Boringly moderate

I'm a remarkably un-obsessive and un-addictive person. I'm boringly moderate about virtually every-thing*. I have no habits so out-of-control that they soak up money, ruin my health, burden other people, or might get me sacked.

I've never smoked. I drink very little alcohol. I don't gamble. I don't visit prostitutes. I don't use porn. I don't have affairs. I don't crave junk food. I don't go in for plastic surgery. I don't self-harm. I've taken "fun" drugs just four times. As I say, boringly moderate. Yawningly restrained.

The things that blight other people's lives either don't interest me, actively repulse me or satisfy me in modest amounts. I don't feel the urge to grab more and more of something, to binge crazily on something well past the point of initial pleasure.

Many people would say I'm just afraid of living, letting my hair down, having a good time. I'm too self-controlled, too "sensible", too inhibited. Maybe that's true. But I feel I've had a great life and I'm not conscious of missing some vital experience by being so moderate.

In some people's eyes, this natural restraint makes me smug, or self-righteous, or censorious. I hope not. I really feel for people who're in the grip of some all-consuming addiction that's wrecking them and is the despair of of their helpless loved ones. Like the richly talented but so susceptible Amy Winehouse.

I suppose I've always believed in the saying "A little of what you fancy does you good." Too much of what you fancy and the pleasure will wear off rapidly, leaving you jaded and disappointed. For other people though "You can't have too much of a good thing" rules the day.

* Well, except politics. And religion. And meat-eating.

Opting out

It's still quite a brave step for a woman to deliberately abstain from sex. It's still a far from acceptable attitude. Men (and women) who think you should always be sexually available can get shockingly critical and abusive.

Frenchwoman Sophie Fontanel has written a semi-autobiographical book about her experiences as a sexual abstainer, something that is still very much a taboo subject. It has struck quite a chord with readers who feel under pressure to have sex.

She says the first ten years of her adult life were full of disappointing sex - mechanical and often pleasure-less. So she took the radical step of refusing sex entirely for the next twelve years. And apparently hardly missed it.

The real shock though was how nasty other people were about it. They showered her with insults. She was called frigid, abnormal, bitter, neurotic, a lesbian, a reactionary Catholic. Even the most seemingly sophisticated people joined in the cat-calling.

But when she wrote about her experiences, many readers expressed gratitude for her raising the issue, as they also felt badgered to have sex they didn't want.

She insists there's nothing wrong with abstaining. "Some of the most interesting characters exist above sex. It's not an infirmity. No sex is infinitely preferable to bad sex."

Well, good for her. Why should it be praiseworthy to be always jumping into someone's bed but disgraceful to be saying, "I've had enough of crap sex, I'm opting out altogether, so don't even think about it"?

In fact there are large numbers of asexuals who have no interest in sex at all, but they tend to keep quiet about it because of people's derision and incomprehension. Odd as it may seem, their attitude is just as natural as the more fashionable quest for sexual pleasure.

Pic: Sophie Fontanel

Lust-free

It seems that asexuals, or people with no interest in sex, have a lot of difficulty getting others to accept their disinterest.

In a world preoccupied with sex and finding sexual partners, where the media is awash with scantily clad women and advice on seduction techiques, those who're naturally indifferent to sex are still regarded as oddities - or suffering some sort of psychological problem.

An estimated one per cent of the population are thought to be asexual, and one asexuality website has over 50,000 members. There are plenty of couples who're perfectly happy without any love-making.

Yet whenever they "come out" to other people, sooner or later it'll be suggested that they're not really asexual, that actually there's something else going on.

They haven't found the right person, they're sexually repressed, they've been abused, they're secretly gay, it's a temporary phase, they're late developers. And so on and so on.

But why shouldn't people simply be uninterested in sex? Is that really so strange? It's just one sort of pleasure among a thousand others, and not everyone finds it essential. Life won't come to a grinding halt if a few people don't share the universal obsession.

And obsession it certainly is. Asexuals say they find it extremely tedious listening to workplace conversations that so often revolve around sex and the sexual attractiveness of workmates. They're mystified by the time and effort devoted to the topic.

But in our sex-sodden world, someone who never feels the tug of lust or the frisson of a naked body can be hard to comprehend. What, lacy underwear or rippling biceps do nothing for you? Nothing at all? What's WRONG with you?

Noisy eaters

For some people, social occasions can be completely ruined by noisy eaters. The sound of their companions munching, crunching, slurping and sucking drives them round the bend. They just want to flee somewhere where food is not being eaten and the dreadful background noise ceases.

There's a big difference between Jenny and me here. I've never been bothered by eating noises but some sounds make Jenny cringe with discomfort. She's been known to leave the room when I'm eating something particularly cacophonous.

It seems this horror of eating noises is surprisingly common. Many people have their pet aversions to the consumption of cornflakes or toast or crisps or apples. Or drinks being slurped or sucked through straws.

Whole households can have their private rules about what can or cannot be eaten, and in what way, in order to soothe the delicate sensibilities of one family member or another.

It's a particularly knotty problem in public places like offices or trains, when objecting to someone else's noisy eating might bring a very angry response and the charge of being a tight-arsed killjoy out to spoil other people's pleasure.

In any case, it may not be possible to mute the noise. If it's determined by the way you eat, the size of your jaw, or the shape of your teeth, there may be nothing you can do about it.

No, eating noises don't perturb me in the slightest. Food is meant to be eaten and enjoyed, every which way. What annoys me far more is the quantity of food-related debris dumped thoughtlessly on pavements - crisp packets, takeaway cartons, coffee cups, sandwich wrappers. Why can't the eaters just keep their rubbish to themselves?

Pic courtesy of Guardian/Getty Images

Enough is enough

In one of the papers today, four teetotallers explain how awkward it can be when they're surrounded by drinkers all happily chucking booze down their throats.

Inevitably when they refuse any alcohol, those who enjoy it keep asking why they abstain. Wouldn't they have more fun if they had a glass or two? Is it a religious principle? Are they recovering alcoholics?

The idea that they simply don't like the taste of alcohol, or they don't like hangovers, or they enjoy themselves fine when they're sober, seems to mystify people. How can you not want to ingest as much of the stuff as possible?

I'm subject to this sort of questioning sometimes, as I drink very little and find two glasses are more than enough to blur my brain and senses in a way I find embarrassing and annoying. My tolerance for alcohol is very limited, and it does nothing at all for my sociability or my intelligence.

But there's still the general assumption that I should be drinking more, that I can't really enjoy myself without at least a bottle of wine inside me. There's even an attitude that if I don't wake up the next morning with a colossal hangover, my evening out must obviously have been a washout.

Well, sorry, but I like my alcohol in moderation, too much of it does nothing for me whatever. If others genuinely relish non-stop quantities of it, good luck to them, though when I see people lurching out of pubs, vomiting profusely and having to be taken home by others for their own safety, I do have my doubts.

Can this really be pleasure? And am I really just a miserable killjoy?
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The Belgian city of Ghent now has a weekly vegetarian day, to counter the impact of livestock on the environment. Nice one!

Pleasure seekers

Companies may be collapsing in droves because of the economic crisis, but one business that's flourishing like never before is sex toys.

Shops and firms that market them report surging sales as the old image of seedy backstreet dives full of shifty men in dirty raincoats has been ousted by a more enticing picture of uninhibited men and women routinely enhancing their pleasure.

Sales of sex toys are up by a staggering thirty to thirty-five per cent on a year ago. They're increasingly given as presents - even wedding gifts. One company suggests the platinum vibrator with diamonds (£2275) for the bride, and the gold-plated ones (£227) for the bridesmaids.

After all, if the credit crunch means you can no longer afford that up-market restaurant or that designer dress, you can always stay at home and get your pleasure a cheaper way. Well, maybe with plastic rather than platinum.

To cater for all tastes, there are even environmentally-friendly sex toys like feather tickle-sticks and wooden spanking rulers.

Of course the rising popularity of sex toys has prompted criticism that they are just a new source of female insecurity, leading women to think their sexuality can only be fully enjoyed with an expensive, designer-label gizmo. On the other hand, whatever floats your boat, as they say.

Apparently men no longer feel threatened by vibrators, fearing their male functions to be redundant. Now they realise a little technical help in that department can be handy, increasing the pleasure for both them and their partner.

So the next time you wander into that distinguished restaurant and find it's deserted, there could be a simple explanation. All those missing diners have finally sliced up their credit cards and taken to their beds.
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Goodness me, it's my second blogiversary this very day. Have I really been churning out this drivel for as long as that?
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Jade Goody was rather upstaged at THAT wedding by Jack Tweed and his pals leaving home in nothing but scanty female underwear. Brilliant! A hearty thumbs-up for cross-dressers everywhere!