How am I supposed to enjoy a piece of toffee when it is still wrapped in rubber? That was the first thing that kicked in every time the conversation of condoms came up. In the many open tabs in my mind, these things are like the cling film of the bedroom designed to steer the flavor clear off you. Like many men, perhaps women too, I was so sold into the idea that anything latex was a sworn enemy of pleasure. If it must be done, should it not be done generously and adequately? Skin- on- skin, with a side of liberation and a kick of freedom? Why anyone, of sound mind, would be willing to trade such a feeling off for something that looks like expanding a balloon over a flat surface never quite sat well with me. So yes, I perfectly understood why men would always opt to…