Everything I Know about Love I Learned from Romance Novels

by Sarah Wendell

  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.

  But in a romance novel, sex is often more than “just sex.” Sex in a romance novel is a climax of many parts. It’s the physical climax of the protagonists, plus sometimes it’s the emotional climax of their attraction to each other, and the pinnacle or start of many more problems for them both. Sex never solves anything in a romance novel—if anything, it makes things more complicated.

  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.”

  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.

  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.

  You can experience between the book covers what you might… not quite be ready to try underneath your own covers.

  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.”

  …She could have stopped this—yet still she didn’t. She simply stood there soaking up the heat of his body on an already hot summer night…She heard herself whimper as forbidden pleasure arced through her. Oh, God, it felt good. To be touched. Wanted. Desired. It was the first time she’d felt…truly womanly, sexual, in years.

  —ONE RECKLESS SUMMER BY TONI BLAKE, 2009

  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.”

  “Reading romance novels helped me to realize that sex is not a bad thing… In a way, romance novels taught me more about smart sexual decisions than my mother ever could.”—LIZ, A READER

  Author Teresa Medeiros has also received responses from readers about the sensual content of her books: “I’ve had friends at church tell me that their husbands would like to thank me because they’re so much more receptive to ‘romance’ after they read my books!”

  Author Christina Dodd has similar reactions from readers: “Readers thank me for enhancing their sex lives. Single women (most of my readers who admit to being my readers are female) thank me for a good solitary experience. Women in long-time relationships tell me reading about good sex rejuvenates their sex drive, that they read passages to their husbands and Good Things happen, that their husbands buy them e-readers and gift cards so they can continue to read because the guys recognize that, even without reading the books themselves, they’re getting a huge benefit.

  “When a reader comments that her husband is jealous or threatened by her reading, I think a couple of things: we’ve got a guy who’s pathetically unsure of his masculinity, and we’ve got a relationship that is not going to succeed. And that’s sad.”

  Dodd also says that romances have created a warming trend for her own relationship: her husband has read many of her books, and “when he reads my books, it’s also great for our sex life. All men should read romances. ’Nuf said.”

  Author Robyn Carr was worried about the sexuality of her novels until she asked a friend to read a manuscript for her: “One of the most important things romance novels do is create a feeling of healthy desire. As long as it’s not pathological (as in obsessive and unhealthy), desire is good for men and women. A long time back, when I thought the romances I was writing were getting lots sexier, I asked a good friend with decades of experience in books to have a look. She was eighty at the time and I wanted to write a sexier novel, but I didn’t want to cross the line and lose earlier readers and I asked her to give me an opinion before the manuscript was turned in. She called with many comments about the book, then finally said, ‘And Robyn, about that shower scene…’ I thought, oh damn, I’ve done it; I’ve gone too far. But she said, ‘That brought back wonderful memories.’

  “She reminded me that even when our own private lives with partners aren’t benefiting from our reading, sometimes those sweet memories of the romance once enjoyed can be a bonus. I know that my friend had a long, loving, and happy marriage before she lost her husband.”

  Steph discovered romances because her mother let her read them as an introduction to sexuality: “I started to read romance when I was around eleven or twelve. My mom gave me a couple of her books and said I might find them interesting. Boy, did I ever! When I was done she asked if I had any questions, which I of course did, and she answered every one of them. Reading romance books made it easy to talk about sex with her, what could actually happen, how a man really should treat me, and gave us something to actually talk about in my teen years instead of fighting.

  “[The] sweet memories of the romance once enjoyed can be a bonus.”

  —ROBYN CARR

  “Even though they are not real people and the stories are fantasy, romance novels have been great companions through the years and something I am hoping to share with my daughters.”

  “Through the years they have kept me company and gave me a place to hide in some very dark and lonely times in my life. After I married they also made the nights during the many months…that my husband had been deployed shorter, less scary, and helped me relax and not worry.” —STEPH, A READER

  Joanna Shearer’s upbringing was the opposite of reader Liz’s, but romance novels had the same effect: “Romance novels made me feel safe in my fantasies about sex before I was actually ready to ‘do it.’ My mother was a nurse, and so she and my father have a very healthy sex life (something she consistently tries to tell me about to this day no matter how much I run around screaming, ‘lalalalalalalalalala,’ with my ears plugged), so I always knew the dangers of sex (diseases, unplanned pregnancy, perceptions of sluttiness, etc.) and that sex with the right person is wonderful; however, apart from their teachings and example, romance novels helped me realize that, as long as I could explore sex in books, I did not have to have sex in real life no matter how much my friends talked about it or made me feel less ‘mature’ for not experiencing it, because I was experiencing it, just not in a way that made me uncomfortable.

  “Reading romance books made it easy to talk about sex with [my mom], what could actually happen, how a man really should treat me, and gave us something to actually talk about in my teen years instead of fighting.”—STEPH, A READER

  “I know my mother worried that I would have unrealistic expectations about men, relationships, and sex because she introduced me to romance novels (in her mind) too early. Let’s face it, not all men are hung the way romance heroes are or can do the sexually dynamic things they do in romance novels, any more than it is possible for a real woman to orgasm fourteen times in one carriage ride as they are wont to do in the pages of the books we love.

  “But my mother needn’t have worried. In reality, the heroes and heroines in romance novels taught me that I could own my sexuality on my terms, that I could respect myself enough to wait to find the right person to do all the romantic and naughty things I’d ever read about, and finally, they gave me the hope to know that, no matter how many failed relationships came before, when I found the right guy it would by no means be easy, but it would be magical. I am far from being a virgin, but the lessons about waiting for the right time and finding the right one still resonate with me. And now, as I am getting married for the first time at thirty-three years of age to the love of my life, I can tell you that it was well worth the wait on both counts!”

  So romance, a genre that is often mocked and maligned as being riddled with sexuality, can be seen as a means to abstinence and waiting for the right person to experience sex? Yup! Anda has a similar story: “At the time where I was reading romance novels, the heroine was always a virgin and the guy taking her virginity was always her one, true, and forever love.

  “So when my first boyfriend started pressuring me for sex, I said no because I wasn’t sure if he was Mr. Right (he wasn’t). He lost interest, dumped me, and I ended up keeping my virginity… until I met someone to whom it really was worth losing. So yes, I did learn from romance novels to wait and hold out until I was with someone I was really sure was one of the good guys.”

  “[Romance novels] gave me the hope to know that, no matter how many failed relationships came before, when I found the right guy it would by no means be easy, but it would be magical.”—JOANNA SHEARER, A READER

  A reader who asked that she remain anonymous, so let’s call her Janet Smith, says that romances helped her understand that it was absolutely acceptable for women, as Blake pointed out, to have sexual desires: “Romance novels did have an influence on my relationships, and it was mostly a positive influence. My mom was open in talking about sex with me, so I knew all about it. And I’d decided that I was going to hold on to my virginity until I was married. And mom had made it c
lear that it was a boyfriend’s role in a relationship to push for sex and my role to say no. So you can imagine my surprise when I was feeling attraction. I hadn’t been prepared for the idea that I would want sex. I muddled through that mess on my own and decided that even though I was some kind of weird sexaholic (I thought) girl, that it was OK to do it with my boyfriend, because we were going to get married.

  “I was in college by then, but didn’t have girlfriends who were having sex and sharing details. Then I discovered romance novels. And you know what? The women in the novels? They liked sex! They wanted it! I wasn’t a sexaholic; I was probably pretty darn normal. Go figure!”

  Catinbody echoes Janet’s comments about discovering her own sexuality and hornypants: “Practical things aside, I think discovering your own sexuality is a healthy part of development that helps tremendously once you’re in a sexual relationship. For me, reading romance was a part of that development. I remember having it very clear in my mind at fifteen that while I didn’t want a man to love me for my body, I wanted to experience a man loving my body. This seemed to be a fairly subversive idea both for someone well-ensconced in her church youth group and who was growing up in an area with strong feminist influences. But it’s nothing more than what we all want—to be desired and to be loved. Romance got me honest about this and down off some of the pillars of ideology (both religious and feminist) I’d been standing on.”

  “Mom had made it clear that it was a boyfriend’s role in a relationship to push for sex and my role to say no. So you can imagine my surprise when I was feeling attraction. I hadn’t been prepared for the idea that I would want sex…Then I discovered romance novels. And you know what? The women in the novels? They liked sex! They wanted it! I wasn’t a sexaholic; I was probably pretty darn normal. Go figure!”—ANONYMOUS, A READER