Writer and actor Stephen Fry is in trouble for saying that women aren't as interested in sex as men – but didn't we all know that already, writes EILEEN BATTERSBY
BEFORE A LYNCH party of outraged women – and men – ride off to hang Stephen Fry, writer, wit and now commentator on female sexuality, perhaps we should concede that there is some truth in his remarks.
The controversy arose after an article appeared in a British newspaper, quoting Fry as saying: “I feel sorry for straight men. The only reason women will have sex with them is that sex is the price they are willing to pay for a relationship with a man, which is what they want.”
I don’t think it is exactly earth shattering to discover that women are not as interested in sex as men are. Libraries of scientific data exist confirming exactly that. Men have a much stronger chemical response to sexual stimuli.
But to be basic, well, as basic as the original interview, which was published in Attitude, a gay magazine, there is a simple explanation; women prefer romance. The idea of a romantic encounter, a walk through the woods on a summer's day, the sight of Mr Darcy on a horse, women need to fall in love whereas a man may well do with falling into bed.
For most women, sex is only part of a relationship; for many men, it is central. Women like men with a sense of humour; men like beautiful, unobtainable women. Sympathetic-looking women are rarely used in advertising campaigns; instead models tend to be ultra-cool, sexually intimidating and very tall – too tall, and thin, for most men. Sympathetic-looking men, be they five foot or six foot have no trouble in attracting women.
A dishevelled eccentric man incapable of changing a plug and given to wearing odd socks may appeal to a woman because she wants to mother him and shape him into her ideal man and the father of her future children. On the other hand, that eccentric male’s female physical equivalent — a messy-looking, plaid-shirt clad woman who can service an automobile single- handed in a few hours and then rewire an entire house in an evening is not all that likely to have hordes of male suitors. Her skills will never compensate in the relationship stakes for a lack of physical allure. She is destined to remain every guy’s favourite kid brother. It’s that unfair. Let us not diminish the universal empathy we felt for Bridget Jones, caught between wanton cad and gorgeous nerd.
Women enjoy romance; it is an industry in itself. For women it is more sigh than grapple.
So Stephen Fry, the wonderful voice of all the Harry Potter audio tapes, says straight men feel they “disgust” women. Many women may well fear men, but the word “disgust” is bound to bewilder and provoke men and women. Why did Fry use “disgust” but not the word “romance”?
The 19th century novel resounds with the imbalances in sexual needs dividing men and women. History records that kings and kingdoms pivoted on sex and its logical outcome – heirs, not necessarily romance – as much as Fry suggests women view sex as the price to be paid for a relationship. This notion of barter is not that daring a thesis; woman wakes the morning after a romantic tryst with man and thinks “we’re a couple”. Same man may well wake and wonder (a) “What have I done?” or (b) “What time is the match on at?”
Women prioritise – for all the love of romance, there is the practicality. The laundry waiting to be ironed; a meal to be cooked; children to be collected. Fry’s comments may have been taken out of context, but for general readers, his interview was taken out of context. Do straight men and straight women actively “cruise”? Is not all social interaction between men and women a variation of cruising? Flirtation is enjoyable and uplifting and need not always end in sex. The gay male sexual experience appears heightened because it has to confront taboos.
No heterosexual writer has captured the sheer agony of sexual desire and its attendant loneliness as brilliantly as the US writer Edmund White in novels such as The Farewell Symphony. Fry's comments are shaped not only by his observations of heterosexual relationships but also from his experience of the dynamics of many gay sexual encounters. One of the most affecting ever studies of a woman's capacity to love was written by Pushkin in his characterisation of Tatyana, a young country woman, in Eugene Onegin. She decides she loves the bored Onegin, he rejects her. Years later he meets her after she has become a successful salon hostess. She still loves Onegin but will not leave her husband. How more romantic can you get? Unless you mention the movie Brief Encounter.
Sex as a recreational exercise is more common among men although some women, no doubt far more than Fry imagines, may also view it as casually.
If Stephen Fry were a doctor or a recognised sex expert, or even heterosexual, far fewer would be angered by his comments. But he is a comedian, a wit, an Establishment English man, and an openly gay celebrity who has written about his depression. I interviewed him before the release of Oscar, in which he played Wilde. He is charming, witty, sympathetic, immensely appealing, obviously hugely intellectual, vulnerable, great company and exactly the kind of man most women would love to be the father of their children.
