An Uneducated View of Sex, Food and Politics - Derek Haines (beach read book .TXT) 📗

facet of our society has changed. Similarly also in many other western cultures. The one facet that has been singularly Australian in this process of changing attitudes and tastes has been the food we eat and enjoy in our homes and restaurants. 1960 was firmly a time of the ‘three veg and meat’ meals. Sundays was roast dinner day. The special treat of the week was of course Friday night fish and chips.
Today we enjoy food from every corner of the earth. There is no doubt that this is due to the most successful and harmonious immigration scheme ever achieved by any country in the world. Today we eat for enjoyment as opposed to simple sustenance, as was the case in 1960. To see and hear people discussing and savouring food is a wondrous achievement.
In 1960 food was definitely just simply ‘petrol for your body’s engine’. Today food is a sensory delight. Still just as important to the maintenance of simply living and ensuring our body’s function, but a new enjoyment has been added. An appetite for the unknown, unexpected or sought after flavours that promise oral orgasm. The expectation that lights our saliva glands and ignites our passion. Call me a glutton anytime, I will not be offended or dissuaded. My body has two distinct appetites, and as these are both natural, and have existed in mankind forever, I refuse to not follow the curiosity they both invoke.
I like curious people. If I were to describe myself in one word, curious would be a very suitable description. The want and desire, which can be insatiable sometimes, to know, can be a hard control. Often, the only way to satisfy curiosity is to experiment. I wonder who first experimented with coffee, chocolate and lamb chops. Undoubtedly it was a curious person.
Reverting back to hunger and appetite for a moment, it has been a constant source of wonder to me, how similar the two basic appetites are. Both are necessarily a part of our instincts to perpetuate our species’ survival. Both are instinctive, although it takes a few years to figure out the second, (and it also occupies a great deal of time and consideration during our younger years.) Both can be insatiable desires until satisfied. And once satisfied, disappear completely, and to a satisfaction that is so full, that it is almost incomprehensible to imaging the desire returning. Or is it possible that the satisfaction of either appetite fulfils both at the same time? At the completion of a three course meal, and with my stomach crying out in pain for me to at least have a heart and let my belt be loosened by one hole, the last thing I could possibly imagine is wanting to immediately sweep the table clear, and have sex on the table. No. Indeed not. My hunger for food is satiated, and so it would seem is my lust appetite.
Conversely, after a late evening of total abandonment and the fulfilment of my testosterone induced appetite for rampant sex on the living room floor, all I want is to enjoy the ‘petite mort’ and go to sleep! Food? Not likely. Just a glass of water and let me die in peace!
I am not sure whether my theory regarding the link of the two appetites will stand much scrutiny from experts in these respective fields. All I can say is that I am very comfortable with my conclusions, and from my own personal experiences, I am satisfied that I have conducted enough research on the matter to be fully convinced, and therefore a complete believer in my own theory. Do not believe from these previous conclusive sounding statements, that I plan to rest on my laurels. No, I will continue with my line of research into this connection with great enthusiasm. Perhaps if I reduced the meal to two courses, the chances of sustaining enough of the remnants of the lust appetite may survive to allow the possibility of having the will to clear the table, and spontaneously enter into rampant copulation with my Morticia. This proposition is of course based on the fact that Morticia and I are dining alone. If we are not, then perhaps this experiment had better be continued at another time.
14 Vegetables had to be boiled all afternoon in 1960, and meat cooked for nearly as long to ensure perfection. Don’t your taste buds hanker for the delights of 1960?
15 One of which is food. The other, as I have mentioned before will come in following chapters. I promise!
16 Or morning, or afternoon!
17 I just adore this expression. I know I promised not to use expressions that had you running off to a dictionary or French phrase book, but this one is too much of a favourite. To save you looking for your French for Traveller’s handbook, it means ‘little death’. A perfect description for that ‘after sex, couldn’t give a fuck about anything’ type of feeling.
My father often said to me, when the very infrequently visited subject of sex entered a conversation between us, “Just give me a hot dinner any time!” It used to puzzle me for many years, but all of a sudden, the expression has taken on an understanding and depth for me. This may prove to me, that as I embark on what I thought was ground breaking research, that my father has already concluded this investigation well before me. Perhaps I should just drop him a note, or telephone him and simply ask if he has already conducted the ‘two course’ experiment that I am only theorising about. He has in all likely known the answer to this question for many years, and has proved it or disproved it many times to be sure of the answer. Will I ask him? Of course not! This, as with so many questions about life, is something I want to find out for myself. Where is the fun in being told the answer? I may as well throw my curiosity straight out of the proverbial door!
Far better I call him up and ask him what the weather is like there. Or should I reserve the right to compare my notes with him after my experiment is complete. No, there is no point in that either. It wouldn’t matter. Who would it benefit? I am sure my son will not ask me for the answer when he is ready to ask the question. He will, as my father and I have done, find out for himself.

******

Sitting alone in a restaurant, watching all the comings and goings of people and their social habits and customs, is a lonely but not unpleasant experience. This occurrence happened to me recently while travelling interstate. I had arranged to meet an old friend, but bad luck struck our plans, as his daughter had an accident at work. He received the unfortunate news as he was on his way to meet me for lunch. Concerned for his daughter’s welfare, but undeterred, I decided to lunch alone. Obviously, with my friend on his way to the hospital, I was to have lunch alone anyway, so I should rephrase and say I continued with the planned lunch at the appointed restaurant, but planned now to enjoy it alone.
As a very normal hungry male, I can assure you that as a sight, there is little to compare with what I am about to describe. I ordered my meal. Fillet Steak and Bugs served on a flaming sword. Sounded delicious! Not to mention, the vision of the food being served from a flaming sword to my plate. The expectation was mouth watering. A pre-lunch beer satisfied my working morning’s acquired thirst. After a passage of time of approximately fifteen minutes, a sight to behold materialised before me. From the swinging door to the kitchen, which was fully in my forward view, came a tall, leggy blonde. Her face adorned with a smile, adding extra appeal to an already charming face. Her wavy blond hair cut to sit just on her shoulders. Shining red high heel shoes that craved attention from any man. A small, barely noticeable red G-string. Her young, buoyant, full and proud breasts, adorned with slightly erect nipples as a result of the ambient air temperature. And held aloft in her right hand was my flaming sword of fillet steak and bugs! She glided towards me, unhurried, on her mission to deliver my meal.
I had not pointed out to you earlier, the nature of this particular restaurant. Needless to say, I did not want to spoil the element of surprise in my revelation. Of course I knew of this eating establishment prior to my luncheon appointment. It has a fame that is known well outside its city or state boundaries. Many have copied this particular restaurant’s concept, but very few have succeeded. The one missing ingredient I have noticed in copiers of this famed place is class. Simply a lack of class. The success over now decades, has not been because naked women serve tables. This, one can get anywhere. What makes this experience totally enjoyable is the combination, and satisfaction of the dual appetites.
18 For those concerned about my friend’s daughter. She hurt her hand and has made a full recovery.
Firstly the food is first class. First class in preparation, taste and presentation. Without any of the provided trimmings, the meal in itself would satisfy any discerning pallet. The addition of well delivered service by attentive, intelligent and diligent table staff, is always an attraction at any restaurant. But add to these solid foundations a touch, or in this case, lashings of the erotic, and you have a sensorial pleasure feast. Being served attentively by intelligent naked women is something I would never refuse. My maleness, and the fact that sight is my most powerful sense, worked to satisfy both of my appetites at once.
My only regret for the afternoon was that I should have left a little earlier. For some reason, some of the class I felt earlier was stripped away when one of the waitresses was ‘raffled’ as a serving dish for strawberries and cream. A little fat man, with balding head, and a well developed belly, was proclaimed the winner. She lay naked on his table, and watching him eat cream dipped strawberries from various parts of the young woman’s body just took the top off what had been a wonderful experience. Had I won the raffle, maybe my viewpoint would have been different. Could I be honest enough to answer this question?
There are some, I am sure, who would find the concept of this place repulsive or disgusting. To you I say, you are entitled to that view, and I will not argue to dissuade you from your view. In return though, I would ask you for the same respect of my views. I just loved it! I want more. I cannot wait to go back. Maybe my Morticia will come with me next time, so she can give me an alternative viewpoint. It would also mean there is a possibility of ordering TWO flaming swords! Of course, this leaves me wondering. Would they be delivered by one naked woman with both arms raised in the air in triumphant approach to our table? Or would they be delivered by two naked women? Each looking like a nude, walking, talking Statue of Liberty. My mind is ablaze with the possibilities! Both of my basic appetites are alive and running.
Food and sex. Our basic cravings. Our basic sustainers of life. Both simple to the extreme, but so wonderfully complicated, sophisticated, varied, discussed, analysed, scrutinised, practised, maligned, twisted, revered, rejected, infected, neglected, tested but on the whole enjoyed by us all. Call me a glutton. I shall not be embarrassed or shamed. And why should I?
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