A few nights ago, I attended a concert for one of my favourite bands. I shan’t disclose the particulars, but I can tell you I had a bloody good time, as did Mr Peaches. Though, no—not in that way.
Concerts thrill me but they also exhaust me. I stand at the front whenever I can. In addition to giving proximity to the band, this allows me to observe the admin behind it all; the amazing staff who are doing all they can to keep things rolling; the happy exchanges between manager and musician after a successful set; and the dynamic between the performers themselves. I get to see it all and it puts a huge grin on my moment.
It also kills my legs.
Not as badly as Mr Peaches, mind you—he limps as if he’s gained 50 years—but I’m still not exactly ready to spread my aching legs and invite an ache to other aspects of my body.
Then there’s the mental fatigue. Excitement and energy can only last for so long, especially for an introvert at the front of a concert.
Come the end of any good concert I’m a slumping, useless mess of joy and a desire for my bed. I listen to the more mellow tunes of the bands I heard play, and we drive home where the Morpheus becomes my new favourite performer.
More to the point, I don’t think that concert sex is all it’s cracked up to be.
Of course, I’m not going to yuck anyone’s yum but it’s fair to say that I personally struggle to find its appeal.
But there’s something to be said about the thought experiment of sex at music concerts; what it means to me, what it means to others, and what might be.
If I were the type to have sex at (or after) concerts I imagine I’d do it out of some voyeuristic desire to be watched and admired mixed with an urge to lose myself in the music. Concerts are music in its more primal and dynamic form. They have an energy to them that is built between the performers and the crowd, and it grows and flows as if pulsing with a collective life.
We experience a concert together but we also experience it alone—reconciling our collective enjoyment in our own personal way.
I think mine would involve the Lelo Mia 2. Its power and discretion would allow me to use it inconspicuously if I so desired. It also wouldn’t go amiss if I decided that slipping off to the bathroom was the best method of release. Sure, I might look odd cleaning my lipstick, but I’d look weirder washing a wand.
If I got home, on the other hand, I’ve got an entire play room. The bands I listen to give lively but touching concerts. Some hard paddling followed by tender and zen-like aftercare perhaps? I suppose that would depend on the order of the set. If it ended on a sadder note then I may find I would rather have Mr Peaches on top of me, Liberator underneath us, as I stroke his face and he enters me.
I think having sex after a concert would be more interesting to me than sex during. Not only would dancing at the concert act as its own sexual ritual, but I wouldn’t miss out on any of the performances either.
I mean, these performers are giving it their all. The least I could do is listen to the band I admire in person and then fuck to their music at home (or during the car journey home. I’m not opposed to a discreet retreat in an automobile).
One thing I certainly wouldn’t do is be obvious about my activities.
There was a case in the UK of a couple who had allegedly performed a sex act at a Paloma Faith concert. Admittedly my first thought at discovering this was ‘good taste in music’ but then there are other elements to consider.
‘Outraging Public Decency’ is a thing, especially if minors were present (which they were at the Paloma concert). It’s always important to consider how your actions impact those around you, and what may be arousing and totally fine for you may be distressing or even triggering for some individuals. When you’re in public then your actions impact everyone, not just yourself, always consider this.
I do wonder what certain concerts are like, though. Y’know the kind—the stereotypical 60’s, free-love kind of affair, where sexual encounters are expected and enjoyed as much as the music that is being performed.
No doubt such concerts still exist in some form, and certain adult-only venues will also arrange their own events, but there aren’t (to my understanding) your typical concert affairs.
No, instead I think I join many in focusing mainly on the music, collective sway of the night, and candid moments between worker and celebrity that one can only really find at a live show.
Then again maybe I’m just a huge music dork and most people are thinking about sex. This is also a valid possibility—I’m often too mesmerized to notice.