I once worked for a guy who was brought up on a farm during World War Two. He had been evacuated there for his own safety and retains the friends he made during his enforced relocation to this day, well, the ones that are still alive anyway. We would talk occasionally about the time during and just after the war when his interest in girls was developing, and how he met and fell in love with the woman he eventually married and lives with to this day.
He would recount stories of parties in the church halls at different villages where he and his contemporaries would try to pick up the girls. I heard about his first car, his first adventures and fumblings, it was all very innocent.
Or so I thought.
The fact is that sex is sex and nothing much has changed over the years. Boys still fancy girls and girls still fancy boys. They may talk about it in different ways, use different words and be more open about sex, but the physical act of love is still the same no matter what age you were brought up in.
So after listening to him recount an evening at a dance in a barn and his walk home with a girl he threw me a curve ball. They were walking down an unlit country road, the only light from a full moon when he described how they stopped, found a haystack and began a bit of snogging and groping. Ah, I thought a more innocent time … what stopped me in my tracks was how he then described how she quickly removed her knickers and invited him to shag her senseless in the hay.
It was like the bit in American Pie where Alyson Hannigan (Playing Michelle Flaherty) describes how, “This one time, at band camp, I stuck a flute in my pussy.”
Seeing my surprise he explained, “Oh, they were all like that, sex was like a religion to them.” And apparently they worshipped regularly.
So much for feeling we are more uninhibited than previous generations.