A Defense of Casual Sex

Which is not the same as a hookup

Gabby AI, because Copilot is a prude

A single mom I know serially dates dangerous men. She finds each good-looking candidate at a dance club or on a dating site, and immediately invites him to her house for naked cuddling or some similar risqué activity. Once he passes the test of bypassing a prime opportunity to rape or murder her, she falls instantly and passionately in love and embarks upon a whirlwind emotional and sexual relationship. A year or two in, he cheats on her, or punches her, and the cycle restarts.

Why not date men you meet at work? you might ask her. Or among the parents or faculty at your kid’s school? Or at that liberal Unitarian church service you attend? Why not arrange a more chaste first date? Might you screen candidates for common interests and values before falling into bed? Maybe even wait a month or two for sex?

The answer to each of these questions is the same: romance. For this woman—let’s call her Rhonda—lust is a sign that she’s found the one. A latte with some schmuck sporting a dad bod can’t inspire visions of ballroom dancing, champagne in Paris, chocolate fountains and that two-tone princess cut diamond ring. Asking questions betrays a lack of faith in love. Waiting runs counter to the fairy tale. Vetting is a buzzkill.

While Rhonda’s driving in the fast lane, she isn’t having casual sex—at least not if she can help it. She’s all in, every time. It’s the romance, not the fornication, that’s doing her in.

A young person in my extended family—let’s call her Lacey—had her first baby at the age of 19. The father was an unemployed teenager with a criminal record. At one point, he made enough of a nuisance of himself to warrant a restraining order. But later, Lacey dated him again—or more precisely, resumed sleeping with him. She vowed periodically to her appalled Christian mother that she was done with him—but she kept going back. Though he openly refused to pay child support, she had a second child by him, and then a third.

Clearly, Lacey wanted to sleep with this dude, however mysterious his magnetism to her mom (and the rest of us). That he was a terrible person and a worse father was not enough to tame her libido. If Lacey had admitted that to herself, might she have put things in perspective? She could have exorcized those demons, intentionally and perhaps infrequently, with birth control firmly on board. She says she can’t find someone decent to date, now. She’s right; as a twenty-something single mom with three impoverished children and a crazy ex, she’s foreclosed opportunities to bond with better men.

In my opinion, both Rhonda and Lacey are victims of female socialization. They operate under a number of comforting myths about female sexuality: Women don’t get horny—especially outside the context of love. We can’t carry or use birth control, lest we admit to the possibility of making poor choices. Real love means being swept off our feet; it’s magical and mysterious. When we have less than meaningful sex, we need to make it meaningful... somehow. We need to generate love to prove we weren’t just whoring around.

It is my belief, in fact, that most women’s sexual decisions are undermined by socialization, shame, trauma, learned helplessness, and other inappropriate factors, to the detriment of their future as well as to their pleasure.

Controversial opinion, apparently: unless you’re intentionally making a baby with an established partner, you’re in it for pleasure. So why not admit that? Why turn every fling into a dysfunctional relationship? Why have children with a man just because he turned your head? And why, in heavens name, put up with someone who isn’t even invested in making you orgasm?

How do I know that’s happening?

• This video.

• The number of women who tell me that vetting sex partners for sexual compatibility is too embarrassing. If you aren’t comfortable enough with someone to talk about sex with them, you definitely shouldn’t be having it with them.

• The number of women who tell me they’ve given a date a blow job to get rid of him.

• The new spate of rants critiquing feminism on the grounds that the sex presumed to accompany it is degrading for women. As if “feminist” sex is letting a string of inconsiderate assholes use and abuse you, instead of the exact opposite.

Almost every older lesbian I know speaks of a promiscuous period in her twenties, and she seldom relays it with regret. What makes lesbians’ stories so different from those of straight women who’ve played the field? Orgasms. Rubbing up against a reluctant partner for five minutes doesn’t spell release for a woman, like it can for a man, so lesbian sex is necessarily reciprocal. For all the talk of women being harmed by casual sex, lesbians seem pretty unscathed. Perhaps sex outside marriage isn’t the problem. Perhaps the problem is sex without trust, without communication, without mutual respect, without pleasure.

This can all be arranged outside a long-term, monogamous relationship. And often, doing so is completely appropriate.

Sexual maturity develops a decade or two before those factors that facilitate a happy, committed union: emotional maturity, financial stability, and even access to the right prospects. Lacey lives in a small, rural area; I believe suitable life partners just aren’t available there. She’d be in so much better shape if she’d managed her need for companionship long enough to go to college, get a job, or travel outside her hometown.

Marriage and children aren’t the be-all, end-all for women, and should not be embarked upon before self-sufficiency (if at all). Women without financial independence, marketable skills, or even the self-assurance to assert their boundaries should take a step back before undertaking lifelong commitments. Sometimes that means a sex life that looks different from Cinderella’s.

There’s a grown-up way to do sex. Rushing love or parenthood or marriage to avoid shame is no more mature than cruising nightclubs for one-night stands. Mature sex means finding a partner (or two) who can have a frank conversation, who aligns on expectations, who will use birth control. Someone who is fond of you, and playful, and fun, and who cares about your pleasure. Someone with whom you’ll share memories instead of regrets.