Sex at work

A few days ago, I had a conversation with a (hot) friend, which went something like this:

Hot Friend: “How’s the new job? Do try not to pork the payroll in your first week, darling”

Exhibit A: “All good so far, thanks! (And no comment re your helpful advice!)”

HF: “Ha, does that mean you already have? Fuck me…you work fast.”

EA: “That really would be impressive! But no, no I haven’t.”

HF: “I’m sure it wouldn’t be the first time…”

EA: “Hmmm…well…hmmm…ok, no. But that was different. Obviously.”

HF: “Haha, I knew it – you’ve basically shagged your way through your CV, haven’t you?”

EA: “Hey hey hey…I’ve had 6 permanent jobs (including this one), and I’ve only shagged a colleague at 3 of them. Fine, 4 if you include shagging someone after I left the company. Which I don’t.”

HF: “Dirtbag.”

I think she meant that as a compliment.

I’m aware that sex in the workplace is something that conventional wisdom counsels against. ‘Don’t dip your pen in the company ink’, and all that. But then conventional wisdom is opposed to all sorts of stuff that I consider enjoyable and fulfilling (‘don’t go out boozing on a school night’, ‘leave yourself plenty of time to get to the airport, and arrive at least two hours before your flight’, ‘don’t drink caffeine after 6pm’, yada yada yada), so over the years I’ve learned largely to ignore its prim, pursed-lipped warnings and just get on with my life.

In fact, like a lot of things, fucking a colleague is fun in part because you’re not ‘meant’ to do it. You’re certainly not meant to do it in the office toilets in the middle of the day, or on the CEO’s desk late at night, or in the client’s car park just before an important sales pitch. I’m pretty sure conventional wisdom would frown on all three of those, and yet each was a heart-thumpingly thrilling experience.

For those of us doing a full-time office job and sleeping for seven hours a night, roughly 40% of our waking hours will be spent with work colleagues. That’s more than we generally spend with family, friends, or loved ones. It’s no wonder that sexual tension swirls and eddies around most offices, occasionally picking up speed and sweeping people off their feet, into the stationery cupboard, and out of their underwear. It’s natural, it’s entirely predictable, and for the most part I tend to think of it as a Good Thing.

Why ‘for the most part’? Because of course I’m writing from a ridiculously privileged position. Conventional wisdom actually misses the mark on this one: it’s not the pen-dippers who tend to suffer when workplace shagging goes wrong. As a man, I’m unlikely to be slut-shamed in the office kitchen if I end up in bed with the MD after a night out. Nor do I have to worry about accusations of sleeping my way to the top when it becomes known that I’m having a fling with one of the management team. My wardrobe choices aren’t immediately sexualised, or viewed and judged through the lens of the effect they might have on unsuspecting male colleagues.

More generally though, I have less to worry about than women in my position. I don’t have to fight for equal pay, or to break through a glass ceiling, or even just to be taken seriously in a corporate environment. I can fuck to my heart’s content, safe in the knowledge that even if things do go wrong, it’s probably not going to be used against me, or jumped on as an excuse to solidify an existing prejudice.

Not all offices harbour (or would tolerate) that kind of sexism, and even in the ones that do, there are plenty of women who don’t give a monkeys what other people say about their sex lives. Good for them, and with any luck this is a problem that will fade away over time, as the workforce becomes more modern and gender issues are gradually dealt with. However, for those of us men who enjoy mixing business with pleasure, it’s worth bearing in mind the potential professional (and personal) vulnerability of the female colleagues we chase. I’ve been guilty of ignoring (or just not considering) that in the past – I intend to take it more seriously in the future.

That said…I will always be a dirtbag…

EDIT: The feedback I’ve had from y’all on this has been really interesting. It’s worth clarifying that I don’t think it’s my role (or any man’s role) to police who/when/where/how women fuck, nor do I think that women are delicate flowers who need to be protected in the workplace. However, I do believe that as guys we have a responsibility to challenge the kind of slut-shaming and sexism that contribute to women who sleep around being viewed in a different way to men: that responsibility extends way beyond the office, but in that kind of environment, where people’s professional reputations can be at stake, it’s especially important.