All about the ’nacle and General Conference are stories and opinions and exhortations re pr0n, both pro and con and undecided. Recently, Letters From A Broad had a lively discussion concerning the feminist take on pr0n, which ranges as wide a gamut as the opinions amongst the various factions of LDSdom. However varied the opinions, all seem to agree that the overriding purpose of pr0n is to arouse.

Nowhere, however, have I seen a discussion of genre romance, erotic fiction, or erotica as agents provocateur of arousal. This is most likely because I’m the new kid on the ’nacle block and have just missed it, but even in the lengthy discussions of sex, masturbation, pr0n, and various and sundry other sub-topics of sex, I’ve not seen it mentioned. ’Tis a puzzlement.

Amongst other things, I write genre romance with an edge. The edge isn’t sex; the edge is previously unexplored themes in genre romance like, oh, the juxtaposition of spirituality and sexuality while still heavy on external conflict. This earns no brownie points with agents and acquisitions editors. (The cry, “But we don’t know where to shelve it!” is still ringing in my head, even after a year.)

I don’t write erotic fiction, which is different from romance in that its sole purpose is to arouse yet has emotional content, but very little plot and more often than not, I’ll choose a story that promises a weighty external conflict. It is also different from erotica in that the sex in erotic fiction serves a purpose within the story but isn’t the story. I do occasionally write straight erotica in small doses, but, quite frankly, disemboweled sex (i.e., without an emotional connection) doesn’t really do anything for me. Kinda like looking at pictures of nekkid peoples doesn’t really turn me on although I’m a visual learner.

While my husband teases me about my pr0n, I don’t really know how to draw any lines between genre romance where the sexual content is anything from kiss-and-fade-to-black to take-a-cold-shower-graphic, erotic fiction, and erotica—because it’s all meant to arouse. It may arouse me more easily simply because I’m 40 and therefore have the libido of a 17-year-old boy, but with regard to romance and some erotic fiction (occasionally dubbed Romantica™), the aim is to arouse through the conduit of emotional connection and love.

Regardless my comments on Stephenie Meyer’s Twilight here and elsewhere, it’s an erotic tale. All the subtext is there, naturally, but without having to read in between any lines whatsoever, the scenes between Edward and Bella wherein he doesn’t kiss her, but sniffs at her neck, are hawt. It’s all in the execution. Eugene Woodbury’s upcoming novel, Angel Falling Softly had me catching my breath in a few places, too, though his sex scenes are simply elegant.

It did occur to me that perhaps the written word not otherwise slapped with the label “Penthouse Forum” is seen as literature, which is an art form. I mean, do you read a 350-plus-page novel for the sex? I think not. You read it for the story; it just takes too much work and a rather lot of brainpower to read one of these things and doing it for the sex is counterproductive. There is effort involved, the reader’s effort, the contract between author and reader—

—but it’s arousing and that’s one of its purposes.

So by that definition and within the context of the never-ending exhortations by Teh Brethren to avoid that which arouses the natural man, is it pr0n?

Discuss.

Therapist [split screen]: Do you have sex often?
Woody Allen: [lamenting] Hardly ever. Maybe three times a week.
Diane Keaton: [annoyed] Constantly. I’d say three times a week.

-From “Annie Hall”

According to some statistics, married couples have sex an average of 98 times per year (just less than twice a week). Overall, Americans have sex 132 per year, with cohabitating couples having the most sex and singles having the least. (Also, 45% of respondents have had a one-night stand, while 48% of the women surveyed admit to faking orgasms.)

Casual, anecdotal evidence and talks with friends suggests that in some relationships, this becomes a very big deal. What’s the right frequency for sex? To what extent does this differ across gender lines? Do you wish you had sex more often? Less often?

To what extent do libido/frequency issues play a role in your relationship? How do you discuss or resolve those issues?

My spouse and I complement each other in many ways. Many of our strengths offset each others’ weaknesses. But the one issue that continues to be a problem is that he’s a morning person and I’m a night owl. Which means that if we have sex in the morning, I’m not as into it, or if it’s at night, he’s pretty exhausted. Occasionally we remedy this by a lunchtime tryst, but those opportunities tend to be rare.

So what to do?

There are other times in our marriage where we’ve had mismatched libido or unequal sexual expectations, and those have been frustrating but somewhat shortlived–often resolved with better communication. But the morning/night issue has persisted through the years. Sure, there are times when we try to mesh our schedules more closely together, and there are times when we’ve been so extreme (my going to bed at “night” just as he was getting up in the “morning”) that we’ve found a halfway point. But a part of me still hopes that we’ll find a better solution to our yin/yang schedules.

Any advice?