BEN GILBERT - THE NATIONAL SEX CONSENSUS BOARD

Ben Gilbert founded TheBlueSpace Co-operative, Nepal and works as a guide, worldwide. His publications are:

- The World Peace Journals (2013) Garuda Books.
- No Place Like Home (2013) Garuda Books.
- Mumbo Jumbo (2015) Garuda Books
- Al Khadra, Poems with Meaning, (2013) UnitedPress
- Lumpit, short story (2019) Poached Hare Journal
- When the North Star Falls (coming Dec 2019) Fear of Monkeys Journal

​#The National Sex Consensus Board (Part One)

The slow moving river sparkles here and there in the moonlight. Two men sit at a wooden slated table, staring out beyond the water into darkness, listening to the chorus of a hot summer night. Behind them, the house, flanked by an immaculate cut lawn. They drink whiskey watered down with copious amounts of soda.
‘I’m telling you, we’re not decent.’
‘Speak for yourself, not for me.’
‘If we were, you wouldn’t need a front door lock, that terrible car alarm that shrills half the night scaring wildlife, or that rude light and camera peering over your manicured lawn.’
‘That’s not me being indecent...dam, I mean not-decent, it’s all the others, anyway it’s not manicured...’
They both laugh.
‘Remember that girl?’
‘Can’t you just drop it - she slapped me round the face, so what?’
‘Guess you’re not so decent after all.’
’You know, hot summer night, few drinks, seemed right.’
‘For you, soon fell apart when you grabbed her ass and kissed her lips hard. Look at the trouble it got you in.’
‘Lost me my job, ended up at the station half the night. God it was embarrassing, had to say sorry a thousand times, beg forgiveness, blame it on the drink...and then move house. I just wanted her. Is that so indecent?
‘It is now.’
‘Trouble is, we don’t have rules, real rules on the correct way to date.’
‘We need laws to stop this indecency, otherwise I’ll be forever moving house.’
They burst out laughing, pour another drink and raise a toast.
‘The rules!’
‘Let’s take the boat into the swamp, might see fish spawning under moonlight. Grab the whiskey.’
At the end of the lawn, where the ground gently falls away to the water’s edge, lies a wooden canoe. Moments later they are paddling through small vegetated channels under the canopy of tall trees. Here and there, moonlight cuts a beam and shimmers in the gentle ripples. The noise of insects, birds and frogs drowns the whispers.
‘What was that?’
‘Just saying that it’s me and you who need to write the rules...for our own protection.’
‘If it becomes law, we’ll never have sex again!’
They laugh some more, passing the bottle between them.
‘It will have to start with an interview – both interested parties.’
‘How will they meet?’
‘Not sure, something online, like a government app.’
‘Then a blood and genetic test to make sure you don’t have plague or related to Frankenstein.’
‘References...’
‘Do you think anyone will go through this twice? Imagine the stamina you’d need!’
‘Of course it will cost, after which a date can be had.’
‘A controlled meeting, maybe a drink or two, no more. Would there be a handler to make sure the rules are being followed?’
‘Probably, then the next phase could be initiated after a feedback session.’
‘Consent to go ahead.’
‘Yeah, but no touching yet, that would come after a few more reviews.’
‘So when do we get to have sex in all this?’
‘Not sure, they’d have to be a meeting, a panel of experts, could take months.’
‘Oh, you mean: The National Sex Consensus Board.’
‘Hey, that’s brilliant.’
‘Who would go through with it? Who would actually ever end up having sex?’
‘You know, these kids with all their apps, no real life, end up having sex through mobiles.’
‘OK, here we are – see any fish?’
‘No, they didn’t pass the test. Maybe next year.’

​

#The National Sex Consensus Board (Part Two)
​

It’s tricky, this sex thing. I wonder if anyone’s really doing it anymore. If not, that’s a problem, because everyone out there, including you, comes from sex: good sex, bad sex, interesting sex, boring sex, abusive sex, gang rape – that’s how we’re all made, like it or not. What kind of sex made you? Do you know? Have you asked? Maybe you should, learn why you’re the way you are, or not.
I wanted to have a date, you know the kind of boy girl thing where no one mentions sex but it’s on everyone’s mind. Normal stuff, you may say – but you just wait; these days, this is how it has to happen.
It’s an App, of course. I found a nice looking girl with all the right box ticks and I guess she must have said the same about me. We both had to fill in a consent form and agree to the terms, for this date.
A few rules:

1. A meeting in a coffee shop, in public view and open to scrutiny.
   
2. No mention of sex or any flirting allowed.
   
3. Etc 
   

We send off our consent forms and get a response to proceed. We meet. She looks pretty just like in her photo. Nice dress, makes her body look sexy. I want her now. Alas, I can’t, there are the rules, so I pretend I am some sort of bore and ask dumb questions about her job and family. She does the same with me. I can’t flirt, it runs the risk of incarceration, a month of correction therapy.
We have permission for a twenty-minute chat. After which, we have a discussion about the next phase, if we agree to a next phase, that is. Of course, this requires another form, filled in by the both of us. We agree to flirt but there can be no touching or any suggestion of sex, whatsoever. The forms sent off, we have permission to proceed for thirty minutes more.
We flirt. It’s a body language thing, some laughter, a few mild innuendos. She goes to the bathroom and comes back wearing bright red lipstick. I love red lips. She does a twirl before sitting down, the dress rising, showing her legs. I could do a twirl but that would show me bursting out of my trousers and she may shriek. I don’t want to run the risk of being dragged off, drugged and kept out of harm’s way for six months or so. Is she feeling it? I daren’t ask.
Thirty minutes is up. We now discuss if we want a third phase. By the way, there’s no choice in all of this – these are the rules, like it or leave.
We agree, more forms, sent off and approved. It’s coffee at her place. Now, that means coffee and chat, perhaps some more flirting, I’m not exactly sure. When we arrive, she reports in, all is going to plan, sorry, I mean to the rules.
We have coffee and some lesser type of flirting. Maybe she’s unsure. There’s another form to fill and send off. At last, we can kiss. No tongues and no fondling. We get ten minutes. 
She’s unsure but agrees to some kind of touching. It seems her bum is in limits but breasts completely off limits.
More forms, another permission.
She has to check in after five minutes. Her bum is nice, soft, not hard sinew like those over toned athlete types.
I’m going crazy.
She decides to remove her bra. I have to keep all my clothes on, even my shoes. This form is a long one. Her bra comes off, her dress still on but I’m not allowed to touch. Approved, we kiss, tongues this time.
We’re still about ten forms away from being naked and then many more before sex.
I make my excuse; have to be at work early. 
Back home, I feel exhausted. My flat mate looks at me and laughs.
‘Been on a date…how many forms did you manage?’
‘A few, left before I went crazy, did something stupid or fell asleep. Have you ever managed to get to the end and actually do it?’
‘Don’t have the stamina. Apparently it takes up to six hours to get all the paperwork done.’
‘Exhausting – is it true, there was a time…?
‘Still is...around the corner, next to the fried chicken shop, there’s a red door. Knock twice, someone will answer. You get handed a menu. Everything has a price and a time limit. You choose, cash only...and forget that kissing stuff, it’s just yucky. No forms, no prison and no review board.’
‘Feeling hungry?



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