by Marty Klein
At work, at the supermarket, in the airport, the world is full of beautiful bodies, male and female. Porn or no porn, every man and woman has to figure out how to feel OK with themselves when they aren’t as good-looking as others.
And how to feel OK when they don’t have as much money as others, don’t have jobs as prestigious as others, or don’t have kids as smart as others. This is the fundamental existential task of all people who want to enjoy life, and porn didn’t invent it.
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Memo to any guy who resentfully tells a woman, “Why can’t you look like the women in porn,” or, “Why can’t you do what the women in porn do?”: Dude, the “women in porn” are acting. They’re following scripts designed to get you hot. Very few people do those things in real life, and very few people look like that in real life. They’re like the characters in Lord of the Rings.
If you want your partner to be more enthusiastic or adventurous about sex, criticizing her and comparing her to fictional characters—like Wonder Woman or The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo—is guaranteed to fail miserably.
Interlude F
GUYS: MORE CURIOSITY AND MORE EMPATHY NEEDED
I don’t hear many gay or lesbian couples quarrel about pornography. But if you’re a man in a sexual relationship with a woman, and she complains about your porn-watching, you need to be curious. If she seems unreasonable to you, you need to be even more curious: What could possibly bother her about something that seems so harmless to you? Regardless of what you do about it, you have a responsibility to know the answer to that question really, really well.
As a sex therapist, and when taking questions on the radio and at my lectures, I hear a lot of women concerned about their guy’s porn-watching:
“He has a secret life.”
“I feel left out.”
“It’s something I just don’t understand.”
“I feel inadequate compared to porn.”
“I’m afraid he watches really creepy stuff.”
“I trust him less.”
“I’m afraid he’s hooked.”
“He’s so defensive about it.”
While some women do catastrophize over this domestic situation, everyone is entitled to their feelings. And I’m afraid that in many cases I’m not impressed with men’s responses to concerns like these.
Gentlemen, you’re not going to talk her out of her distress. You’re not going to ridicule her out of it, bully her out of it, logic her out of it, or even sweet-talk her out of it. You might get her to talk about it less, but you won’t get her to feel less.
So stop trying. You may be frustrated, guy, but stop trying to change how she feels. Instead, do the opposite. Encourage your partner to talk about herself. How does she feel (as opposed to what she thinks) when she reflects on you watching porn? Have her feelings about it changed over time? How does she believe it affects your sexual relationship? How does she feel about your sexual relationship in general? Are her feelings more about you watching porn or about you masturbating?
Further, what does she imagine you watch, what does she imagine you feel while you watch, what does she image you think about your experiences? What’s her theory about why you want to continue watching despite her discomfort?
Curiosity can be a beautiful thing.
You don’t have to agree with her about any of this, but knowing more about how she feels and what she imagines is crucial to the two of you resolving this chronic ache. The process of feeling more understood can itself be healing for her, just as the process of understanding her better will be valuable for you. The more you see her as a person in pain (rather than as someone hassling you over your unimportant private thing), the closer you’ll feel and the more emotionally flexible you’ll both be. That’s when you’re most likely to solve a problem together, rather than each partner suggesting solutions that mostly suit one of you.
When a couple is in conflict, each person’s instinct is usually the same: “You need to understand me better. Let me explain things again.” If both people are pursuing that path simultaneously, the exchange isn’t likely to be productive. If instead one or both people are committed to understanding the other person better, there’s a chance they can make progress on resolving the conflict.
So if your partner reveals that when she’s aware you’re watching porn she feels unimportant to you, or unattractive, or pushed away, don’t disagree or even reassure her. Start by trying to understand how she feels, and why; when you do, let her know it—not by saying so, but by paraphrasing what she’s telling you. Without correcting it or judging it.
This is no small thing. When your partner feels understood it’s easier to have a rational conversation about the options you have as a couple.
But what about her concerns? Year by year she gets older and, um, rounder—and the actresses you watch stay young and firm. She has the sense that you’re enjoying the heck out of something to which she’s not invited—which isn’t the way you two usually do things—right?. Even if she’s not jealous of the actresses who entertain you, she knows that you’re experiencing sexual highlights without her. She’s not part of your fantasies (our regular partners seldom are), and she’s not there when you have your moments of intense pleasure.
And she assumes this isn’t temporary.
You’re gone, enjoying a new hobby that you two don’t discuss. For some women, it feels like there’s a void in their own home. Like if you discovered she had a new friend whom you knew almost nothing about, and whom you two never discussed. And that you knew you probably never would.
And she’s undoubtedly seen at least one story somewhere about how dangerous porn is for both users and their families. It probably seemed quite authoritative.
So how do you suppose she feels about all this?
I don’t expect you to know. I expect you to wonder. That’s curiosity.
I don’t expect you to know. I expect you to suppose—it might be this, it might be that. I expect you to imagine how you’d feel if the positions were reversed. That’s empathy.
This is how you get beyond the “porn is crap,” “no it’s not;” “porn demeans women,” “no it doesn’t” non-conversation: with curiosity and empathy. So your conversations about porn can get past the porn part—to the people and to their relationship. To you and her.
Interlude G
IS THERE SUCH A THING AS GAY (OR STRAIGHT) PORN?
We know there’s porn and we know there are gay people. But is there “gay porn?” Or is it simply porn featuring people of the same gender having sex together?
If it’s “gay porn,” then we would be surprised to find straight people looking at it. If it’s porn featuring same-gender sex, however, then we’d be surprised if there weren’t straight people watching it.
It’s the latter, of course. Adults find all sorts of fantasies and images sexy—and they don’t necessarily have anything to do with their real-life desires. That is, enjoying scenes of two men having oral sex doesn’t make a man gay. Similarly, enjoying looking at fictional scenes of sexual coercion (or fantasizing being raped) doesn’t mean a person wants that in real life.
To put it another way, what arouses us is only part of our sexual orientation. If you want to know if someone’s gay, straight, or bi, ask them who they have sex with (and who they want to have sex with in real life), not what videos they like to watch.
The question came up in a professional conversation the other day, when an inexperienced therapist asked why some straight men were attracted to websites featuring pre-operative transsexuals (typically advertised as “tranny,” “she-male,” or “lady-boy” porn)—that is, images of people with women’s breasts and a penis.
Why wouldn’t they? Talk about having your cake and eating it too! Most straight men enjoy women’s breasts, and most straight men are fascinated with penises. This porn allows the viewer to enjoy both at the same time. And the arithmetical possibilities—whether the performer is onscreen with one ot
her person or several—are increased geometrically. A fellatio train, anyone? Domination-submission-domination-submission, anyone?
That’s why I discourage my straight patients from using the expression “gay fantasy,” and discourage my gay patients from saying “straight fantasy” (unless they’re fantasies about being gay or straight, which is a different matter). These expressions actually cloud things, because they suggest that the enjoyment of cross-orientation fantasies needs explanation.
An investigation can be valuable, of course, especially if people have trouble thinking about or acknowledging their interests or curiosity. Sometimes the content of a favorite fantasy is a metaphor or an indirect expression of interest. A same-gender fantasy may excite a straight person because of, say, power dynamics. A mixed-gender fantasy may excite a gay person because of, say, a sense of belonging.
It turns out that sexuality is more complicated than gay-or-straight. In 1948, Alfred Kinsey presented data showing that “the world is not simply divided into sheep and goats,” and presented his 7-point Kinsey Scale of sexual orientation. These days, expressions like GLBTQQ remind us that a person’s sexual orientation is a movie, not a photograph; interests, aspirations, and behavior can change over time. Curiosity and experimentation can take us in unexpected (sometimes even boring) directions. In that sense, we’re all “queer,” and potentially or actually “questioning.”
Ultimately, it’s more important to enjoy our fantasies than to understand or decode them. Most of us enjoy mainstream entertainment—whether violent video games, syrupy romance novels, detailed historical documentaries, or utopian science fiction films—without wondering what our preferences for these things “mean.” We all know perfectly gentle people who enjoy the brutal weekly mayhem on CSI or Bones or whatever the latest adrenalin-pumper is. We may criticize their taste, but we don’t need to fear their violent impulses.
Unless, of course, we try to change the channel.
Interlude H
HOW TO WATCH A LOT OF PORN AND HAVE GOOD PARTNER SEX, TOO
Say you watch a lot of porn.
Say you want to have really enjoyable sex.
Some people say you have to choose one or the other.
Some say that porn changes your brain so you can’t enjoy sex with a real person. Nonsense. If you don’t want sex with a real person, it’s either because you don’t desire the person you’re with, or because you have issues about sex or closeness. That’s when watching porn is a lot easier than creating good sex. But let’s not blame the porn.
Some say that porn gives you unrealistic ideas about sex. Yes, that happens—unrealistic ideas about what people look like, sound like, do, want, and about how communication and hugging have very little place in sex. Unrealistic ideas about sex—whether you get them from porn, from religion, from Cosmopolitan, or from your father—make it hard to create enjoyable sex.
And some say that porn provides such powerful images that we inevitably compare our own sex to the images—and of course we seem pretty lame in comparison. Yes, that happens. That even happens to people who don’t look at porn, who have sex with someone who does. They imagine you’re thinking about porn when you make love, which makes them think about porn when they make love, and that’s bad for sex all the way around.
Some people say the solution is to stop watching porn. Probably not gonna happen. And probably wouldn’t solve most of the problem anyway.
Rather, I say the solution is to make love consciously, and to watch porn consciously. That helps to keep the two activities separate, which is the key to enjoying both.
So if you want to watch a lot of porn and have good sex, here’s what to do:
Remember that porn is fiction. It’s not a documentary, it’s a highlight reel. It involves lighting, editing, and off-camera preparation. It’s planned ahead of time so that everything looks perfect.
During partner sex, learn how to focus your attention on your body—how your partner’s hair smells, how your partner’s nipple tastes, how your partner’s skin feels, and so on. Center your sexual experience in what you’re feeling rather than in what you’re thinking.
Don’t expect sex to feel how porn looks. That’s like expecting driving your car to feel like driving a Maserati looks. Or expecting playing tennis to feel like Wimbledon looks. Reality can’t compete with created images. We have to value reality for itself.
Know what your partner likes and wants. That won’t match what people do in porn films. Adjust your expectations accordingly.
Budget plenty of time to explore your partner’s desires, and find the ones that you enjoy.
Remember that unlike watching a porn film, orgasm isn’t the point. The goal of sex is to enjoy yourself and to feel glad you’re alive. Orgasm lasts maybe five seconds. Do the math—five seconds out of 20 minutes of sex isn’t much. Learn to enjoy the rest of the sex. Learn to create sex that you enjoy.
Be flexible if things don’t go exactly as you want. You can be ashamed, angry, or afraid, or you can move closer to your partner, gently smile, and say, “Well, let’s go ahead and do something else, right?”
In general, talk more and screw less. You’ll get more out of the experience, and you’re more likely to get more chances. Kiss more and screw less. Caress more and screw less. Laugh more and screw less. Whisper more and screw less. Sex—and whispering and kissing—is for people. Porn is for paid professionals. Make love, not porn.
Ask a friendly question every time you have sex: Do you like this? Would you like that better if I went faster? Is that a good “Oh!” or a problem “Oh!”? People don’t do that on camera—which is part of what can make real sex better than porn.
So sure, you can watch a lot of porn and enjoy sex with a real person. You just have to remember which is which.
Interlude I
DOES PORN DEMEAN WOMEN?
I don’t think this is a very helpful question.
Porn is a compendium of human fantasies about sexuality—and, therefore, about power, pleasure, connection, anger, fear, gender, desire, beauty, comfort, the exotic, and many other things.
Of course, human sexuality involves enormous doses of imagination. That’s part of what gives it so much impact in our lives.
So when some people criticize that “porn demeans women,” I wonder if they’re objecting to men’s and women’s sexual imaginations, or men’s and women’s sexual behavior, or to some hypothesized interaction between the two.
A small amount of porn depicts male characters committing violent acts against female characters who seem to be suffering. Watching this appears to be erotic for some men (and more than a few women). Some people don’t like this fact—a fact that shouldn’t be blamed on porn. Do these depictions “demean women?” No. They are fictional portrayals that many people find distasteful, which is a quite different thing. They show situations, emotions, behaviors—and yes, sometimes cruelty—drawn from the human sexual imagination.
This material represents a very small amount of pornography, precisely because most consumers do not find such things erotically engaging—which is the whole point of watching porn.
On the other hand, some amount of porn depicts characters engaged in erotic power play: teasing, spanking, constraining, controlling, pretend coercion. Men and women have found stories, music, or pictures of such things exciting throughout history. And many lovers do these or related activities in real life. In the world of human sexuality, power is a primary currency, so our sexual imagination is rich with it.
This power dynamic in consenting relationships is paradoxical: two people cooperatively agree to divide up power in an asymmetrical way for a specified time period (the asymmetrical arrangement typically ends when the sex is finished, sometimes even sooner). For erotic purposes, they then pretend this division of power is real and not under their control. So regardless of handcuffs or stern words or candle wax, this dynamic really exists only in the imagination. Depicting this visually is an artistic challeng
e, whether for pornography or Sharon Stone, for Andy Warhol or Jane Campion.
So does porn demean women?
Aside from the overt violence (not the pretend coercion of sexual games common in both porn and real-life sex) of interest to a very small number of consumers, what else does porn typically depict that some people critique as demeaning to women?
Fictional depictions of female lust. Female sexual desire. Female exhibitionism. Female submission. Female domination. Women flaunting their bodies. Woman–woman sex. Women taking joy in their sexual pleasure. Women taking joy in their partner’s pleasure. Women wanting whatever mental or physical satisfaction that sex seems to be offering in a given situation.
Why would anyone object to any of these fictional depictions? If those things are demeaning to women, how wholesome, how puerile, how stripped of eroticism does a woman’s sexuality need to be before victim-oriented “feminists” like John Stoltenberg, Rebecca Whisnant, or Catharine MacKinnon say it is not “demeaning” to her?
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To say that porn demeans women is to deny the reality of some women’s passion, lust, and desire. It’s to say that women never enjoy what men enjoy. It’s to say that women don’t enjoy playing games with their sexuality, including power games. It’s to say that women shouldn’t be who they are or enjoy who they are, but that they can only enjoy “authentic” sexuality within limited (and historically stereotypical) bounds.
This is not feminism.
Saying that men are exploiting women when men are enjoying female eroticism is what demeans women. It objectifies women and cheapens the eroticism they create. To say that women are being exploited when a male gaze is enjoying their pleasure or enjoying images of female eroticism is to rip the partners’ collaboration out of sex. It actually says that female sexuality is defined by the male gaze, that the male gaze trivializes female eroticism. No, female eroticism has its own authenticity and integrity whether men are observing or not—meaning yes, it has authenticity even when men are observing.