Am I normal?
It’s arguably one of humanity’s most fundamental questions and one we ask ourselves often, if not explicitly then certainly subconsciously.
Whether it’s our politics or outfits, we’re always dipping mental litmus papers into the cultural water to check that we’re aligned. Using a mix of friends, family, media and institutions to make sure we’re not too this, not too that but just right.
And while it happens with everything we do, rarely is the litmus result as important as when it concerns our sexuality. Something that becomes awfully difficult when our benchmarks for a deeply intimate experience are formed exclusively from public, fictional depictions.
Between Tinder and Hinge, Pornhub and 50 Shades of Grey, media has never been as explicit as it is today. Setting aside questions of whether this is or isn’t a good/bad/ethical/sustainable thing, one problem remains; our dialogue with real people hasn’t progressed at the same pace.
This isn’t to say we aren’t talking about our own experiences more openly than before (because we absolutely are). Rather, real-life is now vastly outweighed by the media when it comes to our ideas and expectations of sex.
The issue? For a lot of the population – particularly women – the picture of sexual drive presented in the media isn’t close to accurate even at the best of times.
So, as you can guess, I’ve been thinking about sex. Or, more precisely, the inaccurate stories we’re told about what actually drives our sex drive.
As is standard, the thinking was inspired by a book. In this case, Gabrielle Jackson ‘Pain and Prejudice’. A ruthless dissection of how society responds to women and their pain, it was Jackson’s meaty chapter on sex, featuring researcher and author Emily Nagoski that caught my mind. Taking just a few chapters to throw everything I thought I knew about sex, desire, arousal and drive out the proverbial window.
For the male readers, read on. Because, ironically enough, while popular culture prioritises the ‘male’ sex drive, it’s one many men don’t even identify with.
A man’s largest sex organ is, on average, 1.3kg.
A woman’s is 1.2kg.
Yup, we’re talking about brains.
Although, if your main source of sex education was the media (which is statistically likely in NZ), it’s fair you thought of the A-list body parts. They are (sometimes literally) the star of the show and while responsible the physical side of your sex drive (arousal), they’re hopeless and explaining the illogical, inconsistent mental side.
Instead, that’s the domain of the brain. The organ firing messaging along 100 trillion neural pathways as it tries to connect our emotional/mental experience with our physical one.
With this in mind, sexual drive already becomes less of a tactile formula and instead, an elaborate network. One where tangential factors like stress, body image, trust and self-esteem all play a significant part.
Unfortunately for some, this means pleasure becomes about far more than just the physical ‘moves’.
As Nagoski excellently describes it: “pleasure is not a simple, “I like to be touched in this particular way”, or “I like to be touched in this particular part of my body”. It’s “I like to be touched when I’m in a particular state of mind when the world is treating me in a particular way”.
It’s why your partner can do something that feels i-n-c-r-e-d-i-b-l-e but do the exact same thing the next day and it feel unsatisfying because we’ve had an argument/work conflict/illness/literally-anything-emotional.
The physical sensation hasn’t changed but the context has.
Simply put, the physical (arousal) is important, but equally so is the mental (desire). One will occur first (which one that varies from person to person), but both are essential for success.
So, which occurs first?
Well, like all things related to our body and its mysterious ways… it depends.
It’s here we encounter an idea that (at risk of sounding melodramatic) totally changed how I thought about sex drive. It’s the science of Spontaneous vs. Responsive desire.
According to Nagoski, we experience desire (a strong feeling of wanting) in two ways;
1. Spontaneously.
Often considered the ‘male’ experience, it describes when the mental interest in sex happens first. You walk down the street or are sitting at your desk and suddenly sex is on your mind. Then, if you’re in a position to pursue the desire with someone, your body physically responds. Nagoski’s studies find 75% of men tend towards spontaneous desire and 15% of women.
2. Responsively.
Alternatively, the process is flipped. You feel the physical readiness before the mental desire. This could look like being intimate but not really feeling it until suddenly your mind kicks into gear and it’s on. As one could expect, Nagoski found 5% of men identified with responsive desire, and 30% of women (the remaining 20% of men and 55% of women felt it was a bit of both).
Responsive, spontaneous, it doesn’t matter as long as you get there consensually and satisfyingly, right?
Yes. Except, when only one type of desire is represented in media it becomes the only recognized experience. It doesn’t take an expert to know that, when it comes to the deeply formative media we consume, it’s the male-skewed spontaneous desire that is presented as the norm.
Rarely will the rugged hero or provocative protagonist not initiate spontaneously, or at least go from 0 to 100 when someone else does. Rarely will they need a few minutes to get in the mood, or simply turn around and say ‘I’ve had a fat day/stressful day/ emotional day, maybe not?’. When we’re tasked with only thinking of male portrayals, it becomes increasingly difficult.
So, spontaneous desire becomes the standard. Meanwhile, 18% of the population whose sex drive is only responsive (and the additional 37% who have a mix) are labelled as having low-libido or no desire, rather than simply people who get there differently.
Why?
Because we’re far more likely to label ourselves as abnormal than we are to question whether the definition of ‘normal’ is even accurate.
We’re far more likely to trust the deluge of films, tv shows, social media feeds, websites, podcasts, books, articles than confer with a real-life community.
So, for everyone who needs it (and friends of yours who do too) here’s a truth we need to hear:
Don’t randomly want to make a booty call while cooking dinner? Your sex drive is normal. Rarely want to tear your partner’s clothes off unless they make the first move? Your sex drive is normal. Content with watching a movie with someone being just that? Your sex drive is normal. Need time to get your mind off work and into an intimate moment? Our friend Emily Nagoski has good news for you; your sex drive is totally normal.
In all honesty, I’ve been thinking about this topic for a few months now but it always seemed too intimate, too awkward. Destined for mess and misunderstanding. Knowing just enough about this oceanic topic to be enormously curious but so far from any sort of authority.
And yet.
As we take more litmus tests from the media, and less from our community, we have to be more critical. We have to challenge the narrow representations and not rob ourselves of the different ways we can engage in intimacy.
Firstly for women/other minorities groups whose experiences have been demoted but also because, when we make space for diverse sexual experiences, we make space for everyone.
It’s not an either/or but a both/and.
For the spontaneous women, responsive men and everyone in between.
So, that’s what I’ve been thinking about and talking about with friends and family, boomers and Gen-Z’s and I really do encourage you to do the same. Counter the narratives, share experiences and if nothing else, spice up that lockdown dinner time chat.
Well, if you’ve made it this far you must like what you see, so click the button and share with your mates!