I wasn't surprised when Katie Roiphe wrote in the New York Times book review that these days, male writers tend to craft sex scenes that are a bit, well, flaccid
If these guys grew up watching the same movies as I did, it's no wonder that they are totally confused.
The past two decades have been all about the rise of the sensitive man, and the metrosexual. On the other hand, men are told that they have to win at all costs.
Focusing on writers like David Foster Wallace, Dave Eggers, Michael Chabon, and Jonathan Franzen, she Roiphe writes that "The current sexual style is more childlike; innocence is more fashionable than virility, the cuddle preferable to sex.’
While I enjoy the male writers she mentioned, their descriptions of lovemaking leave me cold. After reading them, I’m left wondering if these guys would rather crawl back inside their mother's nether regions than get inside mine.
I think that the era of the ‘sensitive’ guy officially began around 1989, when women everywhere fell in love with John Cusack’s trench coat-wearing anti-hero Lloyd Dobler from Say Anything
. He was every girl’s best friend, he wrote love letters, and when he finally got the girl into bed, he shook with happiness.
So pervasive was ‘the Dobler effect’ that Chuck Klosterman blamed John Cusack for a generation of male angst when he wrote in Sex, Drugs and Cocoa Puffs
that ‘every straight girl I know would sell her soul to share a milkshake with that motherf**ker.’
We were supposed to idolise him. But I always rooted for the bad boys in movies. I hung out with guys like Lloyd at school, but after dark it was another story.
I watched Mickey Rourke drag Kim Basinger through a back alley in 9 ½ Weeks
late night, and rooted for Amanda Bearse to drop the geeky teen boyfriend and jump on Chris Sarandon as a sexy older vampire in Fright Night
These men weren’t awkward or uncertain. They knew what they wanted, and they took it. ( Collapse )