sexuality. So getting an asexual person’s view on sex, and/or trying to see sex from an asexual perspective, allows us to see sex in a new way.

In chapter 8, I show that adopting this distant view of sex offers us some intriguing insights into the nature of human sexuality. One of these insights is that sex is odd, if not downright bizarre. For example, when we deconstruct the sex act—certainly easier to do if one is asexual—its components can be perceived as “symptoms” suitable to a diagnosis of a mental disorder: obsessive thoughts, odd vocalizations, repetitive movements, and so forth. This illustration may strike you as a bit strained (albeit perhaps amusing), but I expect that with some thought, the main point of this deconstruction of sex is understood. Also, even if not convinced by this illustration, other evidence exists, as shown in chapter 8, that sexuality is often linked to strange and even pathological behaviors. So, despite sex being the “great story of life,” it is also sometimes tenuously linked to mental health, broadly defined. These connections certainly make me wonder about what is a disorder, sexual and otherwise, and whether, for example, asexuality should be construed as one (Bogaert, 2006b; Bogaert, 2008) (see also chapter 9). In any event, I think the odd world of sex is worth exploring, especially as viewed from the distance of an asexual person.

A distant view of sex offered up by asexuality also shows how pervasive sexuality is in our own and many other cultures and how very profoundly it affects people’s lives. (Ironically, perhaps some critics of human sexuality research need to take a true asexual’s view of sexuality to see how important sex is in its effects on people and society!) For example, in chapter 11, I show how sexuality pervades the media, including art, and speculate on what the history of art, and aesthetics generally, would be like without sex. Similarly, in chapter 12, I discuss humor, this strange and wonderful faculty of the human psyche; I review why so much humor is sexually oriented and what humor would be like if it was completely devoid of sex. I also ponder the degree to which asexual people “get” sexual humor. Again, the asexual view on these issues leads to important insights into sex and human nature generally, and thus adopting an “asexual” lens affords a view we shouldn’t miss. So stick around: I expect the ride will be an interesting one.

CHAPTER 2

The A, B, C, and Ds of Sex (and Asex)

In this second chapter, I examine some of the fundamental psychological processes of sexuality as they relate to both sexual and asexual people. These processes are rather conveniently summarized by the letters A, B, C, and D. There are two words for A: attraction and arousal. There is one B: behavior. C refers to cognition, a fancy word for our thoughts. And the fourth is D: desire. Focusing on these processes will allow us to deconstruct or break down and examine some of the key components of sexuality; this approach will also allow us to consider definitions of asexuality.

Let’s begin with attraction. It refers to that rather basic, even primal, lure that draws us to someone or something. Of course, in a general (nonsexual) sense, we can be “attracted” to nearly anything—for some reason, French fries come to mind—but, for our purposes, let us keep our discussion of attraction relevant to the domains of love and sex. But here, too, we need to make a distinction between romantic and sexual attraction. Psychologist Lisa Diamond (2003b) describes romantic love as the “feelings of infatuation and emotional attachment” associated with pair bonding. This type of attraction, then, refers to the “love” attraction we have for others, and the people we find “attractive” (our objects of desire) are those with whom we may fall in love. This kind of attraction is often the stuff of drama, as many of the most powerful and enduring stories give us a heavy dose of love attraction between partners.

In contrast, sexual attraction refers to the “sexual” or lust lure for others. It also might be termed one’s “sexual orientation.” Sex researchers, particularly those with a psychological bent, believe that sexual attraction to others is the sine qua non of sexual orientation. So, for example, if you are a woman and primarily lust after—in other words, are turned on by being with, looking at, thinking about, or fantasizing about— men, then you have a heterosexual sexual orientation. Thus, you are sexually attracted to, or have sexual orientation toward, men.

The distinction between romantic and sexual attraction extends even further. As introduced in chapter 1, some biologists and social scientists have suggested that romantic and sexual processes are potentially independent, governed by different brain systems, and evolved from different processes (Diamond, 2003b; Fisher, 2004). Key aspects of romantic functioning (e.g., affectional bonding) may have evolved relatively recently in our evolutionary history from the attachment system (Hazan & Shaver, 1987), whereas sexual desire/attraction processes may have evolved from very basic mating and sexual attraction systems. The basic mating system is much older, evolutionarily (or phylogenetically) speaking, than the attachment system. Reptilian brains are, after all, geared for sex, not for love.[3]

There is a relatively famous Seinfeld episode—and aren’t almost all of the episodes famous now?—in which the main character, Jerry, develops a romantic, but not a sexual, crush on a major league baseball player he meets (Keith Hernandez). The humor of the episode emerges from the fact that Jerry begins to behave toward Keith as he might toward a female romantic partner (e.g., infatuation, jealousy, feeling spurned). The episode illustrates how humans have the capacity to decouple romantic from sexual attraction. It also illustrates that one’s romantic inclination (e.g., to a man) may, in fact, be in contrast to one’s typical sexual orientation (e.g., to women).

This distinction between romantic and sexual attraction may seem clear, but the two kinds of attraction are, as most people realize, also intricately related, and they often overlap. After all—Jerry’s romantic fling with Keith Hernandez notwithstanding—one’s romantic attractions (e.g., to men) are usually the same as one’s sexual attractions (e.g., to men). So, if I lust after Bob, I very well may also have romantic feelings for him; indeed, I may even love him. This is partly because these two attraction processes influence one another, so a sexual infatuation may ultimately turn into a romantic bond lasting a lifetime, and a romantic bond may lead to sexual attraction. Lisa Diamond (2003b) suggests that this latter sequence—love followed by lust—is more likely to occur in women than in men.

You may be thinking, The complex relationship between romantic and sexual attraction is interesting, but what does it have to do with asexuality? Well, nearly everything, actually. One of the main definitions of asexuality is a lack of sexual attraction. In the first study examining asexuality in a large national sample, which I conducted in 2004, asexuality was defined as never having felt sexual attraction to men, women, or both (Bogaert, 2004; Bogaert, 2006b). AVEN (Asexuality Visibility and Education Network), the largest website devoted to asexual issues, also defines asexuality as a lack of sexual attraction. So, many asexual people have no sexual attraction to others, meaning that there is no “lust lure” for others.[4]

Does this mean that asexual people are not romantically attracted to others? The answer to this question —“not necessarily”—should be clear, given our discussion of the distinction between romantic and sexual attraction, and the fact that they can be decoupled. As mentioned in chapter 1, a lack of sexual attraction is not the same as a lack of romantic attraction, and asexual is not synonymous with aromantic. Some asexual people demonstrate that you can have one without the other. So, if one defines asexuality as a lack of sexual attraction to others, one should also be aware that it is not necessarily defined as a lack of romantic attraction to others. As also mentioned in the opening chapter, asexuality allows us to understand sexuality, and the distinction between romantic and sexual attraction is a good example of this. Sex and romance are often linked, but not inextricably so.

I often get media requests a few weeks before Valentine’s Day to discuss sexuality research. A discussion of human sexuality makes for an interesting news story, generally speaking, but it is pure gold on February 14. In early February 2010, I had a slew of reporters asking about the distinction between romantic and sexual attraction, and how it relates to asexuality. Can there be love without sex? And vice versa? For some reason, that year the media requests were all from Spanish-speaking countries—Spain, naturally, and a number from South America. I did one

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