The start of an elegy for intimacy

The glorious days of pure connection halt as soon as a relationship crosses over the first time. The flowers stop, the dates being planned stop, and all of a sudden sex happens every time you see your partner—like a ritual. Before sex, there are kisses on the forehead, locked eyes, more perfume sprayed and not just on your wrists, slipping into corners pressing into each other’s winter coats. It’s seductive and sexy but still romantic and gentle. The energy and self-control in itself are inflammatory.  

But right in that border, before crossing the bridge, is where I wish I could live forever. 

Before suspecting those romantic gestures were always leading somewhere. See women will always be consumable. It doesn’t matter if you are a prude virgin or a slut, skinny or plump, blonde or brunette, a teen or a milf, a nun or a schoolgirl—there’s a porn category we can all slip into even if we don’t want to. Any man can tell you if he is a boob or a butt guy. Just like I can guarantee every man has, at least one time, gone to the strip club justifying it by saying, “I did it just to know, you know, out of curiosity, what it was like.” You nod, wishing this one time, he could be the one to prove you wrong. 

It is disturbing how the majority of men, but also some women, speak about the act of having sex. This new terminology seems to originate and become normalized through social media content as it is packaged as Tik-Tok friendly language. “I’d hit that.” “Smashed.” “I fucked her.” “I want to rock her shit.” “Hit her from behind.” “We banged.” “Cracked.” “Beat it up.” “Tear that up.” “I destroyed her box”. I could get more vulgar, but I hope that speaks volumes on its own. Ask yourself: when’s the last time you’ve heard “made love”? Somehow violence became the language of desire. Words are so powerful and we’ve just insinuated, under our noses and in between our lips, a very new meaning of sex.  

And I know what you’re thinking: “Don’t you listen to Sabrina Carpenter?” Yes, I do, on the daily, but I really listen. Her music reflects the perfect innocent flirting stage before sex and after—when you become the least sought-after girl in the land. Maybe that’s why female pop stars fascinate me so much, their performances often package desire with grief. She leans into sexual innuendos and humour, but underneath are lyrics with universal truth and a storytelling so melancholy. Her songs are so heartbreaking.  

Her lyrics as follows: “I’m so at peace, yeah, I can’t drink enough. No way to know who you’re just thinking of, I just wish you didn’t have a mind.” 

Yeah, Miss Carpenter gives “tongue-in-cheek” in her lyrics, but the Bechdel test was initially a satirical comment on the absence of women in films in the ‘80s. It was seriously just a general observation. Now it’s a metric system. I mean seriously ask a guy his favourite movie and I guarantee it won’t pass the Bechdel test. 

Or the Sexy Lamp test—why do we even have so many tests for women in films in the first place? Is anyone else concerned? Have there been that many females leads who only serve as a plot device or romantic interest for male characters? It’s as simple as asking: can the female character be replaced by a sexy lamp?  

You know what you can say to a sexy lamp? “So hot.” “Smashed that.” “Banged it on the couch.” “Hit it to turn it on.” 

Back to Sabrina, even her Coachella performance was unbelievable compared to Justin Bieber’s. So why is it called “Bieberchella”? Fans seriously coined that new name for this music festival. Bieber stood nearly motionless with projected YouTube clips behind him and was praised for his “rawness” and “vulnerability.” For the second time this year, he was admired for this minimalist set-up, the first being at this year's 68th Grammy Awards, where he performed in iridescent boxers and socks with just a guitar and drum pad. Being deemed an intimate performance instead of a lazy one. A striking difference compared to Miss Carpenter’s full-on movie set. To be clear, I think Justin Bieber is talented. The fact is men don’t even need to perform to be praised.  

What’s just as frustrating is the double standard women face. Carpenter is constantly labelled a “sex symbol,” yet if women move toward a more modest or girlish aesthetic, they are still hypersexualized. Take Olivia Rodrigo in her new “drop dead” music video, where she wears a babydoll dress while portraying a girl delusionally in love. Even that sparked backlash accusing her of infantilization and fetishization. Ironically, babydoll dresses originally symbolized liberation by rejecting the tight, restrictive clothing women were once confined to. 

I guess no matter what, girlhood will always be weaponized and predatory against us.

I just worry. What has and will become of sex? Why are women constantly performing for a small taste of recognition?