Yesterday evening, over a meal, it was gently suggested to me that I might be a prude. I denied it, but you know, I probably am just a little prudish, or would seem so to a good many people.
The accusation - gently made, as I said - came from someone who must have been thirty years younger than me, of a younger generation anyway. It didn't perturb me. My accuser couldn't have read any of my blog. If she had, she would have realised that I can speak with perfect ease of any body part and its function. So if you want a monologue on vaginas, I can oblige. And I can talk glibly about penises too, and I've known about King Missile's cool track Detachable Penis (see YouTube) for donkeys years.
However, if you want me to strip off and simulate orgasm at a party, as a big joke, then no I won't. In fact if there's any suggestion of swinging, or sexy party games, I will discreetly take some fresh air and go home to the soothing companionship of my teddy bear and a good book. It's not that I disapprove, or want to strike attitudes about standards of behaviour - it's very much chacun a son gout with me - but I am unwilling to get mixed up in anything that might slide out of my personal control. If that's prudery, then I'm a prude.