Having sex is fun.
Having sex in front of your co-workers – with a co-worker – is the stuff of anxiety dreams to the power of 10.
I once had an anxiety dream about having to do a sex scene the night before I had to do a sex scene.
It was the most bizarre experience to wake up in horror then to feel the massive wash of relief that it was just a dream only to be hit with the realization that it was about to be real.
That’s some meta shit right there.
Whatever adulation/irritation you might have with certain actors/actresses – know that doing sex scenes is them having to pay the piper in full, with interest.
If there is anything creepier than simulating sex with someone you’ve a) just met or b) been friends with for a long time and whose wife and kids you’ve holidayed with – it is the way in which it is treated on a set.
Saying I love you – screaming I hate you – crying – killing – dying and mourning are all things I’ve had to simulate over the course of my career.
But nothing beats the intimacy of physical intimacy when it comes to impersonation.
This is largely to do with the fact that your body doesn’t know that what’s happening isn’t real.
The body reacts as bodies in those moments of intimacy do – they sweat – they redden – they harden.
The hardening part was once skillfully addressed by an actor I was about to have crazy sex with with a sanguine: ‘Forgive me if I do – forgive me if I don’t’.
It gives a whole new spin on performance anxiety.