With anyone who was even thinking of straying romantically scared straight by the Ashley Madison imbroglio, maybe potential fence-jumpers need to look closer to home for sexual adventures.
But just like in real estate, in love matters it’s all about location … location … location. So where is the best place to have great sex and eliminate the need for pastures new? Here’s Title’s tongue-in-cheek – hey, maybe it’s someone else’s cheek – guide to romancing the home.
The suburban bungalow
UPSIDE: Given that half of today’s over-50s were conceived behind those white picket fences, the traditional (read ‘boring’) suburban home may not exactly be an aphrodisiac but it clearly ain’t a passion killer either. After all, this is where the car key swingers parties started and who knows what goes on these days when the last echoes of your favourite TV talent quest, cooking contest or renovation show have faded into the night?
DOWNSIDE: You are trying to have sex in the same room as your (or someone’s) parents once did it – and that’s once too often for the average libido. There is no little blue pill or exotic insect-based concoction strong enough to counter having the words “parents” and “sex” in the same thought. Also, there’s always a sneaking suspicion that while you are mentally undressing your partner, he or she is mentally cleaning leaves out of the gutters.
UPSIDE: There are so many rooms, and some with slightly raunchy names like ‘rumpus’, that a weekend without the kids could be a sexual odyssey. And once you have exhausted the rooms, there’s the back seat of car in the garage (not the driveway, please!) and the in-ground pool. Oh, yeah, baby. Suddenly it’s the Playboy McMansion.
DOWNSIDE: It’s so quiet. And you can see the kids’ rooms and their toys. And the desk where you keep all the bills. And the basket full of smelly clothes that are well past their wash-by date. And the bedroom door squeaks months after you meant to oil it. And let’s not get anything on the cream plush carpet. And as for that crack in the ceiling …? Suddenly microwave popcorn and a Downton Abbey DVD sound like a good night in.
The High Rise Apartment
UPSIDE: One of the most common complaints in apartments is about people having sex on their balconies. The next most common complaint is that it’s not you. Get out there and give the neighborhood Peeping Tom a heart attack. It’s like doing it al fresco without leaving home.
DOWNSIDE: It all boils down to the neighbours. Can they hear you? If you can hear them, then yeah, they can. If you can’t hear them, maybe they are puritanical religious freaks. Or they’re keeping quiet so they can listen in. How will you feel when they give you that look in the lift? Beam me up, Scotty.
The Big Old House
UPSIDE: Welcome to fantasy land with a different room for every mood (see McMansions). You are the lord and lady of the manor, the upstairs-downstairs illicit romance, Jack Nicholson in the Shining (OK, maybe not that one). Is that a door to a cellar? Dig out the leather hotpants and you’ve got 50 shades of Goodness-Me!
DOWNSIDE: The floors creak, the roof leaks and the bed squeaks. You keep wondering if locking the door makes any difference and every time you go to the bathroom the pipes gurgle and groan like a drunk who ate too much curry. And don’t even mention ghosts. Aaa-wooo!
The single studio
UPSIDE: You are probably fresh out of the family home and still at the dating stage. Once you have been there for a while, your flat will look like the inside of your brain (or at least potential partners will think it does). So, gents, put some books on the shelves, some herbs in the pantry, flowers on the table and the most expensive bubbly you can afford in the fridge.
Ladies, remove all traces of bridal, home making and child rearing magazines and replace them with a gaming console. The way to a young man’s heart is through his thumbs, but a bottle of decent red doesn’t go amiss either. Books should be Gillian Flynn rather than E. L James (unless that’s an invitation you really want to be RSVP’d).
DOWNSIDE: There is nowhere to hide and if you haven’t prepared for the first date, you could be in trouble. Guys, crumpled beer cans and rancid pizza cartons do not say “Boho” so much as they scream “hobo”. Skin mags and porn DVDs are likely to have the same get-me-outta-here effect. Posters on the wall of pouting semi-clad pop stars don’t tell women you are hip, they tell them that, deep down, you are 12.
Gals, there is such a thing as too cute. Too much pink, too many stuffed animals and too many fridge magnets with inspirational quotes will make your date feel like they have walked into a self-improvement seminar with an eight-year-old. Of course, if that’s what you are going for …