one-way ticket to a naked limb infested war zone. Are we all feeling a giant surge of arousal yet? Is it time for a rendition of ‘I’m horny, horny, horny, horny…’?
And this isn't the only bizarre way in which I have heard sex described in the idiot's guide to flirtatious conversation. 'I'd smash your back doors in’, 'I wanna bang you into next year', and 'I'd f*cking cream your doughnut' have got to be amongst the worst offenders. You’d smash my back doors in?! Who are you? The world’s most unintelligent burglar? And my doughnut?! Oh, how very provocative and alluring. I love a good, creamy doughnut I do, but there's a time and a place for it, and guess what? It's called a Saturday afternoon excursion to Krispy Kreme. As for being banged into next year; what about Christmas?! If we miss Christmas, you won't be able to ram your stuffing into my turkey, or empty your loaded sack down my chimney.
Don't get me wrong: I don’t expect a stranger in a bar to express his desire for intercourse via the dictation of a sophisticated, erotic novel passage or some kind of complex riddle. I’m not being ‘frigid’ or ‘awkward’ or ‘posh’ or whatever else I’ve been labeled as when I've frowned upon this particular breed of man. The truth of the matter is that they just DON'T arouse me. Such phrases do not fill me with an intense urge to rip my clothes off and thrust my breasts upon a man in ravenous desperation, even if they’re a dead ringer for David Gandy and are wearing nice shoes.
Ultimately, I believe that understated is sexy. I believe that words are powerful little things that should be chosen carefully. I believe that a stuffed turkey should be a stuffed turkey, and that back doors should only be smashed in when illegally trespassing. (But don’t illegally trespass. Because it’s illegal).
Now, who’s up for an excursion to Krispy Kreme? And does anyone think that ‘Horny’ is one of the best, worst songs ever? I wish it was sung by a unicorn.