Other Weekly Geeks

Does sex in literature kill the romance?

I’m not a prude. I have no objection to reading about sex, but for some reason any description of sex in literature kills the romance for me. In fact the most romantic books are those in which the couple aren’t even together, but separated by a war or other uncontrollable event. That feeling of longing is so romantic and beats most occasions when the couple is actually together. There are also couples who don’t miss each other for a very long time apart, but get creative like using tails or sex toys when finally making love.

The most romantic book I’ve ever read is The Time Traveler’s Wife the couple’s love for each other heightened by Henry’s continual time travelling. There is so much truth in the old saying “Absence makes the heart grow fonder”.

I think the best sex scenes are those in which the bedroom door is firmly closed to us. Knowing what our favourite characters get up to ruins their magic for me – I’d much prefer to leave all the sex scenes up to the imagination. Sex isn’t a subject that we normally discuss, so what one couple finds normal, another will find very strange. I don’t want to feel weird because I know too much about a couple, however fictional. I want to feel their love through knowing glances and a shared happiness.

Edited to add:

I’ve just been reading a beautifully romantic scene in the otherwise wonderful Cutting for Stone and thought it was an excellent example of sex ruining everything:

Without removing myself from within her, I rolled onto my back, holding her, flipping her, and setting her on top of me, her breasts hovering over me.
“You need to pee? Go ahead,” I said, my breath coming quick.
“You’ve done that before, too.”
I grabbed her shoulders and pulled her  to me hard. I smelled her fever, and the scent of blood and sex and urine. I came again.

Do you think that sex in literature kills the romance?

Which is the most romantic book you’ve read?

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