make a pass in glass?
We’ll, er, pass thanks. Why is it that ‘intimate’ uses for tech are always such a turn-off? T3’s resident Doctor Sex looks into it
Perhaps it’s just me getting older, but I increasingly struggle to understand exciting new techy ideas, and the recent app Sex with Google Glass joins the growing list of “innovations” that have me in a state of complete confusion.
Created at a “London hackathon”, I initially presumed SwiGG, as I am going to call it, was a sort of Lawnmower Mantype device, whereby you and your partner, being apart due to you being away on business, or in prison, would each don Google’s info-specs. You would then pretend to have sex, humping the air like one of Justin Bieber’s backing dancers, or Hugh Grant on heat, perhaps mumbling, “Do you take it up the Glass?” while trying to keep a straight face.
The screen on these miracle bifocals would, meanwhile, show your partner similarly pretending to get down to it, with advanced software making it appear that they were actually there in the room. After thinking about it for a while, I decided this would be preposterous. As the screen on Glass is rather at the periphery of your vision, it would be like having sex with someone who you could only see out of the corner of your eye, by squinting.
I quickly realised that this Lawnmower Man idea I’d essentially made up in my head was ridiculous, I must have got the wrong end of the stick completely. But imagine my surprise when I read an article about SwiGG properly and realised it was, in fact, something even more creepy and mad.
This is how it actually works: you and your partner don Glass while in the same room, and say – I’m not making this up – “Okay Glass, it’s time.” You then perform congress in your favoured manner. While filming each other. And seeing your partner’s point of view on Glass’s screen. In real time.
Now, I consider myself a pretty openminded kind of chap, but one thing I am pretty sure I don’t want while making love is to have a small, grainy, looming close-up of my face, chest or John Thomas, coming at me from the periphery of my vision while trying to maintain a steady rhythm and ensure my partner is still awake.
I then read on and discovered that when you are finished, you’re supposed to say, “Okay Glass, pull out.” At this point, I had to throw up and then go and vigorously scrub myself with pummice in the shower – something that usually applies to my partners after sex, by a strange coincidence.
It’s not as if SwiGG is the first instance of tech meeting sex and spawning a monster. From Leisure Suit Larry to 3D porn and those websites where you watch a stranger knock one out while you type encouragement – er, a friend told me about them – this is an area with a long history of shameful wrongness.
Now I can’t say for sure why it is that the tech/sex interface is always quite so repugnant, but I have arrived at a theory, and it is this: hardcore techies, of the type who code apps and go to “hackathons”, never actually have sex. They have no idea what it involves, at least not with a person.
That’s why, in their delight at the cleverness of their conceptualising and coding, SwiGG’s inventors missed the obvious flaw in their app: if you wear Google Glass, no way are you getting laid.