The Blue Pill Or The Red Pill? Two Approaches To A Happier Marital Sex Life. And One Sucks.

In the course of doing some research for a professional project, I came across a couple of books which both purport to solve the age-old problem: How to get your wife to keep having sex with you after the honeymoon.

This is mostly a male issue, but it’s one that’s increasingly important to a lot of middle-aged men. And almost all married men. So with that in mind, I picked up “How To Get Your Wife To Have Sex With You”, by Logan Levkoff, Ph.D., a sex researcher. I was recommended the book by the Good In Bed site, which includes a lot of sex experts, including one of my faves, the other Sex Nerd, Emily Nagoski.

So Dr. Levkoff is a sex expert. In fact, she’s “A recognized expert on sexuality and relationships”, according to the site (although it fails to mention who granted her that recognition) and “a thought leader in the field of human sexuality”, whatever that means. As far as academic credentials go, she’s an AASECT certified sex educator, she received her Ph.D. in Human Sexuality, Marriage, and Family Life Education from New York University and has an M.S. in Human Sexuality Education and a B.A. in English from the University of Pennsylvania.

So she’s got some initials. She’s got some diplomas. On paper, she should have the answers. But does she have the goods?

I’m afraid to say, gentlemen, that no, she does not.

This book is essentially a long female manifesto of how you, too, can become the perfect Blue Pill Beta. That is, it encourages men to sacrifice their own sexual interests for the sake of their wives’, with little understanding or appreciation for male sexuality at all. Indeed, for a sex expert Dr. Levkoff seems profoundly ignorant of some basic issues of modern male sexuality, when applied to this particular situation.

A better title for the book would be “How To Capitulate To Your Wife’s Idea Of Sex To Minutely Increase Your Chances Of Having Any Kind Of Sex At All.”

Dr. Levkoff starts off in an utterly condescending manner in failed attempt to make it "easy to understand" for us poor, stupid males. She explains why wives don’t want to have sex with their husbands: “You guys act like such babies sometimes and we have those already.” She actually says that in the first few pages. It's a section dripping with barely-disguised contempt for masculinity.

If a male sex expert (such as myself, or even someone with initials after their name) began a self-described sexual manifesto with “You girls act like such controlling be-yatches sometimes and we’ve dealt with enough of those in our lives already”, you can imagine that there would be hell to pay. But Dr. Levkoff has no problem savaging men in general, and in particular on the subject of our sexuality. The subtext is clear: In a functional relationship, women naturally do not want to have sex with the men who have pledged their lives and fidelity to them. It’s our job, then, to make any sex that does happen occur. Because otherwise, wives would just rather not.

Great way to start off, Dr. Levkoff. I’m feeling more empowered already.

She completely ignores the potent role sexual rejection has on the male psyche, and the natural consequences of that rejection. Rejection is OUR PROBLEM, she tells men, not their wives. If your wife doesn’t want to have sex with you, according to Dr. Levkoff, it’s your fault, not hers. If she doesn’t want to have sex with you, then you’re supposed to ignore the deep, biting feeling of personal despair and loss of self-esteem that this entails, and “don’t take it personally”. Even though it’s the most personal possible subject.

There is virtually no discussion whatsoever about how a wife’s sexual rejection of her husband naturally transforms into emotional distance and sexual objectification in his mind – a handy hint to all of the wives out there. And there are no helpful hints about how to keep from spiraling into despair and depression over continuous rejection by the only person you’re legally allowed to have sex with. Just an admonition that you shouldn’t take her rejection personally because “it’s not about you”.

It’s about her.

That’s right, as Dr. Levkoff sees it, your sex life as a couple is about her, not about you. It’s her needs that matter, not yours. Your needs are a given, a constant, and therefore something she can comfortably ignorable. The fact that SHE is the one rejecting YOU, that doesn’t enter into the equation at all.

And that’s just the introduction.

In the first chapter of the “Out of Bed” section, Dr. Levkoff starts off her manifesto by insulting the erection. Not a good start. Ladies, Rule Number One For Dealing With Dudes: Never Diminish The Penis. Got it? Learn it by heart. Seriously.

Apparently the whole “men like their erections, and their penises in general, and generally don’t appreciate it when you diminish them” message didn’t get across to Dr. Levkoff during her professional education, because throughout the book she treats them with disrespect and thinly-disguised scorn and condescension. There is little respect for the organ, or the use to which it is put – at best, it’s amusing to her; at worst, it’s an annoyance that wives can do without. While she casually mentions how vibrators aren’t replacements for “a hot blooded man” in the extensive section of the book dealing with vibrators, she fails to enumerate her reasoning in any convincing fashion. In fact, she gives far, far more attention to sex toys than the penis in this book.

That should tell you something.

Throughout the book Dr. Levkoff treats men like idiots who have never heard of foreplay. While a certain amount of that is understandable, given the erotic ignorance of some men, the fact is that most men actually seeking answers in Dr. Levkoff’s book have likely long ago studied all about foreplay. Indeed, most men in a sex-lite marriage would be thrilled to death to indulge in foreplay, instead of the “Oh, GOD, you want to do it again?” quickies they survive on. The complaint of men who are searching for these answers usually has little to do with their willingness to enjoy foreplay. It’s when their foreplay doesn’t come to fruition that they become frustrated – and Dr. Levkoff has little to offer during that instance except “get over it”.

She declares “Begin the day with a hug” . . . and apparently no expectations of sex from your wife. Her attitude seems to be that if you remove every last thing that is bothering her then she won’t have any reason to turn you down . . . unless she just doesn’t feel like it, in which case you just need to get used to it. Expecting sex after you’ve devoted your day to the kind of intense arse-kissing and ego-massaging of your wife, often to your own detriment, is just a bad idea, according to Dr. Levkoff. If she does have sex with you, it won’t be because of anything you do or don’t do, it will be purely because of her whim and her grace. “Begin the day with a hug” is indeed great advice for men who follow Dr. Levkoff’s book, therefore, but the rest of the sentence should read “. . . because that’s about as close to her vagina as you can reasonably expect to get.”

Other examples of great advice from the book? Don’t piss her off. Dr. Levkoff freely acknowledges that women use sex as a weapon to keep and maintain power in their marital relationships: “We will hold a grudge and the last thing we’ll want to do is give you sex.” In no way does she suggest that this application of power is unfair or exploitive, demeaning or harmful. As a matter of fact, she seems stubbornly proud of this willingness on the part of wives to cut off their husbands if they irritate them. So a vital part of her program involves utterly capitulating to your wife in an abasing attempt to lure her into sex. Because, as the good doctor points out, “We’d rather withhold than give you what you want”.

Of course, when a husband withholds non-sexual physical affection or verbal affirmation from his wife, that’s considered “emotional abuse” in some places and by a number of sex therapists, because that hurts your wife’s feelings. Your feelings – especially about sex – clearly just do not matter to Dr. Levkoff here. The important thing is to keep from pissing off your wife.

Dr. Levkoff goes on to recommend that you shower your wife with appreciation –and of course she doesn’t have to appreciate you in return – in the form of near-constant attention to her. You should buy her things, be emotionally vulnerable to her, be verbally expressive of your (only positive) feelings about her, and flatter her incessantly. You should be willing and eager to listen to what is going on in her life (although Dr. Levkoff has little to say about how involved and interested she should be in yours) without expectation that this will lead to sexual intimacy. But I do give her credit on this point: she graciously admits that, gosh, sometimes women use rote “I love you” responses too, and maybe they should put a little more effort into it.

In Dr. Levkoff’s plan, daily undying expressions of love and heartfelt devotion without any reciprocation are expected, if you want to get laid by your own wife. “It’s the stuff of cheesy romance novels and we don’t want to hear it all the time” she says, inadvertently putting her finger on a serious part of the problem.

Allow me to digress a moment to explain to the ignorant:

Romance novels fuel female romantic fantasy life. While this is usually a good thing, they also promote certain tropes which give highly unrealistic expectations to women about how real relationships work. In romance novels the hero is always tall, good-looking, rich, successful and in love with the heroine for no good specific reason except she’s beautiful. He always struggles with his desire for her and ends up passionately declaring his love for her, no matter how much of a miserable creature she is, his absolute need to be with her to the exclusion of any other person or thing being foremost in his mind. The romantic hero routinely reveals his deepest emotional vulnerabilities which she – and only she – can evoke. And he does this like six or seven times each novel, until any sane man who has experience in a relationship wants to throw up.

Here’s a hint, ladies: span style="font-style:italic;">real men don’t do this. You shouldn’t expect real men to do this. You can be a real good man and not do this. In fact, the number of men for whom this is possible are usually either gay or players. In other words, you should be immediately be wary of any man who actually can do this.

But the deep, eloquent, heartfelt declaration of love from your man is right up there with the moans and howls that porn stars use when they fake an orgasm. It builds up the same kinds of highly unrealistic expectations, the same inevitable disappointments, and the same dissatisfaction with your marriage that watching too much porn can for your husband. Romance novels are about FANTASY, after all. At least, that’s what women keep telling us. So the next time you want your dude to bust out with the expressions of undying love, perhaps you can find it in your soul to talk a little dirty to him during sex, and see how natural it feels when you do it. End of digression.

But the point is well-taken: wives are getting their cues for what constitutes “romance” from such things as romance novels and soap operas and supernatural thrillers written from the vampire’s point of view. Which means that the romantic expectations they have of their husbands are highly unrealistic to begin with. Does Dr. Levkoff address this glaring discrepancy in inter-gender relations? No, she invites men to start reading “erotic” romances instead of watching porn, essentially telling them to capitulate – once again – to their wives’ ideas and ideals about sex at the expense of their own.

She brings up that old marriage counselor standard for saving marriages, Date night (duh!), although she’s quite explicit about what this entails: YOU plan dates for US. YOU can BUY US things and ENTERTAIN US, without any expectations for reciprocation or even appreciation. Levkoff trots out the trite old “just make her a mix tape” suggestion as if it’s a novel idea. News flash: most of the guys reading this book tried that long ago. Hell, for some dudes the mix tape is the only game they ever had.

And then there’s this heartbreaking lie: If you clean the house, you get laid.

I’m going to call bullshit on that one.

The myth that women do all of the housework is long over, and within my generation the split is about 50/50 now. If your mileage varies from that, you’re an exception in this day and age. It may be even more tilted in favor of husbands, once you add in yard, house and lawn maintenance into the equation.

Here’s the fact: your wife might freak out over a messy house, but cleaning it won’t get you laid. It won’t get you a BJ. It won’t even get you bragged about to her girlfriends. It might get you verbally appreciated – the first time – but after that it’s expected and goes unrewarded. Sure, she might be able to unwind more in a clean house – I’m sure we all would – but the reality on the ground is that any house with kids is always going to need more cleaning. Using that as an excuse not to sleep with your husband is both gallingly disrespectful to him and a tacit admission of control and manipulation on your part.

And so on.

Mostly this book is tacitly about female entitlement, and what women “deserve”. Nowhere in the book does it mention a man deserves jack squat. It reads like a litany of female entitlement and male blame: if a couple isn’t having sex enough, then the answer is always about how HE isn’t doing it right. Obviously the way to cure this is for HIM to re-design his sexuality around HER needs and desires, according to the good doctor. If she’s stressed about housework, it’s because HE isn’t doing enough. If she’s stressed about her body image, it’s because HE isn’t paying her enough compliments. Even when she occasionally drops us a bone by admitting that women have some responsibility for their own sexuality in the relationship, she rationalizes it away as “that’s just the way things are”. Get used to it.

She’s condescending. She’s insulting. She treats men like the idiots she obviously takes them for. In the same book that she complains that men shouldn’t watch porn when they have a willing partner in the next room, she also explains how it ordinarily takes many long hours of foreplay for a woman to be ‘ready for sex’. (So much for a “willing” partner . . .). With the picture she paints in this book, including the focus on how much non-sexual intimacy a man should have to perform before he is granted access to sex by his wife, one would wonder why any husband would demean himself over that length of time for the pleasure of twenty minutes of erotic mediocrity, when he could have big busty co-eds at his fingertips on-line without expending more energy than locking the door.

In fact, for a sex researcher, she seems to have an abysmal understanding of male sexuality beyond the basic “men want to have sex all the time” thought. The underlying premise in this book is that if a husband doesn’t piss off his wife and kisses her arse all the time – essentially capitulating to the feminine ideal of romantic and erotic love at the expense of the male ideal of sexual romance and adventure – then the woman in your life will graciously bestow on you that which you seek.

Maybe. If you’re lucky. And she feels like it. And if she doesn’t, then don’t take it personally, it’s still your fault, and you probably screwed it up somewhere along the line anyway, so you don’t really deserve it.

Most galling, she compares marriage to a fairy tale, and expects the men who are her supposed audience to relate to that analogy. It stands to reason, as “marriage-as-fairy-tale” is clearly at the heart of the female marital fantasy. But let me spell something out for the good doctor, and all of the women who are reading this: Men do not, and have never, envisioned a successful marriage as a fairy-tale romance. And anyone who purports to know male sexuality enough to be able to sling around the term “sex expert” should recognize that.

Women see marriage as a fairy tale – it’s there from the moment they watch their first Disney movie, if not before. The culmination of every successful romance novel is the heroine and the love interest heading down the aisle. It’s so commonplace that professional romance writers even use it as shorthand for the end of the book: “HEA”. To women, the wedding is the prize that they get at the end of the passionate courtship, the culmination of all of their romantic thoughts and feelings. There’s a reason why it’s usually the bride, not the groom, who’s freaking out over wedding preparations. It’s her “Princess Moment”, when her husband takes her away to live in a state of bliss like some Prince Charming.

Only, that’s not how men see marriage. It’s not a fairy tale. We know it’s a lot of hard work because we saw what our fathers went through with our mothers. We know all of the downsides from the start, including just what might happen if children become part of the equation. We saw the looks of despair and suffering on our fathers’ faces every time they sacrificed some shred of dignity or respect on the altar of their marriage. That’s no fairy tale.

When men decide to get married, and marry a particular woman, they aren’t seeing it as a fairy tale come to life, they’re envisioning it as a never-ending porn flick. Our “Happily Ever After” includes frequent, lusty, adventurous sex – the kind of sex we usually get in the months leading up to the marriage, if we’re lucky, as our intended brides try to keep us from bolting. Our HEA has spontaneous oral and lazy Saturday mornings and lunch-hour surprises and regular weekends away for mind-blowing hotel sex and far too much of the household budget spent on lingerie and sex toys. It involves explaining scratches on your back when you whip off your shirt at basketball practice. It involves telling an attractive stranger who asks for your number that you’re happily married, without having to explain just why you’re happy you got married.

To men, the idea of marriage revolves around the idea of access to sex with our wives, with just about everything else as a secondary issue. It has little to do with declarations of undying love or doing a load of laundry. As much as we value their companionship and friendship, sex with our wives is a central – if not the central – component to our conception of marriage. You take the sex away, or reduce it to occasions memorable for their rarity, not their inspiration, and you kick a supporting pillar out from under the marriage whether you recognize it as such or not.

Because one glaring issue that Dr. Levkoff ignores or takes for granted is that the men reading this book, who are obviously distressed about their marital sex lives and want to repair the problem, aren’t looking at it from a “how can we add spice in the bedroom”-Cosmo-article perspective, where the price of failure is an indulgence in some retail therapy and a grande mochacino. The men who are reading this book are doing so because they are, consciously or subconsciously, contemplating infidelity, and they are desperate for options.

That’s the part that she takes for granted: the competitive nature of the situation. Dr. Levkoff blithely assumes that the men who are reading her advice are going to remain faithful to their wives regardless of the sexual situation in the marriage. She pretends that they have no other options. She presupposes that they will have to either capitulate to the whims of their wives at the cost of their own sexuality and sexual interests, or they will live just have to learn how to live in a low-sex marriage. She ignores the very real possibility that a man who tries her betamizing approach and does not get the desired response will eventually end up with recourse to Craig’s List, an office affair, or the good old fashioned neighborhood massage parlor.

In an age when a man can get sex delivered discreetly to his door with an email and a credit card, and where the number of single women looking for husbands has hit epidemic proportions, men have far more practical options for infidelity than ever before. When he can go to a website that guarantees a no-strings-attached discreet affair with a like-minded dissatisfied wife of some other husband, or a lusty single woman seeking some other woman’s unappreciated husband, it's hard to think that he can get consistently rejected for sex by his wife and not seriously contemplate an affair..

Believe me, there are plenty of folks who think the grass is greener out there. The middle-aged husband who unsuccessfully begs his wife for sex is going to look like a rock star to some other woman out there who will be more than happy to appreciate him sexually while she’s appreciating the security he provides her. The alternatives are there, they’re easy to find, and the only thing holding most frustrated husbands back from plunging headlong into the sexual smorgasbord they see online every day is a heroic dedication to their marriages and their wives and their families.

The rise of internet porn has likewise provided a sexual outlet for the husband that Dr. Levkoff does not fully appreciate in her book. Yes, she mentions it – somewhat distastefully, even as she graciously agrees that masturbation and fantasy is good for both men and women – but she doesn’t appreciate the magnitude of what it can mean within a marriage, both positive and negative.

For good or ill, porn has raised the level of competition in marriage by exposing husbands to a nearly endless variety of erotic whackfodder, offering documentary proof that women other than his wife “do those things”, and some with breathtaking regularity and eagerness. It has contributed to liberalizing sexual mores in our culture in a way not seen since the early days of Cosmopolitan and Playboy.

No longer does the simple possession of a vagina make a wife irresistible to her husband – now she’s expected to know how to use it effectively. If women have high expectations of men, thanks to romance novels and softcore vampire smut, then you can blame porn for men having higher expectations of their wives than they did a generation ago.

The draw is almost irresistible to the frustrated male rejected once too often. Indeed, the one leads to the other: men naturally disconnect and distance themselves after a rejection, and go into hard core (excuse the pun) objectifying mode when they are sexually rejected . . . and porn lets them do that better than Half Off Wing Night at Hooters. The advantages are clear: Internet porn doesn’t need foreplay. It doesn’t need to be told you don’t think it looks fat in those jeans. It doesn’t have to be assured, or flattered, or appreciated, and you are always assured of the outcome before you go there. You know if you watch porn, you’re probably going to have an orgasm. It’s quick, easy, and comforting to the soul. To married men, internet porn is like a sexual safety net.

But it’s not “real sex”. We know that. You know that. We never thought it was, and we never wanted to replace “real sex” with porn. But especially where a disparity of desire – or serious relationship issues – conspires to make everyone’s life miserable, porn is a way to keep the pressure off and keep you from doing something stupid.

But I digress. The upshot is that this is the perfect book of advice for the Blue Pill dude who wants to learn how to kiss his wife’s butt more, and maybe get laid a little bit more, maybe. The tone of the author to the intended reader is condescending and at times insulting, and despite the author’s credentials as a Ph. D. there is a startling lack of science in this book. Hormones are only touched on briefly, and only in the context of women’s hormones. Pheromones are barely mentioned at all. Men’s sexual needs are treated as a trivial option, and there is nothing here to help a man in a low-sex relationship convince his wife to take it up a notch – on the contrary, relying on this book will, indeed make your wife happy . . . but your penis won’t be impressed.

Next time, I’ll take a look at the book on the same subject that’s taking the Manosphere by storm: Athol Kay’s Married Man Sex Life Primer 2011. If this is the Blue Pill book for men to try to get laid in their marriages, Athol’s book is the Red Pill book – and it doesn’t suck. In fact, it seems to actually work.

The Manosphere, in context

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Nerd Girl Hall Of Fame: Temperance Brennan

Dr. Temperance Brennan ("Bones")

Shows like CSI and other procedurals can't hold a candle to the hit crime drama, Bones -- and it's not because of David Borneaz's hunky shoulders. It's because of the ultra-nerdy Dr. Temperance Brennan, a forensic anthropologist (see? I'm aroused already) who works at the Jeffersonian Institute, amongst an army of fellow nerds who figure out the identity of unknown human remains.

Dr. Brennan ("Bones" -- she specializes in them) is not overtly sexy -- indeed, it's her understated sexuality that makes her so appealing. On the show she rarely goes for the revealing, sticking instead to the tasteful -- but somehow that just makes her more attractive, not less. Bones has a smokin' body and a striking face (thanks in large part to Emily Deschanel's gorgeous bod), but it's her mind that's the sexy thing here.

Oh, she's no blushing virgin on the show -- in fact, her detached demeanor and empirical world-view make her almost refreshingly blunt about sex -- and she has her share of geeky partners over the show's many seasons. Dr. Brennan's distinct lack of social issues surrounding sex, and her logical, rational approach to . . . well, everything, including sex, gives  her an allure that you just can't buy with a garter belt and stockings. Indeed, it's her disdain for poorly-conceived cultural ideas about mating that makes her a hottie. You just can't have a brain that stuffed full

of amazing facts and laser-beam logic and take a divine prohibition against masturbation seriously, for instance.

It doesn't hurt that she surrounds herself with a lab full of doting geeks -- the female of the species in this case unusually attractive for a non-profit scientist, on the whole -- who see her genius surpassing their own, and don't resent it. Her best friend Angela is an image specialist with a far more common take on sexual matters -- and it is she, therefore, who advises Brennan on the lustier parts of the books she writes in her spare time. Angela's a perfect counterpoint to the stoic, Vulcan-like elegance of Brennan, a grown-up hippy chick who was just too darn brainy to spend her life backpacking through India. But her earthiness isn't the attraction in the show, it's clearly designed to act as a contrast to the distant, detached sexuality of the show's primary.

Therefore it is my pleasure to announce Dr. Temperance Brennan as this week's fictional Nerd Girl Hall of Fame inductee. Skeletal microfissures indicating a time of death have never been so sexy.

Nerd Girlz Rule

Some dudes like the idea of a big boobed, bubble-butt blonde with a low IQ and high gullability factor -- and while I can relate to that a a visceral level, the fact is that what trips my personal trigger (and I know I'm not alone on this) is the idea of a sexy, intelligent woman whose amazing body is a mere complement to her sexy, saucy brain. Yeah, I dig smart chicks. I have a thing for Hermione Granger and I'm not ashamed about it. I'll pass up a dozen blonde bombshells for the chance to cross swords (so to speak) with the brunette with the book and the glasses in the corner.

Brains and beauty, together, beat beauty alone. Brains, beauty and ambition are even hotter, and when you put brains, beauty and ambition on the same plate with a heaping side order of innovation . . . well, it's hard for me not to moan lustfully.

Case in point: one of my new lust-objects isn't on your standard adult site. She runs her own, The Naked Coder (http://thenakedcoder.com/wordpress/). With the motto "Code is Hot/Naked is Hotter", the site is a model of 21st century innovation.

You see, it's hard for a freelance web designer to make it in today's economy. There are so many, and a spiffy-looking homepage just doesn't stand out the way it used to. You need to throw in some flash, and not the computer kind. You need to throw in some sizzle. You need to get people's attention -- and Sarah White, the proprietor of the Naked Coder, has done just that by stripping down and hacking code the way the computer gods intended.

Sarah makes this promise:

If you’re interested in having a website built, I’d love to do it for you. And you can watch me do it…naked! I know you’ll find my work impeccable, my delivery punctual, and my prices reasonable (considering the perks!). No matter your web desires, I can fulfill them.

And of course there are dozens of more-or-less SFW pics peppering her site. Above is one of the tastier ones, but this nerdy chick has got it seriously going on when it comes to the flaunting of her deliciously svelte bod. The stunning combination of glasses, a trim and seductive body, and dark red hair is a boner-builder of epic proportions. Pressing the laptop up against her tits is just gravy.

Some, of course, will blanche at the idea that this lovely young woman would have to stoop to such stunts even in this economy, and condemn her for trading her dignity for filthy lucre. Those people are technically known as idiots.

What I see here isn't a woman "selling her body", but an intelligent and secure young woman providing a value-added service to her coding skills. There's no shame here, there's pride. All too often our society denigrates the beauty of those women who don't fulfill the zaftig blonde sex goddess role, making them feel inferior to the bombshells despite their undeniable beauty. If you don't look like a Cosmo model, in other words, no matter how pretty you are you are made to feel like a wallflower. This is especially true for the Nerd Girlz, who are not only made to feel inferior about their bodies, but also are socially denegrated for the fact that they have a brain and aren't afraid to use it.

Nerd Girls are not encouraged to consider themselves "sexy", and all too often the perception is that their devotion to the cerebral leaves no room for an active sex life. Having known more than a few, I can testify that the contrary is true: there's more to nerd girlz than a few sexual experiments at band camp. Sarah is making a stand here, whether she realizes it or not, a stand for all those nerdy girls in high school who were made to feel like flat-chested torchbearers while cheerleaders and popularity hounds went out of their way to make themselves feel better and the expense of their far more intelligent sisters.

Finding a good web designer who can deliver is hard enough -- finding one that does all that and who will show you her tits . . . that's priceless. I truly hope that Sarah will continue this spectacularly innovative approach to the mundane world of e-commerce, and I plan on interviewing her about her site. In the meantime, I'm establishing her as the first of my Nerd Girl Hall Of Fame, in celebration of her sexy cerebral celebrity. And if she sends me even more scandalous pix of her, I'll count myself as one fortunate nerd dude.

Thanks, Sarah. You make us all proud.

Aurora Snow: Porn MILF

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Porn V. Romance

Men like porn. Women like romance. Thus runs the conventional wisdom.

Porn is exploitive to women. Romance is good harmless fun. Thus runs the conventional wisdom.

Men treat women as sex objects. Women treat men as valuable partners in a relationship with no expectations or unreasonable demands. Thus runs the conventional wisdom.

As a porn-loving, sex-loving red-blooded heterosexual male, I find this a frustrating dichotomy. That doesn't mean I'm a slope-browed Neanderthal ready to drag any convenient woman back to my cave (I'm not in college any more, after all). No, I like relationships, I'm in a fabulous one that has lasted 19 years this past Sunday, and I'm probably one of the more romantic guys I know. But I like porn and I like sex, so to a lot of women out there, I'm a beast and an exploiter with unrealistic expectations of women in the bedroom.

Bullshit.

I came across a great blog post on the subject from the Ms. Naughty Porn For Women Blog (love it!), with the question "Why isn't there romance out there for men?" I was stumped by this, until I realized something. There is romance out there for men. It's called porn.

Okay, I can hear you screeching already that porn and romance are miles apart in so many ways that even mentioning them on the same page is suspect. But both media are designed to elicit an erotic response in the audience. Some might argue that romance has more merit because it deals with character and plot and motivation and feelings and life and all of that, while porn is the one-dimensional portrayal of a singular physical act, bereft of emotion and meaning. How can it be art, how can it even be entertainment, the cry goes, if it doesn't focus on these women as people, first?

But I would argue that those issues are largely of strong importance to women, not to men. Give the average male one of the better romance novels out there, and he'll end up shaking his head in disgust about the grossly unrealistic portrayals of the men in them, and if he's got a brain at all he might even start to realize something he's always suspected: that women in these books -- and by extension the women who read these books -- place a high value on men who they can economically and emotionally exploit.

That's a kind of devastating revelation for most men, believe it or not. While most women in our culture feel justified in their revulsion of being objectified by porn and it's cognates, say beer commercials and Hooter's, they think nothing of doing exactly the same thing to men, only using economic data instead of perceived prettiness, sexual availability and cup size. No man wants to think that a woman is just after him for his money, or his title, his tangible symbols of success. But if you take a good, long look at the dominant form of sexual entertainment women enjoy, the stuff that really gets to the dark heart of their fantasies, there's a thin veneer of sex over a massive desire for a credit check on perspective guy.

I have a good female friend of mine who was, until recently, single. She played the dating game pretty hard core, since she'd already had one failed marriage behind her, and she didn't want to repeat any mistakes. So I helped her get out there and get dating again after the divorce, because I'm nice like that, and after a few weeks she was back in the game.

Only when I checked in on her, I was appalled by what I found. This woman had always been adamantly anti-porn, insisting that it degraded and exploited women on the basis of their physical appearance and sexual availability. How could a man really get to know a woman, she complained, when he wouldn't date anyone in a B-minus cup size? Or with too big a nose? Or with any other of a hundred perceived physical flaws? It was unfair, she'd say, over and over again. It was unfair and it was wrong, and institutions like cheerleaders, Hooter's waitresses, strippers and pornstars purposefully poisoned the well for the rest of women by portraying standards of beauty that most women had no hope of achieving. I could see that, I suppose. If I was a flat-chested woman with an unfortunate face and a big ass, I might get a little grumpy about the buxom blonde who serves beer sans bra. I mean, isn't that every man's fantasy? (I tried to show her that no, it wasn't every man's fantasy, and probably not even a plurality's ultimate fantasy, but she refused to consider that).

But when I checked in on her, I found her screening her dates based on far more rigorous standards than mere penile size. I got to watch her in action one day when a new internet date popped up. She made a cautious, general inquiry, got his name and address, and promised to meet him for coffee. Then the real work began . . .

Within moments she had run his credit report, gotten verification of employment, evaluated his career path and speculated about his earning potential over a five-year period. She researched which high school and college he went to. She found out his parents' names and addresses and evaluated their home to establish their approximate net worth. She ran a criminal background check in both our town and his hometown. Next she had a Google maps aerial shot of his home, ran a search to verify that he owned it (but was pissed when she couldn't find out how much equity he had), speculated about how much left he had to pay on student loans assuming his initial starter salary in his field was x and that he had proceeded up the ladder at rate y . . . you get the picture. Before the Starbucks had even touched her lips, she knew more about this guy than a Secret Service background check would reveal.

I didn't just find this obsessive, I found it creepy. I thought it was an appalling aberration and quietly mentioned to my wife how our friend needed to invest in some therapy. Then my wife floored me by wishing out loud that she had access to those kinds of resources back when we were dating. I almost left the room in disgust.

This is the thing, ladies: you cannot criticize the false expectations and essentially exploitive nature of porn, and the powerful role it plays in the development of male sexual psychology, unless you're also willing to admit the false expectations and essentially exploitive nature of soap operas and romance novels. Does seeing a big-titted blonde writhe around in her panties while she proclaims how aroused she is make you mad? Well, seeing a successful businessman who's ecstatic waiting fifteen minutes after the dinner reservation for a date with a primped-out "strong, intelligent, caring and universally desirable woman", only to declare his love for her, insist that they wait for marriage to have sex, and offer to support her even though she has her own successful career turns my freakin' stomach.

The cartoon above spawned this whole tirade on the other blog, and I think it's worth studying. Because the two sides are equivalent, if not equivalently judged by our society. A woman can want her "prince" -- that is, a handsome, financial and/or careerwise successful man willing to risk all of his power and resources for her sorry little butt -- and be considered a "romantic idealist"; whereas when a man voices his desire for a "whore" -- that is, a reasonably attractive, sexually adventurous, sexually available woman without stifling inhibitions, hang-ups about sex, or an ungodly amount of relationship baggage -- we're considered "pigs". That is, when women follow their idealized fantasy, they are rewarded. When men follow ours, we are castigated and condemned.

That may not seem like a big deal to some of you, but I have sons. I don't want to see them exploited in the prime of their lives, no more than I want to see my daughter exploited. I plan on teaching them to be wary of the pernicious women out there who would treat them as “success objects”. I'll teach them that “So, where do you work?” is the moral equivalent of “So, how big are those boobs?” and “What kind of car do you drive?” is roughly the same as asking a woman, “So, what kind of birth control do you use?”. In essence, it's none of their damn business. Maybe you ladies don't think that how often you perform fellatio is a vital statistic worthy of making or breaking a relationship, but I assure you that it matters to a whole lot of men out there. About as much as most women desire their men to be gainfully employed. But inquiring about either subject on short acquaintance should be off-limits. You want to know how much that handsome guy you met in the bar last night makes? Then in the interest of fairness you should go ahead and tell him up front just how far you'll go on a first date before he invests one dime in the relationship. Fair is fair.

I do not want my boys falling prey to the same humiliating pop-culture exploitation of men that previous generations were exposed to, where a man is valued only for his abilities as a provider and his visible success, not his value as a human being. A woman doesn’t need to know how much a dude makes — or even if he has a job or still lives with his parents — before they decide whether or not to pursue a relationship with him, any more than a man needs to know whether or not a woman is open to the possibility of anal sex before he’s willing to pursue a relationship with her. Fair is fair.

Likewise, I'll condemn my single comrades' obfuscations about such things (and downright trickery) only when a woman is willing to give up all the cosmetics, clothing enhancements, and other obfuscations about her body and sexual availability. My wife was appalled when she found out a single male friend of ours was using other people's ATM receipts showing extremely high balances to give his number out to women. The dude works in a computer store. When he's out tom-catting, he has no compunctions about using whatever trickery necessary to get in a woman's pants -- without explicitly lying. I pointed out that he never claimed that was his ATM receipt, he just provided them with the information and they drew their own conclusions. My wife wasn't impressed.

So then I asked her if her single friends would agree to go out on a blind date with a guy they knew up front was only average-looking, who worked in a computer store with no hope of advancement, and who considered comic books and superhero figures as worthy investments in his future. She scoffed, of course. No woman in her right mind would date such an obvious loser, not unless she was desperate. They wouldn't, she assured me, even dress up much for a date like that, since they didn't need to impress a guy they had no intention of seeing again. Oh, he might be good for a date, but I couldn't seriously expect her pals to risk their hearts and tender parts on a guy who, let's face it, just wasn't going anywhere in life?

Why the double standard? So I asked her, If the dude was a real "prince", with limousines and a stock portfolio and real estate holdings, would her friends dress out then? Yes. Oh, mais ouis! Would they put a little effort into their cosmetics and clothes? Of course! Would they consider hiding their blemishes with cosmetics, concealing their saddle bags under Spanks, hoisting their boobs up in frilly bras that countered gravity, put their butts in the air with 4 inch heels that made their legs look great -- essentially all the traditional "feminine wiles" stuff that women spend so much time learning -- well, of course, if the guy was a "real prince" then every effort should be made. And if that didn't work, then lying to him outright about just about anything was acceptable, as long as they agonized about the guilt later.

But using a fake ATM receipt was deceitful and misleading, in her eyes.

Only it's not. Women can use the oppression meme and throw all the equality crap out the window and get away with it. But when men stand up for our sexual self-interest, we're monsters.

So, let's be blunt about this, shall we? Ladies, if you'll be our insatiable whore, then we'll be your handsome prince. Anything less on either side, and, well, I think we'll have to take it to arbitration.

Nina Hartley: Porn Feminist

Nina Hartley sometimes gets a lot of heat in some quarters because of her long tenure in a profession known for it's focus on youth, but the truth is that few other performers have done as much for the industry, and to the industry, as Nina has to such positive effect.

Nina GETS it. Nina Hartley is a sex worker, a porn actress, a strong intellectual voice about sex in America, and (this might surprise you) a feminist. In this outstanding interview with Anna North over at Jezebel (the site for horny women), Nina takes on several of the most controversial topics in the industry, and along the way reveals herself to be a loud, proud, pro-porn, sex-positive by-Goddess feminist voice in the sex industry. Nina Hartley understands that the freedom to do porn movies in our country isn't just about our First Amendment rights, it's about a woman exercising her most basic and fundamental right: the right to do with her body what she desires.

That's not always a popular position for a self-declared feminist to take -- but then again, there are so many factions and sub-factions of intellectual schools of thought throughout Feminism that such distinctions become moot after a while. And one must take these things in context: it's easy to preach about feminism when you're a tenure-protected Ivy League professor hawking your newest book; it's much more credible, to me at least, to see such a controversial feminist perspective from someone who has been at the bleeding edge of the sexual revolution for as long as Nina has. Nina has not just been a Professional woman, she's been a professional Woman -- using her femininity, in part, as her means of support. While some may consider that self-exploitation and degradation, compared to hallowed Ivy League crowd, are those academic voices not also trading on their femininity as a means of support? Is their gender and sex not implicitly necessary to support their assertions? Meanwhile, as the sex industry world-wide surges in this new open era of sexual entertainment, with perhaps millions making their living through it one way or another, the Ivy League crowd can only see the degradation, not the enlightenment, that exists there. Indeed, along with the fundamentalist religion crowd, they're the only ones who are pushing the idea that mixing sex and money for any purpose is dirty -- and those are exactly the attitudes that harm those in our industry the most.

Don't get me wrong -- child trafficking and sex trafficking is a horrific evil that should be aggressively opposed and prosecuted. And I won't deny that there are ugly parts to our industry. But there is a line, and those of us on the legal, legitimate side of that line provide for our families and pay taxes in our communities and to our respective nations just like autoworkers, firefighters, farmers and shop owners. Advancing the notion that the sex industry, in all of its manifestations, is morally repugnant instead of providing a good and valuable -- and necessary -- part of the entertainment world is ultimately harmful to those the academics profess to want to protect the most. Or, to paraphrase from the comments of Facebook's lame anti-porn page,

"Porn exploits women and makes them objects! And men who don't like sluts and watch porn . . . guess what, you're watching sluts!"

If you can't see the intellectual dishonesty in the above statement, then email me after class and I'll explain it to you.

A sampling of the quotes (full props to Anna North -- great interview!):

People get hysterical about sex. They want pornography to do the job that they themselves are not doing, which is educating our young people how to be safer. Unless a pornography movie is advertised as educational [...], it is not educational. And the fact that people are reduced to looking at an entertainment medium to find out about sex is sad. It would be less sad if it wasn't so tragic. Watching pornography to find out about how sex works is like watching a James Bond movie to find out how spies do their job.

Priceless! And so true! And . . .

"We have tall and thin we have short and thick we have boxy-waisted, short-legged, long-legged, flat, big big butts, small butts, bit of a tummy. Women who are actually not the standard of beauty get work in pornography who would never get work in mainstream Hollywood." And, she added, "I have two words for you-April Flores."

LOVE it! The myth of the blonde-bubble-butt-sex-goddess being the be-all and end-all of feminine sexuality is one of my pet peeves. When they were only making a few hundred movies a year, the Porn Blonde was the lowest common denominator; but with the digital media explosion (and the willingness of so many to suddenly flaunt their naughty bits on camera) now the porn consumer has a much wider market to choose from. Given a choice, people choose -- and the Porn Blonde, while still strong, isn't the only game in town. While the greater Feminist community has yet to clue in to this serious development on the front lines of the sexual revolution, the fact is that in cultural terms it's dawning on guys that the Perfect Woman comes in infinite varieties and vintages. And it's dawning on women that their coochies don't have an expiration date that makes them unfuckable after thirty. (Or forty. Or whenever the next milestone birthday is). People aren't just burying themselves in porn, they're hooking up on the internet all over the place, and they seem to be valuing authenticity over a standard of iconic beauty in their choices.

And while that might not mean very much to the Ivy League Feminists, the positive effects are being felt in the sex lives of women all across the world. And that has to be a victory for feminism, if not Feminism.

Thanks, Nina!

BTW, just got the first look at Nina's new appearance in the MILF flick Seasoned Players 12 (Tom Byron Pictures), where she does a sizzling interracial anal scene with veteran ebony cocksman Sean Michaels. No, you don't have to gleefully take an 11" black prick up your ass to get my attention in a discussion about feminism, but any woman who can do that with a smile on her face automatically gets my respect, if not my full attention. But the scene proves Nina still has game -- maybe now more than ever! -- and you should check out the flick. (Besides, it has one of my favorite stars, Aurora Snow, in it as well -- does this mean I get to lust over you all over again as a MILF, Aurora? You're too good to me . . .)

Ian's Advice: Adventures In E-Dating

Got my first real advice question! This comes in from one of my fans:

Dear Ian,

I spent an amazing week with a guy I met on the internet in March, he came back the end of May and spent the weekend at his friend’s house, where I stayed with him. We didn't even wait until I got in the house before we were undressing each other, spent 4 fantastic days together . . . and I haven't heard from him since. How can two people be that sexually compatible, enjoy doing the same things together (I understand and find his quirkiness endearing) and still not connect? We want the same things in life, he tells me he wants me to go to Jamaica with him at the end of the summer, and yet he has not called me yet. Oh yeah, I believe his marriage has been over for 3 years but they are still living in the same big house because the market tanked and it hasn't sold yet., so the divorce is not final. Info I did not know when I met him and I don't believe he knows I know. I don’t even mind that . . . but no call?

Am I just incredibly oblivious to the fact that 'he's just not that into me' or do guys actually get scared because they found the right one but cannot have any relationship with because 1) they are married still, and 2) they live 13 hours away in another state? Now I wish I had never got myself involved and hurt. Tell me something that makes sense. – Laid and Confused

Part of the problem is the extent to which women conflate sex and love. Both are powerful, passionate emotions, but they're also very subtle, apt to fluctuate, and don't necessarily resonate the same way with men and women. For the guy in question, this was clearly about sex, not a relationship. Unless there's mega-clicking from the outset, it's difficult for a man to connect to a woman emotionally -- until he has sex with her. Then he weighs that experience against where he is in his life, and sees if the event was significant enough to make the investment in a relationship.

For most men, they can't even get that far without having sex. In the old days, courtship would allow that investment to be made within a rigorous architecture that allowed for that investment to be made a little at a time -- but it took forever, and often led to bitter feelings that could undermine the entire relationship (consider: in 1930, you're a man courting a woman for weeks before you even get to steal a kiss -- and that gets expensive. If she makes you wait until marriage, like you're supposed to, then you might wake up the day after your wedding and realize that you married a complete sexual dud -- but in 1930 there's a strict "no returns" policy. Bitterness and unhappiness ensue).

Our modern electronic courtship cuts out a lot of that time, but at the expense of the woman's ability to warm up slowly and build up enthusiasm for the event. Women are quicker to make an emotional investment in a relationship than a man, and traditionally the act of sexual union has been the ultimate investment. Since most on-line hook-ups are fueled by intrigue, excitement over something new, the potential of a new relationship, and plain ol' good-fashioned horniness, instead of a gradual, highly-regulated build-up like in olden days, the result is a lot of women getting their "hearts broken" in e-relationships that go physical instantly.

That's not to say that you should try to overcome your natural desire to parlay sexual intimacy into emotional intimacy, but be advised that going into an on-line hook-up with high expectations will undoubtedly lead to bitter disappointments. I know for a fact that casual sex can blossom into perfect, wonderful life-long romantic relationships -- I met my wife drunk and on the rebound in a bar, and our entire family is the result of a one-night-stand gone horribly -- but happily -- awry -- but those instances tend to be spontaneous and rare. Compounded with the natural advantage that men have over women when it comes to suppressing and compartmentalizing our emotions (often to the point of dangerous emotional constipation), the e-dating scene can seem bitterly unfair to women who go there.

And there is the issue of just what your expectations are in the first place: did you intend to just get your ashes hauled, or were you husband-hunting, or maybe somewhere in between? Making that decision and having the emotional discipline to stick to it is key to surviving the process. Of course you want plenty of flexibility to change your expectations if there's real spark and sizzle -- but be aware that a lot of the good "spark and sizzle" you feel with a guy is often the best part of him. The guys who rely heavily on "spark and sizzle" generally (but not always) end up having little else to invest in. Just as drop-dead gorgeous women, as a rule, are far more trouble for the average guy than he suspects.

My advice? He's obviously on his own journey, and you got a couple of good humpity days out of it. Keep channels open in case you want a rematch, but move on. Anyone living with his ex-wife is going to be damaged anyway, and you can likely find better lovers out there -- if you keep looking.

Hope that helps!

Ian Ironwood

Blatant Author's Plug: Erotic Steampunk Novel

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Welcome!

Hi, I’m Ian Ironwood, professional writer, author, and all-around Sex Nerd.

What is a sex nerd? Well, there are many kinds of nerds in the world. Where once it was only proper to label a certain type of person a ‘nerd’, with devastating social consequences, in the 21st century the term has come to denote anyone with an obsessive fascination with a particular topic. You can be a nerd about anything, from insurance to science to pop culture.

Me, I’m a Sex Nerd. Actually, I’m THE Sex Nerd.

All things sexual fascinate me, and I’m lucky enough to have a gig that allows me to indulge my interest. I write reviews of porn movies for a couple of places, do a few sex advice columns, and have even penned a book, The Gentleman’s Guide To Picking Up Women, for Adam & Eve.

Now I want to share my nerdy largesse with the world in a more personal and regular way, so I’m starting this blog to discuss the sexually nerdy in life. Thanks for dropping by, and hopefully you’ll be entertained and informed. If not, enjoy your porn.

Ian