Talking point: Do you ‘do it’ more in a tent?
“Sex in a tent? What rubbish!” I cry over the breakfast table.
A tent is no place for romance
In my experience a tent has got to be the worst location possible for a romantic coupling. For a start Stuart would never let me into his sleeping bag. He says I steal his heat. And he can’t get in mine because the zip has been broken in the zipped up position for the last four years.
And while tents always look lovely in the glow of a barbecue or the afternoon sun, when it comes to actually getting into one at bedtime, well one of us is always too hot. Too cold. Too tired.
Yet according to the survey of 500 couples by tent maker OLPRO, camping is a natural aphrodisiac. There were five reasons couples gave for getting it on more in the outdoors.
Fewer distractions (45%) came top. Fewer distractions? What about the cow mooing, the dog barking, the baby crying, the party going on in the next door tent, and the cars returning from their night out to the quaint English pub?
And that’s just the distractions outside the tent. Inside, there’s the not so sweet sound of children snoring. Of muted songs through discarded iPod headphones. Then there’s the smell. Someone in the tent always smells of bonfire, of sweat, of cowpat. Not an aphrodisiac. Not at all.
Fewer worries (37%) was next on the list. I worry all the time when I’m camping. Don’t’ you? I worry about the cows charging, the foxes stealing our food, the ants stealing into our shoes. I worry that the farmer will roll a tractor through the field in the early morning. That the couple next door with the paraffin heater will set fire to their tent and ours.
Our tent is now too small for us all so one of us has to sleep in the hooped tent outside. I worry that someone will steal the child. I worry that someone will steal the shoes they’ve left outside. I worry that a storm will come and blow us all away. Not very romantic. Not at all.
Being closer together was the third reason for wanting to climb on top of each other. What? In our tent we’re already on top of each other. We bought our tent when the kids were tiny and called it the ‘party tent’ because there was so much space. Now they are almost as tall as me they roll on me in the night. They slap me in their dreams. They steal my thermarest. Not a passion jumpstart. Not at all.
Yes, 7% put it down to an earlier bedtime. But if you crawl in too early then it’s still light. My skin does not look better in the green light of my Hilleberg or when the Terra Nova hoop bivvy forms a red halo around my head. And if you wait till it has turned dark then no one can find their sheet bag, and there’s an almighty row about who left the torch in the red pannier that’s still on the bike. Head torches can never be sexy. Not at all.
Being in the great outdoors
Being in the Great Outdoors (3%) was the final point. Now that’s just stupid. When you’re in the tent you’re not actually in the great outdoors are you? There’s a great big wodge of canvas between you and the fresh air.
I wander off to find Stuart. “People ‘want to do it’ more when they’re in the tent because it’s the Great Outdoors,” I scoff. “So tell me how are they part of the outdoors if they’re in a sheet bag, a sleeping bag, and a giant canvas pod? And who wants to have sex in the Great Outdoors anyway?”
He reminds me how two out of three of our children were conceived. One outside a tent in Chile. The other in a tent in New Zealand. Maybe there’s something in that survey?
Do you “do it” more in a tent? Is canvas the jump start your relationship needs?
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Talking Point is our series of conversation posts where we pick an idea or theme, post an opinion and invite you to join the conversation by leaving a comment below.