I’ve
got good news and bad news. The good news is there is lots of sex in the
future; the bad news is not much is between humans.
Once upon a time the best sex you could
get was the kind between consenting adults. The kind you had to work at getting
and that carried the potential for life changing consequences, like enduring
partnerships, love and children. The messy kind that was breath-taking, heart-thumping
and mind-cleansing. The kind that fathered pride, pleasure, passion and sometimes,
less pleasingly, embarrassment and shame.
Then came technology. The same
technology that crammed the world into your phone and killed everything from
newspapers to conversation. It has just about killed good old-fashioned sex
too. Replaced all but the shadow of it with virtual sex of a wondrous but
barren and dangerous kind.
When did this slide to future sex
begin? The problem has its genesis in that rough approximation of the sexual act
that needed nothing more than a torn-out centrefold and hands and fingers. Masturbation.
Once this was just a second-rate substitute for the real thing with nothing to
recommend it save little effort was required. Remember the joke of the day: masturbation
means never having to look your best. In the past this was no substitute for
the real thing, with all that heart-banging, mess and potential.
Virtual sex (VS) changed all that. Virtual
sex, like masturbation has always been with us, but it has only been this
century that it was any good. Its roots lie in the pornographic images and sex
aids of old. Early attempts at VS were little more than movies and crude
approximations of genitalia: fruit and veggies for the ladies, a sock full of
custard for the men. The results were often laughable and occasionally found
their way into popular culture. Remember the crude self-stimulation device
given to the padre by his grateful troopers in the Australian movie The Odd Angry Shot. It was a cardboard
box with a hole in one end and contained a feather duster that turned by
cranking a handle. The padre took it gratefully and proclaimed ‘this is the
most well constructed wanking machine I’ve ever seen’. Much later, recall the
devastated warm apple pie in the teen movie AmericanPie. ‘Well, arr, we'll, we'll just tell your mother that we ate it all’.
The Pseudosex 2020 full-body sex suit. 'How was that for you Mable? |
Things improved, gradually. Pretty soon
movies went three-dimensional and the ‘point of view’ and ‘realistic’ porn movie
genre were born. Then came the bulky headsets and headphones that promised an ‘immersive
experience’. Later came gloves and underwear and full-body suits that used the
movement of air or fluid to coordinate sensation with the images in the
headset. Apple, Alphabet and Microsoft led the way but there were some
unexpected players in the VS market too. They didn’t last long. Hoover gave it
a crack but quickly left the market after several instances of bruised balls
and at least one castration. The first full-body sex suits looked like NASA
castoffs, but in time they became flying suits and later skin-tight Lycra and
silk jobs. Nowadays you feel close to naked wearing one.
Over the years I’ve had the opportunity
to review a number of those early models. The Pseudosex 2020 failed to impress:
it was rather like riding a push bike through a car wash with a milking machine
attached to your genitals. The Sparkmaster Mark 2 used electrical stimulation rather
than air and fluid pressure. This was a mistake. Just a few minutes left me
convulsing as if I’d been turned into a giant tongue and applied to a car
battery. I never did try the HooverMate, with its constant risk of castration
and occasional de-nippling. These early models have been consigned to history
but technology improved and that is the problem.
At some point virtual sex became better
than the real thing. Much better. Now it’s possible to slip into a Sexorial 220
or an Appleicious analogue and experience the best sex you’ve ever had with whom
ever you want. Everything from sex in space to Roman orgies are possible.
Historical figures can be conjured. Hollywood sex sirens and leading men are popular:
Marilyn, Raquel Welsh, Lana Turner, Cary Grant, Clark Gable and Chaplain are
on the A list.
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What’s more you can choose from a range
of movie themes, both old and new. Fancy a night below decks with Depp in
Pirates of the Caribbean? Done. How about a little vigorous Oompa Looping? Not
a problem. Nude limbo dancing with Mary Poppins and a pack of penguins? Yes,
yes, yes. It can all be done.
Political figures are not forgotten either.
Emmanuel Macron and Justin Trudeau, long since gone from power remain
favourites. Margaret Thatcher is popular among Englishmen hankering after
another era. And more disturbing, John Howard retains a small and rather troubled
following in Australia.
The upshot of all this is that sex with
another actual human being is rather boring and difficult to orchestrate. Marriage
and relationships are on the decline, with the exception of long-distance
relationships which have been reinvigorated because technology can turn your
partner into whomever you want them to be.
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Is there anything good about all of
this? Not much. Population is declining in
the developed world with China the first nation to mandate a two child
per couple policy. Other nations including Australia are persisting with generous
incentive schemes such as free homes after a couple’s second child. STDs are
rare and domestic violence is unusual because there just isn’t much ‘domestic’
left any more. Infidelity isn’t the problem it used to be, although being
caught in flagrante delicto with the latest BlowBabeBodyBlanket can still cause
problems.
I wish I had happier news. I wish the
future of sex was better, I really do. I miss the old stuff. All that wonderful
mess, all that potential.
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