Catherine Townsend: Sleeping Around

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The Independent Online

I laughed out loud when I read about the Italian scientists claiming to pinpoint the location of the G-spot via ultrasound this week because I had a flashback. It's more than 10 years ago now, but I remember it like it was yesterday. It's of my high-school boyfriend John, who, bless him, claimed to have a "signature move" that would make us have simultaneous orgasms (not that I knew what one felt like back then!). "I'm close," he would say, then, encouragingly, "Go ahead, I'll wait for you!" So, I did what women have probably been doing for generations, and rolled my eyes to the back of my head, pretended to thrash around a bit and looked satisfied.

But I don't blame John. I couldn't expect my partners to go on epic quests for my pleasure when I couldn't even bring myself to masturbate. If I wanted to discover the holy grail of my G-spot, I was going to have to get there myself, first.

I've also had the G-spot on the brain because I've been seeing a lot of Andrew, my once-married ex-boyfriend, because he's now divorced, and wants us to get back together. I still care about him, but I'm not sure. Still, the chemistry is amazing – he was one of the only boyfriends that I've ever had spontaneous vaginal orgasms with, probably because we spent ages assuming the necessary positions and I was very comfortable with him. Media reports have focused on the divisive portion of the findings: some women have the "magical" G-spot, which translates as slightly thicker tissue in the urethrovaginal space, while the "frigid" ones don't. Other researchers said it was unclear whether the team had identified a G-spot structure or an internal part of the clitoris.

But a far more interesting bit in the New Scientist piece was the claim that rather than being the cause of more orgasms, having orgasms more frequently may lead to better-developed musculature in this area. My experiences back this up. My orgasms while at university were unsatisfactory until I bought a vibrator and wedged my foot against the bathroom door (I shared with four flatmates, and we didn't have a lock!). My first attempts were weak, but like an Olympic athlete, I kept up the training, and reaped the rewards.

I told Andrew about the piece I was writing. "That's fantastic," he said, "You are right, practice does make perfect." After an entire night in bed, he said: "God, I've missed you. Let me take you away for a night next week." I closed my eyes, picturing a hotel room with champagne and sex toys. Bliss.

Then he struck terror into my heart. "I want you to meet my kids," he said ."Don't you think it's a bit soon?" I replied. "We would only be seeing them for the afternoon. But I'll leave it up to you." Talk about a voyage into the unknown.

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