PSA: Yes, Seduction Is Cancelled.

Is Seduction Dead?

A question that has plagued us since the first cavewoman brought home a date, took off her heels and settled in on the couch with a bottle of wine. When, exactly, is the right time to make a move? What is the move? Are we allowed to make the move anymore? Can I drag nuance by the neck into aforementioned move-making, where part of the move involves expecting a no? (Hint: bitch no.) Clutching our pearls, we ask – is seduction cancelled?

In a word, probably.

If we look at it the way, we’ve been looking at it forever, good riddance too. It involved a ghastly unspoken contract where men assume that women are holding up a big bag of sex waiting to be convinced of why they should have it. Women withholding, denying or surrendering sex as something they have, and that men want. Much has been said about male idiocy in regards to going about the business of seduction, now making it something to be viewed with valid suspicion and weariness so I won’t dwell on it. (This excellent metaphor explains all the things to definitely avoid.) What I will ask, is this – if we took all the grime out, the power imbalance and entitlement out, do we have something left? The answer, of course, is yes.

A seduction is something that asking can’t ruin.

When a seduction is happening, and either party asks, “Hey, is this okay? Do you want this?” the answer will always come back slightly breathless with dilated pupils, saying yes. If the answer comes back anything apart from that impatient, half-laughing yes, it is not seduction. I’ve found this a great litmus test to be applied at every instance, just for the thrill of that answer – yes. It’s the sexiest word in the dictionary. Yes. Locking eyes and asking, under your breath, “Can I kiss you?” Yes. Not saying anything out loud and holding still, waiting for them to make a move, because the wait is a razor’s edge of delight. The keen and unbearably lovely tension of wondering – will they, won’t they? Pulling back lingering from a kiss to tease, just to see your partner chase forward, eyes closed and slightly desperate. Yes.

There’s nothing sexier than being wanted, and wanting. And women want. We don’t need to be convinced. When we do, we do, and you’ll know. If you don’t know, ask. If you’re afraid of asking will ruin the mood, trust me, there isn’t a mood to ruin. It’s just that same tired old thing, and an affront to desire. It’s the fuck yeah or fuck no rule – if it ain’t a fuck yeah, it’s a fuck no.

There’s sweetness for the male of the species who also, bashfully, would like to be seduced.  As Leon Redbone (man) put it in the classic song,

I want to be seduced

Want a woman to take me out to dinner for two

Like to see her eyes get moody

Flirting with the thought of what flirting ought to do

It’s the same tender terror that comes with reaching out to hold someone’s hand. It’s almost more intimate now than sex – will they clutch back, clammy-palmed? If they do, will one of you dare to move, tracing your thumb along suddenly electrified fingertips? It can feel like standing on a rope bridge above a gaping chasm with water roaring underneath – what if you fall? But also – what if you fly.

It’s never about the logistics and technicalities of which hand is where at what time in what specific angle ordained by the mystic powers of Men’s Health Magazine or the MRA grotesquerie. Like dancing, either you’re doing it or not – the movement matters together and is never a single move.  Sex starts in mind, and happens with a whole person – all of them, inside and out. It’s why it’s so scary to think of just asking – you put the power you have in, of who you are, someone else’s hands. It is everything that humanity is – silly, morbid, curious and scared, laughing and hungry. It has endless space for shyness and fumbling, awkwardness and nerves. It’s about feeling safe enough to be more naked than clothes can hide and to be more close than what bodies allow.

Good sex is not about what you can get; it’s about knowing that someone wants what you have to give. A baring of the throat, a setting down of arms. It is to let someone into that old, deep part of you that has the possibility of being hurt. It has nothing to with commitment, mind you. The most casual of one-night stands will have that vulnerability. The oldest, saggiest of relationships will too. A moment of truth.

The move is to say – here I am. Do you want me? That moment, taut with the unknown, will end one of two ways. Yes, or anything but. And nothing less than that joyous, life-affirming, resoundingly sexy yes will do.

Sexy Sadie’s just a girl who likes a good time. Every Saturday, she’ll be talking about sex.