There used to be a much-quoted theory that the average male thinks about sex every seven seconds.
Of course, women – in stark contrast – think about it roughly every seven years. Or at least those of the Not Drowning variety do. But then again, there are Those Days when I can easily be thinking about that bottle of wine in the fridge every seven seconds. I think we all know about Those Days. In fact, just talking about Those Days is making me think about that bottle of wine in the fridge…
But men: Sex? Every seven seconds? I’ve often wondered how exactly that works for them. Especially if, say, they were Leader of the Free World or presiding over a complex legal trial or even just trying to tie their shoe laces.
And if they think about it every seven seconds, how long do they think about it? Seven seconds? Then it would be seven seconds on, seven seconds off. Which is kind of manageable. But what if they thought about it for seven minutes? You’d have to just hope and pray that your husband registered your request to pick up milk on the way home during that seven second reprieve, before embarking on yet another fantasy involving twins and a bottle of Coles maple-style syrup.
[For the record: fantasies involving twins is incest, boys. Incest. The only time incest has been vaguely sexy was those Virginia Andrews’ Flowers in the Attic books and even then she was gently nudging the boundaries of good taste with a pneumatic ramming device.]
I’ve often wondered, too, how they came up with the seven seconds theory? Was it based on a bona fide scientific study? If so, it was quite possibly conducted by a woman in glasses who looked like Wonder Woman’s Lynda Carter when she was pretending to be “Diana Prince”. Which would explain the “every seven seconds” result because any male participating in the study would have been hoping that the scientist might just spin round to reveal her sparkly bra and tiara at any given moment. To preserve the integrity of the study, you’d hope they’d then have made that same scientist re-test the subjects while wearing a shapeless pair of tracky-dacks and a t-shirt with a trail of white sludge down the back from when the baby did one of those sneaky over-the-shoulder vomits during “The Morning Show with David and Kim”.
In any case, my own personal theory is that the “seven seconds” theory came about from a group of guys down the pub boasting about how often they think about sex. “Yeah, I think about it ALL the time, I’m such a manly man thinking man stuff.” “Well, my dick is bigger than yours so I must think about it even more often!” “Yeah?” “Yeah!”
But listen, whatever its basis and no matter its validity, the seven second theory is a convenient way for me to excuse my husband for never really listening to anything I say. After all, telling him about the cheap 3 for 2 deal on Huggies Unscented Baby Wipes at Coles or explaining why yoghurt appears to have been poured in the cutlery drawer is truly riveting stuff. But he just seems to glaze over.
“He’s no doubt thinking about sex again. Huh!” I mutter to myself and go check in the fridge that the bottle of wine is still there… Yep, still there. Phew.