On Yale, sex, porn, and relationships *UPDATED*

It’s no big secret in the Bookworm Room that I like romance novels.  Someone I know calls them pornography.  He’s both right and wrong.

A large percentage of today’s romance novels have pretty explicit sex scenes scattered through the pages.  The language isn’t as vulgar as true pornography, but the sex is certainly graphic enough to fall under the heading of “erotica.”  It’s also dull.  There are only so many ways to describe “insert tab A into slot B.” Moreover, romance writers, because they’re aiming for romance and not hard-core porn employ no end of awkward and embarrassing euphemisms, all of which make the whole experience seem a little bit like peeking under the modesty skirts that some Victorians allegedly used to hide the legs of their Victorian piano.

Given my druthers, I read nothing but Georgette Heyer’s exquisite romantic comedies of manners, which might end with a chaste kiss on the last page.  Sadly, though, Mrs. Heyer died in 1974, and there are no new Heyer books forthcoming.  Even I, a most enthusiastic fan, can read her existing fare only so many times before feeling a bit of ennui creeping over me.  There are other writers out there publishing “traditional” romances (i.e., no sex), but they lack Heyer’s wit and erudition, making their books a poor substitute.  Moreover, many of these traditional books are overtly Christian, and that simply isn’t a genre that appeals to me.

So, as I said, my friend is correct that there’s an erotic element to today’s romantic novel market (which is, I believe, the largest segment of both the paperback and ebook market).  What he misunderstands is that the graphic–ish sex isn’t the “porn” that draws women in.  The real porn aspect of these novels is what I call “relationship porn.”

Relationship porn doesn’t have dialog revolving around body parts and sex acts.  It has dialog revolving around a woman’s real needs.  The following aren’t verbatim quotations from any specific book, but I guarantee you that you can find variations of these themes in any modern romance novel you pick up:

Lainey walked self-consciously down the stairs, aware that Caleb had never seen her in anything other than an over-sized sweatshirt and jeans before.  In the clingy black dress, she felt acutely vulnerable.  As she drew closer, Caleb let out a long, low whistle.  “My God, Lainey!  I could look at you forever!”

Safe for the time being under the sheltering overhang of the cave, Rob carefully checked Karen to make sure she was okay.  Her hair was hanging lankly around her ears, her pale face was covered with mud, and her clothes were drenched and ragged.  She had never looked more beautiful to him.

Brad turned to Victoria and said, “Don’t worry, baby.  I’ll take care of the dishes for you.  You just go to bed.”

Yup — there’s the real porn.  Our romantic hero, who looks good and smells better (unlike many of Hollywood’s most famous and narcissistic stars, both male and female), thinks that, under any circumstances, our heroine is the most gorgeous thing in the world and he helps out around the house.

What’s sad is that relationship porn didn’t used to be a niche market idea.  Before the sexual revolution  hit, popular culture encouraged men to appreciate and cherish their woman.  That is no longer the case, though, which may explain why women are so happy wrapped in the loving arms of a romance novel.

A young Yale grad, Nathan Harden, has just published a new book that reveals both a symptom and a cause of the unloving culture we’ve created for young American women.  The title pretty much tells its own story:  Sex and God at Yale: Porn, Political Correctness, and a Good Education Gone Bad.  I haven’t read Harden’s book, but he spells out the premise in a recent Daily Beast post, descriptively entitled “When Sex Isn’t Sexy: My Bizarre Education at Yale University.”  That premise is a simple, and sad, one; namely, that Yale has become one of American education’s major sex purveyors, and that the sex it sells to students has nothing to do with romance, love, and respect, and everything to do with commerce and impersonal relationships:

When the average person thinks of Yale University, sex probably isn’t the first thing that comes to mind. Nevertheless, in recent years Yale has positioned itself as a leader in a radical new form of sex education, complete with sex toy pageants, porn star lectures, sadomasochism seminars, and fellatio demonstrations. What does any of that have to do with the mission of Yale University? That’s the question I set out to answer in my new book, Sex & God at Yale: Porn, Political Correctness, and a Good Education Gone Bad.

[snip]

Yale’s cozy relationship with corporate interests in the sex industry—including numerous major porn production companies and some of the nation’s largest sex toy companies—has been the backbone of its infamous “Sex Week at Yale” event for the past ten years. Other elite universities, including Harvard, Brown, and Northwestern, have begun holding sex-themed events modeled on the corporate-backed events at Yale. Yale’s leaders say that academic freedom requires them to allow these activities. But I think they need to learn a basic business lesson: When a company comes into a classroom to market and sell its products, that’s called advertising, not education.

Yuck.  Pardon me while I go refresh my mind by spending some time with Lainey and Caleb, or maybe Rob and Karen, or perhaps I’ll ask the imaginary Brad to help me out around the house.

UPDATE:  Somehow it seems apropos to note here that the First Lady has found herself guest editing a website that includes her fitness and lifestyle tips alongside sex advice from prostitutes.  Michelle Obama, of course, has nothing to do with sex advice; it’s just that the commercialization of sex, and its uncoupling from romance (pardon that pun) is everywhere.

UPDATE II:  As Abercrombie & Fitch is discovering, in a market glutted with sex, even sex stops selling.  Maybe they should raffle off their male models with the promise that the guys will come to the lucky winner’s house and do the dishes.