Everything I Know About Love I Learned From Romance Novels (13 page)

And when ideal matches meet, many Good Things can happen.

Just as the average romance heroine doesn’t sit around filing her nails and looking pretty, waiting for her hero to ride in and sweep her away to connubial bliss, so it is with sex. Sitting there does nothing. If you just lie there and wait for it, it won’t be very satisfying.

Sex in a romance novel is a tricky subject, but let me make one thing quite clear: sex depictions in romance novels have changed drastically, and the rapetastic romances are things of the past, thank heaven and all available orgasms. In romances published today, not only is the sexuality a variable part of the plot—some books feature mere kisses, and some feature acts of kinky you might never have heard of in your life that may possibly defy laws of gravity and physics—but both parties participate in making sure the sexuality is fantastic for all involved.

I’ll be frank (ha!) and get the negative out of the way first: part of the problem with romance novel sex is that it is so impossibly perfect, so incredibly over-the-top wonderful, that real sex can seem messy and awkward in comparison sometimes. This is likely because real sex is sometimes awkward and messy.

This is one thing I don’t understand about pornography, and yes, I’ve seen some (and no, it wasn’t a romance novel). Two people having sex? Weird looking. How is this attractive or alluring? Let’s not kid ourselves. Sexual intercourse is not the sensuously choreographed ballet as old as time. Sometimes it is the elbows-and-ouch-you’re-on-my-hair as old as time.

Yet sexuality is an enduring part of the romance genre, and one of the reasons it takes so much crap from people who don’t read it or understand it. Courtship is based in part on sexual attraction, and the exploration of that sexual attraction can add to the already increasing tension between the protagonists.

In other words,
of course
there is sex in romance. Courtship and the relationships that follow are sexual in nature!

Sex is important, too, because it is a very common expression of intimacy. One of the first determinations in many states when a couple petitions for a divorce is whether they’ve had sexual relations within a certain amount of time, say six months or a year, because that sex indicates intimacy that undermines the petition for a divorce. A marriage without any sex whatsoever would not necessarily be considered a healthy one by many a relationship counselor—but not because the physical act of sexual congress is itself a requirement. Denise A. Donnelly, a sociology professor at Georgia State University who studies sexless marriages, said in a recent
New York Times
interview that “there is a feedback relationship in most couples between happiness and having sex. Happy couples have more sex, and the more sex a couple has, the happier they report being.”

But Donnelly points out that sexual relations are not the point. The requirement is intimacy: “Keep in mind that sex is only one form of intimacy, and that some couples are fairly happy (and intimate) even without sex.” In other words, intimacy is a requirement for healthy relationships. Yet there are few options for discussing intimacy, sex, and our own sexuality openly and honestly. Sex and intimacy are very taboo topics for many, and sexual curiosity, though natural, is more often answered with Internet pornography and rumors and misinformation than with an honest conversation.

Romance novels, on the other hand, offer safe spaces of sexual exploration and, to be honest, research on what it means to be intimate. Sexuality in romances is often portrayed within the context of a relationship and between monogamous and committed individuals. Sexual depictions in romances are also mostly positive and affirming, and in most cases, there are orgasms aplenty to go around (and around and around).

So what happens when a few billion dollars are spent on romance, and many, many, many women (and some men) read about courtship and sex? Many, many good things. Sexuality and intimacy are an integral part of romance, and to quote, well, myself, reading about women and men experiencing sexual honesty along with their sexual agency is a very powerful (and subversive) thing.

Sex in a romance can be fun, silly, emotional, intense, erotic, or all of the above. The highlight of sexual intercourse with romance heroes is not just dramatic loss of virginity anymore. With the increasing popularity of erotic romance, you can experience between the book covers what you might wonder about but not quite be ready to try underneath your own covers. There’s role-playing, dominance and submission games, bondage, fantasies, sex in strange and adventurous places—and with strange and adventurous people.

Reading about passionate sex and sex as a method to express emotional passion has two benefits. First, you get to think about, or mentally try out, acts that you’re curious about without actually doing them—and potentially discovering that, no, you don’t like ball gags or being called “mistress” but the idea of being tied up sure cranks your engine.

Second, you are able to read and learn in privacy.

Let’s be honest: there are not many venues through which women can learn about sex and sexuality with judgment-free and honest communication. Women’s sexuality is tied up in so many frustrating power struggles throughout history that there’s shame, embarrassment, and fear for many when asking honestly what sex can and should be like.

Romance heroines are usually on journeys of self-discovery, including and not excluding sexual self-discovery. Moreover, they often have to overcome feelings of ambivalence or fear when attempting to identify and describe their own sexual desires. Author Toni Blake says, “My heroines are not nearly so dangerous as my heroes, but many of them are in a struggle to fully embrace and explore their sensuality/sexuality. This has always been a big topic in my work because I feel that many women of my generation were taught to be ‘good girls’ and that the message becomes so deeply entrenched that it can be a lifelong label we wear both in and out of the bedroom, forcing us to stifle valid, vital parts of who we are.

“And while having sex with a stranger in the woods up against a tree (as Jenny does in the first chapter of
One Reckless Summer)
may not be advisable in real life, I feel that in fiction sometimes you need to be a little extreme to get the point across, to jar the reader a little and make her consider the possibilities, make her ask herself questions: Could I ever do this? Could I ever want to do this? Following a fictional character’s journey allows women a safe way to begin thinking about situations and actions that might have, up to now, felt forbidden to them. And it allows them to see a likable, relatable woman accepting and enjoying her sexual desires, her sexual self.”

So can that fictional journey affect the reader and the reader’s real life? You bet your sweet bippy it can. Blake told me, “I get a significant amount of e-mail from women thanking me for helping them to embrace their sexuality, and hence, ultimately improving their marriages.

“One woman rode six hours on a train to meet me at a book signing, to tell me that I’d revolutionized her relationship with sex, that I’d helped her to understand that it was A-okay to think about it, and to not censor the more explicit thoughts in her mind. She realized that embracing her sexual self didn’t change her life or who she was at the core, and that ‘the next morning I got up, ate breakfast, and realized the world wasn’t going to end just because I was thinking dirty thoughts.’”

Reader Liz echoes Blake’s comments about sexual repression, and says that “reading romance novels helped me to realize that sex is not a bad thing. My mom is a bit of a prude, and as far back as I can remember she drilled into me how having sex before you’re married is bad. There were times that she would point out how premarital sex ‘ruined’ the lives of my aunts (she lived for dramatics—sex did not ruin my aunts’ lives). Even when I was in high school, she told me that the only way to be a ‘good girl’ was to be like St. Mary and to wait until after marriage to have sex. There were times when I had the feeling that she wanted me to be knocked up by the Holy Spirit. She has eased up a bit since I graduated high school, but there are still times when I catch her looking at me as if she is trying to gauge whether or not I am still a virgin.”

Romances have set an example not of abstinence-by-threat but of abstinence-by-choice for Liz, and have encouraged her to think critically about sex: “Most of my friends were having sex way before they were ready, and while I was just as curious as they were, I feel like the books gave me a peek at what was really going on behind closed doors, so I didn’t need to hook up with random guys. In a way, romance novels taught me more about smart sexual decisions than my mother ever could. Because she didn’t want me experimenting, she tried very hard to stop me from reading romance novels, which she thought would make me want to have sex before I was married. If only she knew.”