Jen Kirsch is a pint-sized, blonde, bronzed, twentysomething from Toronto.
If I had you at the title, wait until you get to the material. Today, my fellow femme fatales, I thought I’d tap into the category of moaning. The moan to which I’m referring ranges from a) a sigh of delight, to b) a sigh of excursion. I am woman hear me roar. Well actually, I’d prefer not to thank you very much.
Because as you are there moaning and moaning and moaning, unbeknownst to you, I am sitting there – and by there I mean at the other end of the wall, at the next table, on the yoga mat next to you, etc. – hoping/begging/praying-to-god-promising-that-i’ll-never-watch-another-Bachelor-episode-again if you would just please stop moaning. Like now.
What’s my issue with the moan? Probably the same as yours, you deep-breathing-avoiders you. It makes me uncomfortable. It makes me (against my will) imagine you being intimate. It is sexual – even though you’re moaning over a deep-fried-bean dip – and I just can’t save face long enough to pretend I’m comfortable with it.
I have always been uncomfortable with the public moan. What you do behind closed doors, ladies, is fine by me – so long as I’m not on the other end of the door. But the whole ‘letting it out in public’ thing is just too much. And I know it can be controlled with a bit of will (and self-dignity).
It goes back to high school when I was cast as the lead in a play, where I basically had to do an off-stage ‘moan into the mic’ kind of thing to insinuate that me and the male lead were being intimate.
The plot was similar that of The Truman Show. I played the role of the loving, sweet, innocent girlfriend, but really I was an actress and the whole plan was for me to kill my boyfriend on his 21st birthday over a cup of Pepsi as we cheers’d to our future together. In this play, we see the crew watching in on a television (which the audience doesn’t see) at my character and her boyfriend having sex. Knowing this was a high school show, I felt uncomfortable with the idea of my parents, family, friends (oh and grandparents) hearing my O-moan. I stood up to the director at the risk of losing my role, and in the end I got to keep it and we used a pre-recorded porn recording. Classy, right?
But my prudish nature with the moan still persists in my twentysomethings. Yesterday I was at a Yoga class and the woman on the mat next to me moaned after each and every pose. Now the yoga studio isn’t a place to judge, so I instead tried to focus on my breathing and my own experience, but I was almost surprised with her comfort level with the public moan. It also made me question whether or not she knew she was doing it?
Here is a short little list of places women moan, and how – in my humble opinion – I think it can be toned down; even just a notch.
1) When we eat good food: “Mmmmm, this is so good,” we say with a bigger than life smile on our face. We bite in again, “Mmmm. So good.” This “mmm” and “ohh” and “ahh” continues until our plate is empty and we are full. We finish off, fulfilled saying, “Wow. That was good.” I’ll admit, I’ve done it. I am a foodie through and through and nothing does me as good as a good meal, but I think that you can see (as indicated in the above dialogue) how this resembles a sac session: the increase in pleasure, to the climax, to fulfillment. Think: Meg Ryan’s infamous scene in When Harry Met Sallywhere she moans over a sandwich and the woman next to her says “I’ll have what she’s having.”
2) When we are active, in an athletic kind-of way: “Umph,” we let out as we strike the tennis ball with our racquet with all our might. It comes back to us, this time; we put our backs into it “Ammphhh,” we say as the ball is hit with more force. “Uhhh,” we say as we hit it out of reach of our partner and face victory. A sigh of relief is had. Again, whether it be moaning each time we hit a tennis ball, or each time we are held in a challenging yoga pose, we are replicating a bedroom scene most men can only fantasize about. Subtlety is the name of the game sister.
3) When we smell something good: Isn’t it funny when your florist has heard you moan more this month than your bed buddy? Now yes, I know it’s summer and you go to the florist once a week girlie, but well, that’s exactly my point. Not a good thing. Those flowers really smell lovely, don’t get me wrong. I know that, you know that, every person in the flower shop knows you think that. But how about you allow yourself a little inhalation to tempt your senses, take it in and leave it at that? Same goes for the cologne counter at Holt’s. If you don’t plan on buying the cologne, then you need to step away lady. Because rest assured, the nicely dressed man behind the counter is currently playing an image of ditching his wife for you in his naughty-little-head.
4) When we are getting it on: Though I’ve been ripping on the moan since you set eyes on the article, I have to tell you, I am perfectly OK with the moan in the bedroom. In fact, I encourage it. This is the time when the moan is appreciated. You’re with a partner who is being alerted by your telltale moan that he is the man of your kingdom. Let loose, give in to your impulses in the moan-department. However, there are of course times when the moan in the bedroom should be watered down, including: If your partner has a roommate who is home (or if anyone else is in the house/apartment etc.); if you’ve ever heard the neighbours before (if you’ve heard them, they can hear you pretty lady); and if you’re expecting company (nothing says ‘welcome’ like the sounds of you screaming out in pleasure).
Just a side note about the ‘in the bedroom’ moan: I would try to bite your tongue if you’re playing with a new guy. The early on moan only leads to future disappointment on his end, because you’re setting the bar high. He will create an expectation that that will always occur and will inevitably feel like a failure when it doesn’t remain consistent over time.