Background: A politician has been having a love affair with a young Russian girl, who was accused of shagging him purely so she could find out state secrets. Well, this week the courts ruled that there was no evidence that she was a spy – she just loved him.

Liberal Democrat MP Mike Hancock is a sexy man. Perhaps not to you, but he certainly is to Katia Zatuliveter.

For some reason we are aghast. We are shocked. We, as a nation, have risen as one and cried “WTF” at the sheer implausibility of someone who is young and (let me just get out my arbitrary ‘hotness’ measuring device) sexy falling for a guy who is – shudder – old.
We are so gobsmacked, in fact, that we believed her to be a spy.

She was a young, blonde Russian, for a start, so of course she was a spy. But more than that, she just had to be a spy, because the very idea that she would have been fucking an older man for anything other than money is just utterly grotesque. Awful. Unthinkable.

In his judgement (in which he allowed that Mike’s ladyfriend was, on balance, not a spy) Mr Justice Mitting concluded that “however odd it might seem, she fell for him.”

Odd indeed. Why oh why would a young (bring out the arbitrary measuring stick again!), sexy blonde fall for a beardy old Lib Dem? While you try to hold down the rising feeling of nausea at the idea of intergenerational relationships, I’ll throw out a few ideas:

Older guys are wiser

More years = more time to ingest facts and stories. Listen to an older guy talk and you’ll hear interesting tales and scintillating nuggets that, in turn, will help you to appear wise when you’re older. Just look at the weight of sexy knowledge contained within the brains of old dudes such as Ian Hislop, David Attenborough and Jeremy Clarkson.

Older men have more sexual experience

While they may still only do it in the same range of sexual positions as you’re used to, older guys have more experience and patience in bed. They are definitely more likely to make you come because they’ve had more practise at doing it.

Older guys have the aura of authority figures

Hi, teacher/driving instructor/angry army sergeant at a training camp for filthy female recruits. Older guys are hot because they can tell you off and have you really believing it. They’re a bit like dads, and therefore more likely not only to spank you like you’ve been very naughty, but also buy you ice-cream and help with your homework.

Absolutely none of the above

You know what I love in a guy? An awesome sense of humour, a filthy mind, a liberal outlook, a willingness to tolerate my excessive swearing. I am not generally bothered by his weight, his height, his body hair, or the year that happens to be printed on his driving license.

Maybe Mike Hancock is a great cook. Maybe he’s a brilliant listener. Maybe he’s sensitive, charming, funny and absolutely stunning in bed. Perhaps he makes her gasp for air as he rails her like a man possessed.

Just because we pick out one particular feature of someone (in this case his age) and dwell on it obsessively, that doesn’t necessarily mean that it is the only thing that potential partners will focus on. And just because there is a huge difference in age that doesn’t necessarily mean that this girl has an age fetish.

Forget his age and appearance for just a fraction of a second, and consider that maybe, just maybe, she loves him because he’s great.

I’m not sure she’s really bisexual – she just likes the attention.

There’s no such thing as bisexuals.

All women are a bit bi really, aren’t they?

All of the above statements are utter bullshit.

The main reason they’re bullshit is, of course, because they write off people’s sexual feelings as things that can be easily dismissed rather than things which can shape someone’s entire life. No matter what you believe about sexuality, I’d hope everyone can see why this is the sort of thing that only a total arsehole would do.

However, more subtly, they’re bullshit because they assume that it is easy for us to put ourselves in someone else’s position and make judgments about what it is that floats their boat.

Being a bat

Philosophers and people who are generally interested in this sort of thing will be familiar with a paper on the nature of consciousness called ‘what is it like to be a bat?‘ It’s by a dude called Thomas Nagel and is an excellent intro to the problem of inner qualia – that feeling that it is like to be a thing.

I have massively simplified the issues here for the sake of analogy, but please do read the paper – it’s ace. 

I can know that bats ‘see’ using sonar, and I can (if I study a bit more than I have) understand exactly how they do that. But the problem is that no matter how detailed my studies I will never be able to experience the feeling of what it is like to actually be that thing.

More simply: picture something sexual. A slim guy being bear-hug-fucked by a much larger guy, for example. You’ve got an image in your head now, right?

I can look at a number of physical things to try and work out what’s going on – I can see if you’re turned on, I can measure your erection/wetness, and if I have kickass equipment I can even see exactly which parts of your brain are active – the synapses that are firing.

But no matter how much I study I will never be able to fully experience the feeling that you have. I won’t see the same image, nor understand exactly how you feel about this particular instance of guy-on-guy action.

Sexual feelings and consciousness

People have physical reactions to sexual things, which we can measure and replicate. They’re deliciously and delightfully scientific, which is why scientists love them. If you want to find out what someone likes the most simple way to measure it is to show it to them and see if they get hard.

But the problem with people is that they also have opinions and emotions which, to be frank, are a pain in the arse to measure. So what’s the best way, in day-to-day life, to establish what someone likes? Well, we fucking ask them.

And when we ask them, we do have to take what they say at face value. I no more know what’s going on in your head than you know that right now I’m wishing you’d slide your trousers down and start slowly stroking your growing erection.

I don’t know what turns you on. The only possible way I can know is for you to tell me. And you can tell me anything – you like being fucked by men, you like rubbing your cock against fully-clothed women, you like rolling around in a mish-mash of people of all different sizes, shapes, colours and genders – I believe you.

Am I bisexual?

Depends on whether you feel like one. Sometimes I like to fuck women, but it’s quite a rare thing for me to find girls that I genuinely fancy. I have a very specific type of girl, and there are some women who make me giggle and drool and stare longingly at their tits, wishing I could pick them up, have them wrap their legs around me, and push them up against a wall while I bury my face in the smooth warmth of their cleavage.

So I fuck women sometimes. But I’m not bi – I’m straight. I feel straight. I don’t wake up in the night craving passionate lesbian embraces, I wake up in the night sweating and panting and reaching for the nearest cock.

You might have a similar mix of sexual preferences, but think that the occasional fucking of your non-preference gender does make you bi. And that, kids, is absolutely fucking fine. Tick whichever box you like on your equal opportunities form, because only you know exactly what’s going on inside your head.

If you tell me you like a particular sexual act or type of person not only will I believe you but I will march loudly through the streets to defend your right to do it with any consenting adult you choose.

People can listen to you and advise and discuss and disagree, but no one has the right to tell you that you’re ‘not a proper bi guy’ because you’ve never been anally fucked. No one has the right to say that you’re definitely gay because you’ve only ever fucked people of the same gender, despite the fact that you have wide-ranging masturbatory fantasies that include both genders banging you until your body aches. On a personal note, no one has the right to tell me I’m bi because sometimes I look at ladies’ tits.

People can know what you do and are and say, but no one knows the feeling that it is like to be you. It’s unique and individual and brilliant and personal – assuming that I know your exact sexual feelings is like assuming I can navigate Oxford Circus using sonar.

So the next time someone tries to tell you there’s no such thing as bisexuals, or that all women are ‘a bit bi’ or that so-and-so is only bi for the attention, ask them what it’s like to be a bat. Thomas Nagel would like to know. And so would I.

Things it is not OK to do after sex

Ask a serious question

It’s not just women wanting to pillow-talk: guys do this too. From “do you love me?” to “how was it for you?” any question that’s going to require diplomacy or the accurate articulation of coherent thought should be ruled out.

Yeah, OK, your partner might well love you after you’ve banged twelve shades of awesome into their quivering, lustful body, but it doesn’t mean as much as it might under more considered circumstances. When I’m panting with post-sex exhaustion I’d happily declare my undying love to a passing springer spaniel.

Cry

This one probably goes without saying. Unless, through the weeping, your partner can just about make out the words “I’ve never had it so good.” or “Now I know what heaven feels like.”

Cuddle

It’s been suggested that cuddling releases Oxytocin – sometimes referred to as the ‘love hormone’. I am not entirely sure if this is good or bad science (feel free to correct me – I’ve had a read around and it looks OK) but whether it is or not, I think I do tend to develop stronger emotional bonds with people who snuggle me. Strong emotional bonds aren’t something I’m massively keen to develop, so cuddling: no.

Also, you know, we’ve just shagged – I’m probably quite hot. Get the fuck off me.

Secretly knock one out

Unsatisfying shag? It’s probably impolite to let your partner know by waking them up with furtive duvet rustling at 2 am.

Things it is OK to do after sex

Openly knock one out

If the sex was unsatisfying, why not tell your partner that you loved it enough you could go for some more? Sit on them, grab hold of the nearest sexy bit, and use your other hand to masturbate yourself to frothy completion.

Fart

I make a mild effort to not appear disgusting in front of boys – this effort increases the chance that I will get to fuck them again. But I couldn’t give a flying wank how disgusting they are in front of me. Everything they do is part of their sweating, rugged, testosterone-oozing charm.

So if we’ve just had sex, don’t do the far-away concentrating look and clench your arse-cheeks until you go red in the face. Fart away, gents – I’ll be far too shagged to care.

Chat shit

Deep and meaningfuls are right out, but you know what your partner might appreciate? Some joke you heard at lunchtime. Or a rant about people who stand on the left when they’re on a tube escalator. Or an ignorant opinion you picked up from the letters page of the Evening Standard on the way over.

If you want to talk after sex, make sure you say something they don’t have to put much effort in to listen to.

Go for a beer

Whether it’s problems with rigidity or issues with balance, being drunk makes sex slightly trickier. Why not switch the order of your evening and have a fantastic shag followed by post-fantastic-shag congratulatory beers?

Fistbump

We’re both pretty pleased with ourselves right? Right. We both got laid, right? Right. Let’s celebrate our mutual victory in time-honoured fashion.

High fives are also acceptable.