The Gap Left by Romance Novels and Purity Culture
I’m sitting on a subway, trying to get home after a frigid day in the city, and I’m holding back tears. Why? Because of a dumb book. Actually, it’s fine. It’s simple and easy and I think the author gave away the big reveal much too early, but I’m still going to read the rest of it. What brought me to tears was the romance.
Listen, romance is a lot of things. It’s good and bad. It’s a shock and a sigh. It’s grand gestures and overpriced meals. Small kisses, flowers and quietly reading together in a coffee shop. Romance is also annoying at times, and bitter at times, and selfish at (a lot of) times. We all know this. But what almost brought me to tears on the subway was this main character’s first kiss with the perfectly written male character (a character only a female could write), after he baked her a lemon pie (from scratch mind you) and they shared a glass of wine.
Tell me, has anyone ever had a moment over a freshly baked pie and glass of wine and been able to write in vivid details the way his teeth gently bite your lower lip and how his hands run through your hair? I’m not saying that it can’t feel like that, but I’ve read enough books (too many?) and I know those are not the thoughts running through my head when making out. In my few first time make-out experiences, I’m thinking of where my tongue is and probably trying to suck in my stomach and honestly wondering how he thinks I’m doing. So, am I just doing romance wrong?
Romance novels start with a woman going out for a night with girlfriends where she meets the guy of her dreams. Or, if that’s not her thing, he’ll be at the next table over in the library while she pulls an all-nighter. It could be that she’s not even attracted to him at all, thinking he is the worst human being on the planet. But his stupid charm and an incredible amount of chance interactions will win her over in the end. Oh, there might be a big break up scene with an even bigger make up scene, but you know they will be together forever. And that’s where the story will end. Which is probably for the best, because stories that go into details about days of going to work, taking care of kids, figuring out dinner, and going to bed would be depressing. But isn’t that where romance and life leads?
My now husband and I dated for 5 years and have, at the time of writing, been married almost a year. Our love story was beautiful and broken and not easy like all the stories I read. It started off in a perfect ‘meet cute’ way (we met at an airport), and we flirted non-stop with a sort of unofficial secretiveness to it that made it even hotter. We finally admitted to the world, and each other, that we wanted more. As the “honeymoon phase” wore off, it started to be work. Did you know love and marriage is work? Of course we all know that marriage is work. But I was actually confused to find that, after a while, my husband-then-boyfriend did not want to constantly rip my clothes off at all times. Granted, we were both older than 21, but still. Isn’t a man supposed to be attracted to his girl even when she is in sweatpants, on the couch, feeling bloated, and eating Ben and Jerry’s out of her Stanley? Is there more that I, as a woman, needed to do? Romance novels told me that I could simply dress up (read: boobs) to find a guy. He’d play his part, saying lines that are super cheesy but actually so romantic. I’d be swept off my feet and if there’s a “spark” (read: sex), I’d have a boyfriend. Now the hard part is done and I can look forward to endless sweet talking and sex.
Pause. Stop freaking out and saying that my husband is mistreating me, or that women should be able to dress however they want without unwanted male attention, or that a guy should still want his significant other even when she is eating a gallon of cappuccino chunky chocolate (the first and second are both false and the third can be contested on occasion). I’m just trying to figure out what I missed. Surely I read enough of exactly how romance was supposed to play out, right? All the stories end with “happily ever after.” And what makes up that pesky ‘after’ if not for desire and sex?
Purity culture
I grew up smack dab in the middle of the Bible Belt, experiencing those rougher years of adolescents in the early 2000s. So, of course I made my parents take me to Mardel’s to get my very own “True Love Waits” ring. And when the Jonas Brothers came out wearing their rings, I felt validated. I wouldn’t have known to call it purity culture at the time, but I can tell you what I learned about purity: Sex is putting a penis in a vagina. Don’t have sex before marriage. After marriage, you can have sex and it will be great. The end.
Okay, it wasn’t exactly as simple as that. But it also kinda was. Sex (and all its complexities) was kept out of focus for me. Sex was only the p in the v, plus some kissing. I knew that couples did it and I knew it was fun and enjoyable based on the movies and books I read. Romance novels taught me how to be flirtatious and adorable, focusing simply on the thrill of finding someone you click with. Once you had that, all the other, complicated stuff would figure itself out. Purity culture reinforced that. I was told if I held off on sex until marriage and instead focused on finding the someone I enjoyed spending time with, I’d find the best of both worlds. But separating the “romance” from sex leaves a gap that isn’t easily fixed.
The intricacies of emotions regarding sex were obtuse to me growing up in purity culture. I remember judging girls who got pregnant in high school, thinking how stupid could they be? It’s not like it’s hard to not get pregnant (note: I didn’t have a serious boyfriend until college and boy was that a wake up call). I was a good girl who dressed modestly, didn’t touch boys (or myself), and avoided all thoughts of sexual desires because it was simply ‘impure.’ Now, as a married woman, I find that I struggle with sex. Don’t get me wrong, I immensely enjoy spending that time with my husband. What I struggle with is what it means to be sensual and romantic in sex. I seem to have no knowledge of how to entice my husband, other than to try to put on a little something and let the evening do what it may. How did I arrive at this point with such little knowledge?
There are so many books and articles about how to have better sex, how to give your partner what they need, and so on. I’ve done some searching, and while many are from a cultural perspective, there are quite a few written with a biblical viewpoint in mind. Why are these not discussed widely within the church? I could have certainly benefited. I’ve read some horror stories of women who experienced purity culture and felt ashamed of their bodies, even in marriage. While I never questioned my sexuality or felt any insecurity in my body (beside the normal puberty struggles and the longing for a flat stomach), purity culture left me with a lack of understanding the delicacies of sensuality and romance.
Purity does not mean innocence.
Listen, I don’t have a problem with encouraging young people to wait for sex until marriage. The way culture treats sex now is as though it has no lasting effect in romance, and that couldn’t be farther from the truth. Sex is a gift. You are giving a part of yourself away and you are expecting the same in return (it doesn’t matter how “good” you are at being detached from your emotion). What purity culture should have been teaching young men and women was how to prepare for a relationship instead of just keeping body parts a part. How can we be stewards of our bodies for our future spouse? What does it mean to be sexual and enticing? Instead of purity meaning to shut off all desires and feelings, never to be discussed until marriage, wouldn’t it be better to explain how these needs can be fulfilled?
One definition of purity is ‘the freedom of contamination.’ And let’s be honest, you can’t grow up in this culture without being contaminated. Looking back, I hate that I looked at those perfectly written romances in novels as though they were examples of real life and relationships. These books made me so excited to find the one because it seemed like all the ‘after’ stuff would be simple. And while romance novels can be sweet and fun and exciting to read, it leaves a large hole that needs to be filled with something. I believe that something is purity, but a more complete kind. A purity which delights in the beauty of sexuality and desires, instead of shaming and smothering it.
