GOOD Morning Britain viewers choked on their cuppas earlier this week when Gary Numan’s wife Gemma O’Neill admitted she’d once given the musician a “pity s**g”.
As the couple chatted about their 23-year marriage and Gary’s career, the conversation turned to his financial woes and how Gemma, 52, once a member of Numan’s fanclub, had to support the family.
Gary, 62, chimed in, “I don’t want pity!”, to which Gemma replied: “Well you got a pity s**g.”
She then took back her jokey comment but social media had already gone into meltdown – and it wasn’t even 9am.
After Gemma’s confession, two Fabulous writers give their views on pity sex.
No…says Katie Glass
I SPAT out my cornflakes laughing when I heard Gemma tell GMB she’d given him a “pity s**g”.
The pity s**g is such a wonderfully British concept — a kind of copulation backhanded compliment.
The sexiest form of altruism.
Being a pity s**gger makes you a true Queen of Hearts, a kind of Florence Nightingale of orgasms. Still, as much as I think the act is lovely in theory, I’ve never actually given one.
Maybe I’m just too selfish in bed? But I don’t like the idea of sleeping with someone who might break down and cry afterwards.
Apparently, I’m an exception among my friends. “I’ve had loads of pity s**gs — they are grim,” one friend tells me.
“The secret is you must never let them know,” another friend suggests.
My married friends tell me they dole them out all the time to their husbands.
“I’ve been giving my other half pity s**gs for the last 20 years,” one complains.
“The only thing worse than having a pity s**g is marrying them,” another adds.
Call me old-fashioned but I’ve only ever had sex because I fancied someone and I wanted it
I’m beginning to wonder if the fact I don’t offer up these favours is why I can never hold down a relationship.
Still, I cannot think of a bigger turn-off than having sex with someone because I feel sorry for them (even if that someone did write classic Seventies hit Cars).
Maybe the real reason I don’t give pity s**gs is that I’m not good enough in bed. I can think of better ways to cheer someone up — like buying them a pint or baking them a cake. But I’ve never s**gged someone to cheer them up, let alone because I pity them.
Call me old-fashioned but I’ve only ever had sex because I fancied someone and I wanted it.
The only pity sex I think I’ve even come close to is a self-pity s**g when I’ve been feeling depressed and I’ve had sex with someone because I’m feeling sorry for myself.
Yes…says Almara Abgarian
“I AM so bored” is what goes through my mind as I have sex with a man (let’s call him John) I’ve been dating for a while.
It was a few years ago, and I knew it was going to be bad — but he was such a nice guy and I felt sorry for him, so we did it anyway.
This is the very definition of a pity s**g. In fact, I’d go so far as to say that the two weeks we dated were a pity relationship on my part. John wasn’t the worst pity s**g of all though — that title goes to someone we’ll call Patrick.
It started off well. He was a former colleague and I’d always thought he was attractive.
So when we ran into each other in a bar a few years ago, I went for it. Five minutes in and he’s on top of me and starts crying.
It turns out Patrick had broken up with his girlfriend that same week and was heartbroken.
So I cuddled him for another half an hour and let him tell me all about his broken romance. So perhaps it was less of a pity s**g and more of a pity cuddle? Unlike Gary Numan’s wife Gemma, however, I’ve never given a long-term partner a pity s**g.
My exes and I were very vocal about what we wanted in bed and I have a high sex drive — but I have definitely given pity pleasure in other sexual ways which don’t require me to be as turned on.
As a whole, it seems that women are more inclined to give out these bedroom favours.
I asked my female friends if they had ever done it and got a resounding “yes” — while most of my male friends said “any s**g is a good s**g”.
As for whether I’ve ever been a pity s**g myself, the answer is yes, kind of.
It was with a man in New York, who wanted to sleep with me, and did.
But he was too tired for round two, unless I got on top.
I did, in the end — but he wasn’t very enthusiastic so there was no satisfaction in it for me.
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