The Sex Life of Food

The Sex Life of Food
By Bunny Crumpacker

Surely, that’s not her real name.

The book starts out fantastic, it’s like a Harlequin romance of food. Everybody knows food and sex should be sensual. Very sexy, descriptive language, the sort of thing that makes dining in bed seem like a necessity, not a welcome luxury. Unlike a Harlequin book, it blows its load early on, and there’s not the obligatory second to the last chapter sex scene. I wanted this to be great, and if it left out the boring parts it would be.


Here’s some examples of the good:

German psychologist Alfred Gebert talked to women about what their men were like as lovers, and then correlated those findings with the way each man age/ “there were amazing similarties,” Gebert said. He added that a woman looking for a certain kind of lover could make fairly accurate predictions by watching the way a man eats—then she’d know “whether to make an excuse and leave—or accept the invitations home for a cup of coffee.”

His findings: If you’re looking for a strong man, one who takes control, avoid men who mash their food up and eat several things together. If they eat in that mushy way they tend to lack new ideas in bed, the doctor said. A man who eats his vegetables before the meat is self-absorbed: better to avoid him. Men who play with their food, making patterns with it on the place, are probably good company, sympathetic, and generous—they even have the potential to be good fathers. Avoid men who season their food without even tasting it. “Men like that are bossy and controlling,” said Gebert, “They are traditional and like men to be men, and they like their women in the kitchen.”

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Both pornography and fast food de-emphasize the personal and the intimate. Both are mass order; they’re tailored for people in a hurry, people avoiding intimacy, people seeking easy satisfaction, people who wish to make no commitment or take any undue effort, who at heart would prefer to eat and to love alone.

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There’s a pretty interesting section on restaurants that would serve you in a private room, often with a bed, so you could do as you wished.
They were a literal memory of the first public eating places, which were indeed broth4es, combining two eternal needs, two glorious pleasures….Restaurant boudoirs were meeting places for men and their mistresses, for those who had high hopes, and for discreet lovers. How much more appealing than a motel on the outskirts of town!

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The book also tipped me off to this School Dinners place in London.