I am watching the most fascinating TV series at the moment called Masters of Sex. I’m a bit late to the party because it was released in 2013.
I am obsessed.
Season two got me through procedure prep and recovery, much like Colin Firth’s Pride and Prejudice helped me endure the first six weeks of night feeds.
Masters of Sex is set in the 1950s through to the late 1960s and tells the story of Masters and Johnson, who pioneered research into human sexuality.
Most of the characters are deeply flawed, so I spend a lot of time feeling conflicted about liking them.
But it’s also fascinating viewing. And when I find things fascinating, I tend to have even less of a filter than usual.
Anyways, rewinding to NRL Grand Final night. Someone’s 88-year-old mum was talking to me about my pets and asked my dog’s names.
They’re called Charlie and Bilbo. Bilbo Baggins of Middle Cove.
She thought that was very funny, so I added that I have to enunciate his name very clearly because a stranger once thought I said Dildo.
Possibly not the ideal thing to discuss with someone’s 88-year-old mum at the bowlo.
But I hadn’t finished there.
My brain was horrified to hear my mouth say “speaking of dildos …”
And I started blathering to her about the dildo camera in Masters of Sex.
I explained how Dr Masters invented a dildo that could be used both for pleasure and filming its effects on female anatomy.
My brain screamed: “Shut up, shut up, shut up Alana.”
My mouth said: “No, this is really interesting, I’m going to keep talking about it.”
Why oh why did I think that was an appropriate thing to discuss with someone’s mum – or anyone, really – on Grand Final night at the bowlo?
I have absolutely no idea. She left soon afterwards. I hope it wasn’t because of me. I think it was because she was tired.
I’m still mortified weeks later.
PS I also have a bit of a thing for the star of Masters of Sex, Michael Sheen. I blame it on him being besties with former Doctor Who David Tennant and a philanthropist. Michael declared himself a “not-for-profit actor” in 2021, pledging the majority of his earnings from film, television and stage work to fund social projects, community initiatives and charities.
Be still my beating heart.
Be still my blathering mouth.
But it is never still, so undoubtedly it will mortify me again tonight at the fancy dinner I’m attending. Will advise tomorrow.
Song of the day: The Pretenders “Talk of the town”
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