(This post was published when Durex had announced a hoax – that it would introduce a brinjal-flavoured (!) condom to its range. The condom brand, today, announced an umbrella-shaped emoji, which in itself has received myriad reactions.)
Bow to the strawberry… the chocolate… the orange, the apple, the – brinjal? Durex, the go-to rubber for millions of global sexcapades, appeared to ‘announce’ on Monday that they have cracked the big baingan theory. Or, in ‘layman’s terms’, had introduced what they assumed was vital to the whole condom pantheon: an eggplant flavoured rubber.
Twitter laughed itself into a tizzy and made all the fun it could – and Durex sat back and watched it happen, till it announced yet again that there never was a ‘baingan’ to begin with.
All a hoax, then.
All great and funny. We’ve had our laughs, cracked a few jokes around phallus-shaped fruits, vegetables and condiments and basically gotten back to our lives. Because, after all, it’s no big deal, right? Condoms are flavoured – have been for certain parts of our sexually active lives – and they’ll keep curving and twisting, and you and I will keep living our lives.
Also Read: Durex Fake Eggplant-Flavoured Condom Titillated Our Wicked Minds
Now think of the flavoured condom for a minute, will you? Just close your eyes and let the Sunny Leone-laden goodness envelop you. Your picture will probably be that – a woman lounging, on the hood of a car, within the folds of a makeshift tent, a very large bed – and voiceovers that remind you of chocolate-flavoured, strawberry-flavoured, apple-dipped goodness.
All great options for a particularly fragrant round of fellatio – but here’s the thing: how many chocolate flavoured body butters and edible nipple gels do you see being advertised?
What’s With the Sexual Hypocrisy On-Screen?
Don’t get me wrong; the idea of a condom is PARAMOUNT to safe sex. Goodness knows we have enough trouble still in the 21st century to even talk about condoms like they aren’t scourges.
But what is a flavoured condom at the end of the day? A tastier means to ensure the man climaxes? That the woman with hang-ups about taste and smell can get better at giving a blowjob?
For the life of me, and rack my brain as I might, I cannot remember a man as sexy as Sunny Leone looking at his female co-passenger suggestively, biting into a bar of chocolate and then leaning back against the hood of a car and pulling her to him, can you? Nor can I remember the last sultry male voiceover I heard, goading the man to enjoy the ‘richness of cocoa/chocolate/orange’ – all, apparently, off the crevices of his female partner’s body.
More often than not, it boils down to the first orgasm. It’s really as simple as that. Think of the traditional sex scene, if you will, as shown to you through film or literature. The entire description of the sexual intercourse, whether visually or in print, plays out with usually one goal in mind – the man getting off, and the woman lending a helping hand, or jaw, or both.
Sex in cinema is very rarely about the woman, and most commonly about the man. So much so, that much of it develops like an absurd, unrealistic crescendo with both partners moaning in tandem (raaight) – till the man orgasms.
The woman is also, obviously (!), supposed to have reached climax at the exact same time, so that they can, in mutual satisfaction, snuggle into bedcovers – only to repeat the scene for cinematic posterity and human naïveté, over and over and over again.
Let’s cut the crap, shall we?
Very rarely in any sort of sexual parallel universe does that happen, and the woman is in as much need of a delicious facilitator appended to her body (if not more) – as a man is. If the baingan-scented condom really drives it home for a man, think of the disappointing lack of coverage of objects of female titillation.
I mean, you and I know about the strawberry-scented lube in theory, now how about advertising/cinema/literature actually putting those into practice?
The Bleak World of ‘Sexvertising’
If you’re advertising blueberry blowjobs for a man, where are the edible raspberry body paints for a woman? If you’ve got no qualms dissecting the many kinds of fruit a woman’s possibly going to like, and then placing them on cartons and cartons of condoms, why not accord men the same choice and pleasure?
It took me thrice the number of Google hits to chance upon the female orgasm-inducing products as it did for the male, and that speaks volumes of the elusiveness with which female orgasms are still viewed.
I don’t know about you, but I’d really like to see Ranveer Singh (because, in the world of bleak Indian sexvertising, Sunny Leone seems to equal Ranveer Singh) sitting next to a female driver, biting suggestively into that bar of chocolate and lounging on a beach – hailing the female edible chocolatey body paint. Show us at least one, won’t you?
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