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Sex

Sex Is Neither Right nor Wrong

When it comes to turn-ons, it’s all about personal preference.

Versta/Shutterstock
Source: Versta/Shutterstock

When it comes to sex, perhaps the only thing everyone can agree on is that people disagree about it.

Opinions abound, because a lot about sex has to do with opinions, preferences, and desires — subjective stuff. Sure, there are some objectively verifiable aspects of sexuality, such as that only about a third of women are able to reliably reach orgasm from intercourse without some additional stimulation. We can run experiments to support or disprove figures like this, but when it comes to one person and what they want their sex life to look like, what turns them on, what turns them off, how often they want to be sexual and with whom and how, the scientific method won’t help us much.

Despite this inherent subjectivity, many people will insist that some kinds of sex are more "right" than others, and that perhaps some are really "wrong," as if there were some objective standard by which to measure various sex acts. Such attempts to impose an objective standard onto something subjective usually mean that people are applying their own preferences and assuming that everyone else feels the same way — or that they should.

This would be like saying that everyone else should also believe that rocky road ice cream is the best flavor, and that people who like strawberry are morally flawed. Of course, you can dress up your argument — for example, by explaining that it’s the counterbalancing of the earthiness of the walnuts against the sweetness of the marshmallows that makes it superior to ice creams with no extra ingredients. Or you could take the opposite argument and claim that ice cream should be enjoyed in its purest form, and that adding anything extra detracts from what really matters most. No matter how well you try to dress up and justify a flawed argument, it’s still flawed.

One of the ways that people strengthen their position is to cite statistics — for example, that 30 percent of people prefer one flavor over the other, or that one flavor is bought twice as often as the other. These statistics might be really helpful if you are the purchasing manager at a supermarket trying to figure out how much of each flavor to order, but they are unlikely to convince someone to switch their own flavor preference. By the same token, it can be interesting to note how many other people engage in the sexual acts that you prefer, but those figures are unlikely to change what you actually enjoy, even if some people may alter how often they engage in that activity if they are made to feel guilty about it. On the flip side, there will be some people who will be reassured that their desires are “normal” (meaning that many other people also engage in them), while there will be other people who get turned on by being part of an edgy minority, so there are even personal preferences when it comes to interpreting statistics.

Statistics can be used in more sophisticated ways, by showing that x percent of the people who engage in a particular sexual activity are y percent more or less likely to experience outcome z. This might be really useful to know if we are planning educational campaigns or public policy to try to change the frequency of certain negative or unhealthy outcomes. But even if this might inform people’s choices about whether or how to engage in that particular sexual act, it still doesn’t offer much comment on whether or not someone should be turned on by that act, how it stacks up against other activities, or whether it is acceptable.

For example, if studies found that people who eat rocky road ice cream were twice as likely to have a heart attack than people who eat strawberry (which is obviously not true), then those folks may want to consider how often or how much they eat, or make a point of eating more vegetables to counterbalance it, but none of this proves that rocky road tastes better. Also, it may be that there is another factor at work here — maybe people who prefer rocky road also tend to be less likely to exercise, and this is really what is driving their increased cardiac risk. If so, changing their ice cream flavor won’t do much to reduce their risk.

This issue of third factors is a big one in sex research. Sex and relationships are so complex, multifactorial, and multi-determined that single variables rarely tell us much of the story. And basing strong arguments on overly simplified readings of complicated data probably misses way too much nuance to be helpful.

Even if we do find some really clear data, that data is often misapplied and used to support a position that it really can’t. For example, we can say that a particular sex act increases the likelihood of sexually transmitted infections. If we want to make an argument against it in order to reduce the prevalence of those infections (or to suggest the importance of safer practices), then that data would be relevant. However, we can’t use that data to support the idea that people shouldn’t enjoy that sex act, or that there is something wrong with them if they do — nor can we use other data to support the idea that there is anything "wrong" with people who don’t. This is a bit of a subtle bait and switch. Part of life involves accepting a certain amount of risk, and we all balance the benefits and risks. For example, we accept the possibility of a car accident every time we get behind the wheel. Hopefully we make smart choices, like wearing a seat belt and not drinking first, to mitigate that risk. In the same way, we accept a certain amount of risk in our sexual practices: We balance the benefits against the potential negative outcomes. One person’s acceptable level of risk is not inherently superior to another’s.

Sometimes people will cite expert sources to bolster their arguments for or against certain sexual practices. These could be religious writings, scientific studies, or just individuals who are really convincing. Unfortunately, these experts are in no better position to comment on what people should or shouldn’t prefer than any of the rest of us are. Even the president of the largest ice cream company in the world can’t tell you which flavor you should like. You can choose to follow what certain people say, if you like, but there is nothing inherently superior about their opinions when it comes to a matter of preference. Consider what the experts say, and think about whether there is something there that resonates for you. Perhaps be willing to be convinced if it is indeed convincing, but don’t let anyone tell you that you should want what you don’t want or not want what you do. When it comes to preferences, everyone will have an opinion, but only you get a vote.

As for whether you choose to act on these preferences, that is a whole other discussion. It may depend on your current sexual partner or other life factors, as I’ve discussed in other blog posts. But that process of deciding what to pursue and what to hold off on tends to work out better if you can accept your desires (and other people’s) without any confusing layers of guilt and shame.

** Author’s note: Given the allegations of sexual misconduct coming out recently, let me be clear that there is nothing in this post to support taking advantage of one’s position of power to push someone to be sexual in ways that they don’t want to be. That isn’t a matter of sexual preferences — it’s an abuse of power. Similarly, any sexual activity that involves participants who don’t give their full consent, or aren’t old enough to give their full consent, is also unethical or possibly illegal.

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