Sex sells
Ah, the “S” word. Never has a topic been so complicated and taboo. Anyone can talk politics or religion, but mention sex and things get awkward very quickly. Sex isn't really something that enters into everyday conversation, and understandably so. It is intimate and private, and is deeply attached to what makes us human.
We are all wired for human connection. Physical touch is one of the five love languages and is considered an integral part of many relationships. Yet for all the intimacy and privacy that sex implies, it is ironic how we see it everywhere.
The notion of sex as a selling point is still consumerism's most prevalent advertising tactic. From music, fashion, art and literature, the media is inundated with anything that has to do with the horizontal tango. It has, however, proven itself to be an effective marketing scheme — Fifty Shades of Grey was the bestselling book of this past decade. Even Game of Thrones has cemented its place as one of the defining pop culture icons in the millennial generation for its graphic sex scenes. While I never picked up Fifty Shades of Grey (or delved into George R.R. Martin's magnum opus), I fell for this strategy, too, because I was once upon a time taken by Love Island.
The premise didn’t seem too bad from the outset: a bunch of scantily-clad twentysomething individuals prancing about the Mediterranean, vying for love and half a million pounds. They were also cooped up in a villa for weeks, as many reality television shows were wont to do. The elimination system was determined through a "recoupling," where the person left single at the end of the week was sent packing.
All in all, the concept seemed very creative and interesting. I was hooked, much like the thousands of people at home who tuned in every week to watch their favourite islanders' romantic escapades.
And then the doubts started. There was no denying that though Love Island focused on relationships, sex made up a large part of the show's marketability. Challenges involved contestants eating food off each other and demonstrating the different ways to get it on. One of the rewards for completing a successful date was a chance to spend a steamy night under the sheets in a secret bedroom known as The Hideaway. There was also the subtle objectification of people on the show. The way that newcomers were referred to as "prospects" or "fresh meat" seemed to suggest that they were somehow disposable and existed only for another's pleasure and convenience. It's no surprise that Love Island can and has been considered psychologically damaging.
Ratings have since gone down, but audiences continue their patronage of the show despite its flaws. This phenomenon is not new. Sex continues to be a marketing medium, never mind the negative connotations it poses regarding body issues, self-esteem and healthy sexuality.
Does sex sell because the media has captured our need for physical intimacy?
Is it because of our familiarity with physical touch as a tangible, outward expression of human love that sexual media remains to be attractive? Or have we become so starved of intimacy and connection that we tend to latch on to viable alternatives?
I can only begin to wonder.
