I was chatting the other day to my internet friend Gingerlily, when a weird thought occurred. Could we have an internet rating system for sex?
We rate just about everything else. If we have a bad cup of coffee, we can get our revenge by leaving a one star review on Tripadvisor. Just wasted two hours of your life watching an awful movie? Then leave a damning review on IMDB or Rotten Tomatoes.
Amazon even allows us to rate the little things in life. Here is someone … a genuine someone – giving a five star rating for a pack of paper clips.
1 of 1 people found the following review helpful
5.0 out of 5 stars Amazing A***, 5 Dec. 2011
This review is from: 5 Star Paperclips Metal Large 33mm Lipped [Pack of 1000] (Office Product)
Fast Delivery…Good Value For Money as i found it to be the cheapest online. Strong, Small Packaging, Would definitely recommend.
Oh yes. This really is a review of a pack of 1,000 paper clips. There must be something damned special about these paper clips because 12 people have taken the time to review them. Ten gave the paperclips the full five stars. Two hard to please customers had dipped down to four stars. Picky!
This is doubly confusing. First, why should a jury of twelve human beings feel the need to tell the other 7 billion people in the world about how wonderful these particular paper clips are?
It is good to see people giving their own time to help each other, but … c’mon guys, these are paperclips for Pete’s sake! This isn’t the Mona Lisa or the Taj Mahal. No-one is going to make a life-changing decision on the basis of your recommendations.
The second thing that puzzles me is that paper clips are an invention of the devil. A paperclip is a fiendish device for giving you the illusion that two pieces of paper are joined together, whilst giving them every opportunity to wriggle apart. A paper clip is only a failed staple.
If I ruled the world, no paper clip would ever get more than two stars. And only then if it came in pretty colours.
Instead of reviewing things that don’t need reviews, why don’t we give ratings for things that matter?
Why don’t we have a rating for sex?
Picture the scene. You are lying in bed, sweaty, tousled of hair, spent. Your whole being is suffused with that unique warm glow that only nooky can give. There are discarded clothes scattered all over the bedroom.
You might be reflecting on your own achievements. Perhaps you made your partner purr with pleasure, or maybe you achieved some particularly challenging piece of bedroom gymnastics.
All in all, you are feeling pretty good about life.
What could be more natural in this digital age than to reach for your iphone and give a rating for the experience? We could invent a whole new rating site … Shagadvisor or Amabonk.
I can see it now. We would have a five star rating system:
Five stars – the Earth moved
Four stars – the bedposts rattled
Three stars – it was no worse than usual
Two stars – haven’t you finished yet?
One star – have you started?
You can imagine how popular this would be. All round the world, people would be desperate to record their amorous excellence … or to complain about their partner’s lack of (1) effort, (2) cleanliness, (3) enthusiasm, (4) dimensions or (5) longevity.
Some would give themselves ratings for events that only took place in their imaginations. But that’s okay for us. We would sell advertising space on the website. So it doesn’t matter whether the horizontal mamba really took place or not.
I can predict a few problems. We would need to decide whether people were ranking the entire experience, their own performance or their partner’s performance. Or partners plural, if you go to those sorts of parties.
If we are ranking the entire performance then we might find that the two (or more) participants have a different point of view.
“Five stars. It was fantastic! We ripped each other’s clothes off and went at it for hours like wild beasts.”
“Two stars. He made me dress up like Wonder Woman. Again. Left his socks on. He broke wind when he thought I wouldn’t notice. At least it was over in five minutes. As usual.”
Wouldn’t it be a bit weird if people we didn’t know came along later and “liked” our reviews? Maybe that’s why the neighbours have a telescope in their back garden?
Alternatively, we could rank each other’s performance. A post-coitus five star review might become part of the etiquette of sex – a little thank you note for letting me do that little thing that I really like.
It could become part of the natural rhythm of lurve. After it’s finished you would reach for the Kleenex, a cigarette, your ipad … and then he falls asleep. And snores.
Just imagine if your entire sex life was set out on a website, with rankings for every partner and fumbling from your teens to the twilight of your life. Previous lovers could leave bitter and twisted one star reviews full of hate when it was all over.
Okay, maybe not.
What do you think? Would it catch on?
And here’s a funny thing. Right now, most of us would be thinking that this is a silly idea. It could never work.
But there would be one or two rubbing their hands in excitement. They will go away, write an app to do just this, build up an instant following of millions of people, make a ton of money from the advertising and then sell the rights to Microsoft or Amazon for billions.
Perhaps Microsoft will add it to their Office suite of programs? Then we would have Word, Excel, Powerpoint, Outlook and … Secretary?
In all likelihood, it’s already out there. It’s the story of my life – I can’t help feeling that everyone else is having more fun than I am. And they’re not telling me about it.
So I fully imagine that this rating system already exists. For all I know, some of my humble and infrequent exploits might be reviewed there. There was that time … and that one … and, gulp, THAT one.
Now that’s a dreadful thought.