24
Nov
2014
3

Sex, unicorns, wheelchairs and pensioners – that’s what sexual freedom awards 2014 is all about

So I went to this 20th Anniversary Sexual Freedom Awards thing in London last week. I knew it’d be a good story because, well, because it was called the Sexual Freedom Awards. The fact that it involved disabled people and your dad, well that was just a bonus.

When I arrived at Bush Hall in the most takeaway-chicken-shop part of Shepherd’s Bush, I thought I’d got my dates wrong and had rocked up on bingo night. I stood across the street eating mixed nuts, salted and watched the walking sticks and heart monitors stagger in. It was lucky that I noticed the naughty lion bobbing around in the line too, because it was then that it struck me – oh yeah, old people like sex too.

You guys have fun with it, just don’t die.

People probably just reach a certain age where they don’t give a shit about what other people think anymore. So they’re more than happy to line up on the street outside a sex show sexual freedom awards 2014 night and pretty much openly declare “I pay for my sex and I don’t care what my dead wife thinks!”

FullSizeRender (1)
You see her walking straight past? She is too young

These people were the clients, friends and fans of the people up for awards or performing, so this event is kind of how the sex industry schmooze them. Which makes perfect sense to me – every client-focused industry in the world looks after the people who keep business alive. Some clients get flowers, some clients get taken to dinner, some clients get to watch X-rated penetration.

It’s called client perks. And it’s never too late to pay for your sex, my friends.

It wasn’t just the audience that was aged either, the people hosting and some performers weren’t exactly youthful. Which again, makes perfect sense to me. Success comes with experience and wisdom – think Steve Jobs, think Oprah Winfrey, think Hugh Hefner.

Do you remember when Oscar organisers entrusted young and gorgeous James Franco and Anne Hathaway to host the film industry’s highest honours in 2011? It was a cringeworthy car crash and it wasn’t because they didn’t do penetration.

The Sexual Freedom Awards is about giving public recognition to the “highly professional” and “courageous individuals” working in the sex industry – something they receive very little of from us open-minded mainstreamers who still secretly worry that heaven and hell might be real. 

The industry feels “sabotaged by the media” and “under appreciated by society” – and I agree that we probably aren’t doing enough to celebrate the healthy and safe side of it. But to be honest with you, sex industry I’m talking to you, whether you choose to smoke a cigarette from your mouth or from your vagina, it’s never going to be safe or sexy. So never show me that again. Or I’m telling your mother. Or did she teach you that?

Also, while I’m being honest, sex industry, I don’t really think you’re doing yourselves any favours by putting on an event featuring so much glitter and latex. Not to mention the ghastly inflatable-penis ornaments. And big golden cock trophies… with wings. Surely if you’re looking for more credibility as professionals you’ve got to be a little less, tacky? My LinkedIn profile picture isn’t me on a cruise ship in a pair of crocs, giving a blow job, for that very reason.

FullSizeRender (2)
You were’t actually supposed to take pictures but I couldn’t get enough of this overly affectionate couple. On the right is a guy in drag. What fun!

Nevertheless, it was an eye opening event. Not because I saw a woman use butter to stick her entire fist up her own dot but because I listened and learnt about some thought-provoking stuff. Like this one woman, who won the “sex worker of the year” award, she only services people with disabilities – which certainly explained the mass wheelchair party going on at the back. She made you kind of remember that people with disabilities, well they get horny too.

Then there was an award that Ugly Mugs took. Ugly Mugs is a scheme that aims to protect sex workers – who by law have to work alone – from predators. It provides them with a social and professional network so they can report the bad guys, and the fugly ones. And never service those hideous bastards again.

Another important takeaway was that everyone who likes sex, so everyone I guess, is just a little bit different in what they find sexually stimulating.

Actually no I knew that because I get off on the smell of a man’s underarm.

What I actually learnt was that some people are A LOT different. And that’s OK too. If you want to make a career out of getting up on stage dressed as a man-unicorn, that is 100% your prerogative.

This one performer really played the part of a unicorn. He ate carrots because unicorns like carrots. He bathed himself in soapy water – I can definitely see a unicorn doing that. And then just to make sure this adorable-sounding performance couldn’t be booked for children’s parties, he proceeded to shoot the uneaten carrots out of his bottom and then funnel the rest of the soapy water in.

Then made it come back out.

Like a whale.

He was a whale-icorn.

He ended up winning the “sex performance of the year” award and he was very proud. Fair enough too, it’s this kind of recognition that makes his job worthwhile – even though people are always telling him: “You’re a freak. Get a real job. Stop firing things out of your arse.” (His acceptance speech words, not mine.)

He’s probably just like, I don’t see your golden penis trophy, bitch.

Then there was Little Lauren, the whorish brat who kept squirting all over the audience. Don’t bother Googling her, I’ve tried. All you get is pictures of newborn babies named Lauren. This Little Lauren was the real did-she-just-do-that deal. She had dreadlocks, a punk rock outfit and sooooo much ‘tude, man. Here she was all F this and F that. She kept taking all these aggressive selfies, then she smoked a cigarette with her vagina and then pulled anal beads out of, well from the place they normally get pulled out of. The beads were the relatively shocking finale to her performance, but I’m still not sure it beat the the earlier performer who pulled out a 4-metre-long bunting flags thread from her bejazzle.

The weirdest part about the Little Lauren experience ended up being standing next to her at the bar later on. She was buying absinthe or something.

So if you’re starting to feel a little uncomfortable from reading this, welcome to my world, slugger. That’s how I started to feel progressively throughout the night. I wasn’t exactly shocked by anything I saw. I guess it’s like seeing a celebrity on stage, you’re a bit detached because the celebrities or the vaginas are all the way over there on the stage. But when the performers started to wander around in the audience to mingle with their friends and fans (and family???), I don’t know, it’s almost like I could smell their daddy issues or something.

While I support the idea of sexual freedom – the safe and healthy side – I still think this safe and healthy side indirectly supports the dark and unhealthy side that’s ruining people’s lives behind the scenes.

The award show’s founding woman seemed genuine enough though. God, she was so awkwardly old. It’s almost like you could trust her more because she had that shaky old wise grandma voice though. But instead of saying stuff like “yes dear, I knitted you a scarf”, she was saying stuff like “yes dear, stripping naked for money is very liberating”.

It was her 70th birthday that night and we sung her a lively tune.

Let’s just say that if you ever need a break from the boring vanilla ice creams whose weekends you hate hearing about every Monday morning in your accounting firm, spice your weekdays a little and look for something as bonkers as a sexual freedom event – which all hilariously happened behind closed doors on a Monday night.

I saw so many vaginas before it was even 10pm.

FullSizeRender (3) IMG_6936

SUBSCRIBE TO BLOG

Leave a Reply