Casualties of Score
I’ve read a lot of books lately (and been guilty of it myself a couple of times) wherein the main male character is described as having had a lot of sexual partners, but no one that he was really committed to being with exclusively. While I understand this from the point of view that it makes his relationship with the heroine special and different from anything in his frame of reference, I sometimes wonder why this is considered such a compelling feature for a man to have.
Certainly we all want a man who knows his way around in the bedroom and realistically, hands on practice is the best way to get that, but this idea of a Casanova who is quick to love and leave any woman who knows the score is actually far more prevalent in pop culture than it is in real life.
How do I know? Science-type people told me! Research psychologist Andrew P. Smiler recently wrote a book called “Challenging Casanova: Beyond the Stereotype of the Promiscuous Young Male” and debunked the myth of men only in it for a quick lay.
He says that research shows that “about 15 percent of guys have three or more partners in any given 12-month span…So there are definitely some guys out there who are doing it–but it’s really a small percentage of guys.” Three partners a year seems pretty low, since in television, books and movies portray these characters as leaving piles of scorned women in the wakes. Not to mention the media hand-wringing and rending of garments regarding the “youth hook-up culture”.
But if only 15% of men are acting this way, why are so many of the men portrayed in fiction (whether on-or-off-screen) the promiscuous type?
Intellect tells me it’s for the same reason that these same fictional characters are always tall, strong, and well-endowed. No one wants to fantasize about average. And yet, I’ve read plenty of books where the heroine is a virgin. In fact, several authors seem to only write books where the woman is a virgin and the hero has plenty of experience. Even in stories where both characters have experience, the writer always seems quick to point out that the man has more (pointing finger at myself as well). Why are we compelled to do this? Is there some unwritten rule that even though it’s permissible (in some circles) for a woman to have sex outside of wedlock it’s important that she have fewer past partners than the man she finds her Happily Ever After with?
I don’t have the answers, but I think it’s a compelling question. And something I’ll consider as I start work on my next book. Until then, I’m going to stay alert for the 15% and try not to become another casualty of score. (Get it? Ha, ha!)
Original Article Here.
