Why Is Sex Valuable?

I’ve been working on a book on sexual ethics, and along the way I’ve been thinking about the question why sex is valuable, that is, why sex is something worth valuing. It’s not an uncommon view that sex is of limited value: It feels good, and pleasure is certainly good, but that’s about it; sex is not something that should really be central to people’s lives; it’s a mistake to make it so. I disagree. I wouldn’t argue that anyone has to care about sex, any more than anyone has to care about music, or architecture, or travel. But I do think that there is a way of approaching sex that shows that it can be worth valuing in the same way that one might value music or travel. I have always thought there was something not quite right about simply describing some people as `having a high sex drive’, and this is in part an initial attempt to explain why. Having a strong interest in sex is not the same as `having a high sex drive’ any more than having a strong interest in theatre is `having a strong theatre drive’.

What I want to suggest is that sex is like food. The idea isn’t entirely mine. Many people have compared sexual desire to hunger. But I think the analogy goes deeper.

How is sex like food? Food, of course, is in the first instance a biological necessity: We need it to survive. Everyone feels hunger; everyone eats. And there is a place for a purely biological perspective on food. But we obviously shouldn’t rest with that. Food also has a personal and social significance that vastly outstrips its place in biology. What we might better call `cuisine’ is integral to many cultures: Think of the place of food in Italian or Mexican culture, for example, or the unique cuisine developed by Chinese Americans. There is also the significance, in many cultures, of sharing a meal with someone, and the daily sharing of meals is central to many people’s relationships, whether with family (of origin or chosen), friends, or colleagues. You can’t understand the place of food in human life if you do not take account of its social and cultural importance, all of which is of course entirely contingent. There is no reason we have to ascribe any cultural importance to food, and it has very different significance in different cultures.

For some people, food is little more than a biological necessity. I recall hearing someone describe his attraction to the Golden Corral restaurant as follows: “You gotcher meat; you gotcher potato; what else ya need?” But most of us, at least on occasion, take a different sort of pleasure in food. And, of course, there are `foodies’, who take special pleasure in food.

Sex, too, is in the first instance biological. It is the means through which we continue our species, as it is for other species. And there is, no doubt, a place for a purely biological perspective on sex. But humans are unusual, if not unique: Our desire for sex is not always, or even usually, connected to a desire for reproduction, but often exists when we are positively averse to reproduction. We have become more aware in recent years that not all of us experience sexual desire. But most of us do, and most of us are familiar with the acute `need’ for sex that might be compared to hunger: horniness. But for many and probably most of us, sexual desire often exists even in the absence of such a need.

Then there are the people we might call `sexxies’: like foodies, but replacing food with sex.

What is it to be a sexxie? Being a foodie seems to have several aspects. First and foremost, it involves a kind of curiosity about and interest in food. Foodies seek out new kinds of culinary experiences: new flavors, new dishes, and the like. They try new things not just for the sensual pleasures they might bring but as a way of expanding their own horizons: to taste what they haven’t tasted before, to explore their own responses to new and different foods, and to introduce themselves to the great variety of cuisine in the world. Nor is their interest in food usually confined to eating or cooking: They read about it, think about it, even study it, and share their interest with others. And much of that, of course, happens in the social context described above: the sharing of a meal. It would not be inappropriate, it seems to me, to speak of a kind of `culinary intelligence’ that foodies seek to cultivate, in themselves and in like-minded others, that has a number of different dimensions.

Sexxies are similar. They don’t just `like sex’, as many people like food, but have a curiosity about and interest in sex that is somewhat different from the norm. Sexxies seek out new kinds of sexual experiences: different ways of being stimulated themselves and of stimulating other people. They do this, in part, for the sensual pleasures these new activities might bring: to feel what they have not felt before. But they also do so as a way of exploring their own erotic response to the world: how their body and mind (the most important sexual organ) respond to different sorts of things, be they touches, textures, tastes, smells, or thoughts. In part, that’s a matter of finding out what they like and what they don’t like. But it also involves exploring their own boundaries and limits, or learning to enjoy something they didn’t like at first (much as someone might acquire a taste for a new kind of food).

For sexxies, exploring different ways of `having sex’ is a way of expanding their horizons and satisfying their curiosity: One of the amazing things about sex is that almost any activity can be sexual if it is done in the right sort of spirit. Sexxies don’t just recognize but celebrate this fact, regarding it as revealing the inexhaustible frontiers of human sexuality, which triggers their curiosity and sense of adventure. So it is not surprising that sexxies’ interest in sex is not limited to having sexual experiences: They read about it, think about it, and even study it.

Someone who approaches sex in this spirit is seeking to cultivate a kind of `erotic intelligence’, both in themselves and in like-minded others.

It is not impossible to do this on one’s own, to some extent. But sex, even more so than eating, is most rewarding when done with someone else. In one respect, this is similar to sharing a meal with someone: Many people value the sense of shared experience that sex can make possible. But there is also the special pleasure of facilitating a valuable and even memorable experience for one’s partner (not entirely unlike cooking a great meal). For sexxies, however, this takes on a special importance, since they regard sexual interactions not just as opportunities for mutual pleasure but as times when they can both exercise and grow their erotic intelligence.

The presence of another person, with their own unique erotic persepctive, brings an entirely new dimension to the interaction. Sex, practiced in this way, is not just the meeting of two (or more) independent actors, each seeking to pursue their own ends. It is more like a creative collaboration, like an improvised dance, drawing upon each person’s own knowledge and desires, but ultimately a product of how those interact in real time, as in a jam session. Their initiatives, suggestions, and responses are like the other side of a great conversation: not something I must navigate as I pursue my own ends, but something that I value because they express their perspective, and I value them as the unique individual they are. I welcome, encourage, and even cherish their contributions to our shared activity because of what they add to my own limited perspective, and because of how it will help me to grow; and I offer my own contributions in a similar spirit. I am open to them, and they to me, as we cultivate the atmosphere of trust and safety that is required for us to share such intimate aspects of our selves in the way that is required if we’re to exercise and grow our erotic capacities together.

I do not say that this is what sex always ought to be. I do say that it is what sex can be.

(I am particularly indebted here both to my collaborator, for the book, Rachel Leadon; to the writings of Gayle Rubin, especially her groundbreaking paper “Thinking Sex”, and of Thomas Macaulay Millar, especially his paper “Towards a Performance Model of Sex”; and to Karen B.C Chan’s video “Jam”, which develops some of Millar’s ideas.)