Everything I Know About Love I Learned From Romance Novels (15 page)

“I didn’t end up losing my virginity until I was nearly twenty-two and by that time romances were coming into the golden age of less rapeyness. Yay! At that point, I had discovered my sexual agency. The things I did, I did because I wanted to do them for me. They were my experience, not something I did to impress or cling to some schmuck.

“I had a sense of what I wanted from a man. I’ll be honest—I wish I’d known that when I first encountered the opportunity, the means, and the possibility of having actual sex. I’d have saved myself a lot of misery—but then, I wasn’t reading as much romance then.”

Granger was also wise in the Romance as Sexual Research department. She says that reading romances “really contributed to sexy fun times…I had expectations there that were probably a tad unrealistic, but I knew that they were unrealistic so it wasn’t an issue. It meant that I knew what I wanted and that I was comfortable asking what he wanted and saying what I wanted, and I don’t think I would have been that relaxed in the situation if I hadn’t read so many romance novels.”

Research-devoted folks reading romance get a double-whammy of education. A reader named Pharaby explains that she “was fascinated by the sex, of course, and since I was a nerdy little bibliophile, I had research skills at my command to look up ‘climax’ and ‘bordello’ and ‘erection’—using real books and paper card catalogs, no less.

“Also, ‘tumescence.’ Tumescence was very popular in the ’80s. (I didn’t learn the term ‘whiskey dick’ until I was in college, and that was, alas, not from a romance.)”

Another fringe benefit to reading sexually charged books with strong romances and strong heroines? They make you want to kick ass, take names, and have make-up sex afterward. Sharon S. says that “reading a really romantic and sexy book will put me in the mood for some lovin’. I just started reading paranormal romance and urban fantasy romance over a year ago and I could kick myself for not starting earlier.”

Reader Milena agrees. While she reads mostly science fiction and fantasy and very Old Skool romances with the perspective that, as she puts it, “this is fun but nobody would want that in real life,” she says that modern contemporary romances have proven quite useful: “Sex in modern romances is in fact much more interesting…and yes, more informative.”

Reader James Lynch specifically mentioned attention to sexuality, or, as he put it, “kinkiness,” in an online discussion of heroic traits. Sexuality, from Lynch’s perspective, can be heroic: “There’s one trait that hasn’t been mentioned, and may not be a strict requirement, but is nevertheless fun: kinkiness. This lack may be due to so many heroines being naive innocents (while the men are sexually experienced—a literary standard going back to
Tom Jones
), but it’s fun when the characters realize that there’s more to sex than a bed with him on top.

“It’s also fun when the heroine realizes that she’s sexy. So many male characters ooze confidence and certainty while the female characters have no idea how beautiful/sexy they are but are instead rather shy and modest. There’s a nice scene in
Love in the Afternoon
by Lisa Kleypas where the normally modest-dressing heroine gets a sexy bit of lingerie for her wedding night and shows herself off to her husband—leaving him stunned.” One problem with discussing romance and the sexual and physical elements in each novel—and the reader response to those elements—is that it possibly adds fuel to the nasty fire of accusation that romances are nothing but pornography for women. This is categorically not true. Romances are not porn. But they do contain sex. So did
NYPD Blue, Deuce Bigalow: Male Gigolo,
and the BBC’s
Coupling
—and those are not pornography either. The presence of sex does not equal the definition of porn.

But then again, is frank discussion, depiction, or even description of sex automatically pornographic, or automatically a bad thing? I say no on both counts. Open and honest sex is a good thing, especially as depicted in erotic romance. Sonya agrees: “I know that some people hate the porn/romance novel comparison, but I’ve used both to introduce sex-related subjects with my boyfriend. ‘Is this something you’d like?’ ‘We could totally do that position.’ ‘Those stockings would look really sexy on you.’ ‘I love it when you do that.’ Romance and erotica aren’t as good as porn for introducing positions or outfits, but they’re much better than porn for role-play or toy suggestions and introducing kinkier subjects.”

Professor Sarah Frantz says that, “yes, romances totally taught me about sex. They taught me about owning my own orgasm. They taught me about experimenting. They taught me about BDSM sex, about anal sex, about public sex, about making sure both partners enjoy it. They taught me about having
fun
during sex. About talking about sex and during sex. I may or may not have practiced some of what I learned, but it’s all important knowledge.”

Reader Caitlin saw her own sexuality in romance, and says it helped her understand her true self: “I was frequently, even from the age of about eight, just as attracted to the women in the romance as the men. And it and a few other things helped me to acknowledge my sexuality and be OK with it. Romance helped me learn that the emotional journey in
any
relationship is just as important, if not more so, than the sexual destination, and I think they helped with my self-respect in relationships later. Also, the well-written filthy ones
really
turn me on, which is good.”

Seeing your own sexuality, and your own sexual self, in a novel can be tremendously liberating, and intimate. Merrian says that “the sexuality of modern romance novels has been a big help to me in reclaiming my own sexuality, which has been damaged by disability. Romance novels normalize desire and physical pleasure as a central part of love relationships. They have helped me strengthen my sense of entitlement to this. I feel more sexually confident because reading romance novels has helped me set boundaries, defining what is in, as well as what is out. They have also at times been a practical guide.”

One benefit to the explicitness of romance is that, unlike movies or other visual media, the reader can
imagine
the people getting funky in funky positions—and can perhaps picture herself doing the funky without actually doing so. It’s, as has been stated earlier, a safe space to explore without taking a risk or, say, entering a club devoted to BDSM with no knowledge of that practice or how it works. It’s a lot less intimidating to read and experience in a book before one views and experiences in person that which is sexually challenging and alluring.

But then, even discussing sexual desires openly can be challenging, and certainly isn’t a skill or talent that is cultivated easily. There are few easy manuals or patterns to follow for honest relationships or even for sexual encounters.

Reader and reviewer RedHeadedGirl says that the how-to aspects of romance novels are not to be undervalued. She learned “first and foremost (I was in my early teens), the nuances of sex. I knew the mechanics, of course—tab A goes into slot B—and I suppose boobs work in there…somehow? But with romance, the varieties of the act, foreplay, and female orgasm (took me a while to figure that out—things like ‘shuddering climax’ and ‘shattering bliss’ aren’t that helpful if you don’t know what it refers to) became clear and the heavens opened, and, well, here we are.

“TMI alert: I will also admit that romance helped convince me to give sex a second shot. (Two virgins + no idea what we’re doing + unlubed condom = Not Good Times.) But I’d read about all this bliss and pleasure and stuff, so… surely it had to be better, right? Right? And lo, it was.”

Amber G. agrees: “One of the most important things romance taught me was that I had no idea how sex/intimacy worked, aside from very standard ‘insert pole A into slot B’ sex-ed stuff. The kind of things that go on in romance novels, I had no idea how they worked, but it sure seemed to make the protagonists happy. It prompted me to do a great deal of research and look up how-to guides so I wasn’t a bad kisser or a stunned starfish my first time. It’s amazing how well a little research goes over with a partner, and what it does for your self-esteem when you have an idea what you’re doing.

“Not that my first time wasn’t a mess. As RedHeadedGirl said, Bad Times is two virgins. Research only goes so far before you have to learn hands-on. But, prompted by what I learned from romance, not only did we recover from that mess, we’re getting married in June after over five years together. Not too shabby.” Let’s face it: there are embarrassing questions, and Embarrassing Questions. Erotic content helps people avoid asking either of those two—and can help you learn new things every day, as Ell says: “I’ve started reading erotica for the first time, and I
finally
know what a butt plug is for.”

Lyra agrees: “I thought of something I did learn from romance novels, especially erotic romance. I learned what my kinks were! Before, I had no idea why some men would turn me on and other men, who seemed equally decent and suitable, did not. But after reading a lot of romance novels, some of which made me think, ‘Meh, this doesn’t do it for me’ and some of which made me think, ‘Yowza! This does!’ I have pretty much sorted out the kind of man I need. (And it has nothing to do with looks!)”

The vicarious experience of reading about sex in the confines of romance and courtship has helped many a reader. Author Tamara Hogan probably says it best when she writes, “Romance novels have helped me in real-life relationships in a number of ways, but foremost in my mind is with sexual agency and negotiation. I’ve been reading romances since I was maybe eleven or twelve years old, and long before I got into a situation where a boy wanted to kiss me—or I wanted to kiss a boy, and maybe wanted to do more—I’d read countless stories modeling ways to say yes and ways to say no. Dress rehearsal, as it were.”

Here’s the bottom line (ha!): romance novels can teach how to have good, satisfying, adventurous, and entertaining sex. If you think you’re the only one on the planet who isn’t sure how some aspects of sexuality work, let me reassure you, you are so not alone. Romance occupies a strange sexual spectrum, in that some heroines are utterly baffled by sex, and some are so adventurous you’re surprised the laws of gravity apply to them. There is no limit to what you can learn sexually from a romance, whether it’s how to flirt, or how to…well, you get the idea.

So what do you do if your sex life isn’t blowing your skirt up, pun intended? What if sex has become like brushing your teeth, a routine that’s part of a schedule, a habit, or a chore? Or what if the idea of sex is so terrifying and intimidating you can’t even wrap your head around it, much less wrap around someone else’s head?

Those are big issues. Let’s face it: sex is a big issue. So who better than romance heroines to help?

The first piece of advice any romance heroine will give you: be explicit. No, I don’t mean start talking dirty out of the blue and telling your man to put his Aer Lingus in your yoni while you’re having brunch with his grandparents. I mean, specifically, say what you want.

If you don’t know what you want? Well, time to read a few romance novels.

Even though sex is often strewn unabashedly with hot and heavy hyperbole in romances, underneath all that heaving and thrusting is a very simple pair of facts:

1. In a romance, the heroine’s sexual satisfaction is required.
   
2. Heroines and heroes are equal participants in their own satisfaction, usually by satisfying one another.
   

How does good romance sex happen? Same way good real-world sex happens: communication and experimentation.

When I say “be explicit” about what you want, I don’t mean to start talking like you just took BonerPorn 101 and want to use every possible word for the penis in one sentence.
¹
Just because erotic romances like to do this does not mean you should! I mean that you should and that you can say out loud what it is you wish your partner to do to you physically. Sometimes—often times—this is a very spicy turn-on for both parties. You hear yourself saying what you’d like to happen to your body, and then, it happens.

Some romance heroines can teach us plenty about owning one’s sexuality—over and over again. Molly Jennings, the heroine of Victoria Dahl’s contemporary romance
Talk Me Down
, is an erotic romance author who returned to her hometown with a major case of writer’s block, only to find that reconnecting with her high-school crush, Ben, was plenty of inspiration to crank her engine, creatively and literally. Molly is definitely someone who takes an active interest in all matters sexual, so when it came time to write about sex in romances, I asked Dahl to ask Molly if she had any advice for the readers of this book. Ha! As if she wouldn’t.