Alright, so you wanted to hear about my little adventure with that "Closer Magazine sex coach" advice I mentioned I’d looked into. It’s one of those things, you know? You see it, you're a bit curious, and sometimes you just gotta see what the fuss is about.
I remember I was just flicking through a copy of Closer one afternoon, probably waiting for a kettle to boil or something. Standard stuff – celebs, a bit of fashion, and then bam, there’s this big spread. Some "sex coach" doling out tips. The headlines are always catchy, aren't they? "Unlock Hidden Desires!" or "Reignite the Spark!" – that sort of thing. Sounded like a magic fix, all neat and tidy in a glossy magazine.
So, I read through it. Some of it was common sense, dressed up fancy. Other bits were… well, let's just say they sounded like they were written for a movie script, not for regular folks living regular lives. But one particular piece of advice stuck out. It was all about creating this super specific "romantic atmosphere." I mean, really specific. Down to the type of lighting, the exact sequence of events, even what kind of snacks should be involved. It was like a military operation for romance.
I thought to myself, "Okay, why not? Let's give this a go. What's the worst that could happen?" So, I actually went out and bought a few bits and pieces they recommended. Some scented candles – the "right" scent, apparently – and a couple of other things. Felt a bit daft, to be honest, like I was following a treasure map where X marked the spot for awkwardness.
Then came the evening I decided to put the "plan" into action. I started setting things up, trying to follow the magazine's instructions to the letter. Let me tell you, it felt incredibly staged. Instead of feeling relaxed and, you know, "in the mood," I mostly felt like a stage manager before a very strange play. I kept checking the magazine clipping, "Am I doing this right? Is this candle in the optimal position for seduction?"
And the result? Well, it wasn't exactly the earth-shattering experience the magazine promised. Far from it. One of the "sensual" scented candles I bought ended up smelling more like a cheap air freshener after about ten minutes. Another time, trying a different "tip" about spontaneous romantic gestures, I nearly gave my partner a heart attack because they weren't expecting me to jump out from behind the sofa. It was more comical than passionate. The whole thing felt forced, like we were acting out a scene rather than just being ourselves.
It reminds me a bit of my friend, Sarah. She once decided to follow one of those super intense "detox" plans from a health magazine. You know the type – green juices all day, ingredients you can only find in specialist shops, promises of a "new you" in seven days. She spent a fortune, felt miserable and hungry the whole time, and by day three, she said she'd have sold her grandmother for a slice of toast. The magazine made it sound so easy, so transformative. The reality was just… a grind.
And that’s the thing with a lot of this magazine advice, whether it’s about detoxing your body or "spicing up" your private life with a "sex coach's" plan. It’s designed to sell magazines, to offer a quick fix. But real life, real connections, they don’t usually work off a script from page 42. They're messier, more spontaneous, and honestly, a lot more about just understanding each other than following a set of instructions.
So, what did I learn from my "practice" with the Closer Magazine sex coach advice? Mostly that it's entertainment. A bit of a laugh, maybe something to chat about with your mates. But if you’re looking for real improvement in your relationships, you're probably better off just talking, being honest, and figuring out what genuinely works for you and your partner. Not what some columnist, who’s never met you, thinks will work for the masses. It’s usually the simple, genuine stuff that makes the biggest difference, not the elaborate, candle-lit productions.
Most of that advice, when you try to put it into practice, it just feels… off. Like wearing clothes that don't quite fit. And if it doesn't feel natural, then what's the point, really? So yeah, that was my experiment. A bit of money spent on fancy candles, a few awkward moments, and a good reminder that real life rarely fits neatly into a magazine feature.
