The philosopher Robert Nozick once noted that sex is not merely a matter of frictional force. There is much more to it than a mere reductionist materialism can explain. This isn’t to deny that sex can and often does (one hopes) involve physical pleasure, but it is to say that sex often involves a distinctly mental aspect. That is, sex is often ‘in our head’. Indeed, once there, sex is often hard to get out, as Damon Young perceptibly notes in the introductory chapter of On Getting Off, when he discusses the onset of adolescent sexuality and the ways in which it can be absolutely consuming. Following philosopher Irving Singer, Young distinguishes between three aspects of sexuality: libido, eros, and romance. Libido is “about getting our rocks off,” and involves “fundamental biological urges, reflexes, and cycles” (5). This is when it most closely approximates pure physical and carnal pleasure. Eros, alternatively, “is the aesthetic joy we take in others,” (6) the curve of someone’s hips, the way in which they walk or bite their lip when thinking. Finally, the “romantic is about recognition: here is another human being, whose existence matters to me, and to whom I matter. It is what I strive for with Ruth, my wife. This is not some grand metaphysical union; the mixing of selves in Venus’ grinder. Instead, it is about maintaining twoness: the commitment by lovers to one another’s uniqueness” (7).  

Young discusses these aspects of sexuality in chapters covering an incredible breadth of topics: awaking adolescent sexuality (as mentioned above), the humour of fucking and the ambiguity and ambivalence of sex; the performativity of sex; the solipsism of sexual pleasure and the inaccessibility of other’s pleasure; why some people enjoy being choked during sex and why others are uncomfortable chocking someone (or more generally, BDSM); the allure of sexual beauty and of the naked body; masturbation; the freedom and consciousness of sexuality; sex work; sexual fantasy; and the meaningfulness of sex including  its ‘call’ to philosophy. 

To get a sense of Young’s approach and his writing, let’s consider Chapter 12, “Solidarity,” on paid sex. First, Young ponders the issue of the way in which prostitution is different from other forms of work, say a physician doing a rectal exam.  “Sure, prostrate examinations are not edgy trysts, or occasions for edging – not for me, at least. But this procedure was almost sensual. We had small talk, nudity, lubrication, and penetration” (177). Of course, a major difference here is that a rectal exam is not aimed at (sexual or any other type of) pleasure whereas the whole point of sex work is precisely that. Hiring an escort and not receiving any pleasure misses the telos of the activity, so to speak. But why should this difference be thought so significant? Young considers the possibility that the problem with paid sex is its commodification.  But physicians are paid for their actions just as much as sex workers are. And, as de Beauvoir noted, “marital fucking has too often been a service claimed for payment – even if this payment is in food or shelter, not lucre” (183).  Rather than attempting to find a difference that legitimizes one and vilifies the other, Young asks us to approach the work of prostitutes more empathetically and consider sex work as work and see what special features apply in this occupation. Here, we can find that sex work can arise, not necessarily, but at times certainly, from poverty and troubled childhood homes.  Sex workers also often suffer from the stigma attached to their work and from the public’s perception of them. ‘Playing’ at sex as opposed to truly engaging in it can also produce a sort of bifurcated self juxtaposing fantasy and reality. Considering all of this, Young concludes that “sex workers are not some exotic cabal, to be shunned for their vices or beatified for their liberations of the spirit. Like most of us, they are workers. Thy have jobs. I let this banal fact – with all it suggests of autonomy or heteronomy, exploitation or emancipation, pride or shame, camaraderie or individualism – speak for itself. In lieu of sermons, damnation, or cash, I offer sex workers my solidarity” (192). 

There are a few things I did not like much about On Getting Off, one being its title. To me, this connotes sex as a mindless, mechanistic activity aimed exclusively at orgasm. The book, however, is anything but such an approach to sexuality. I also thought his preference for the use of “fucking” and other colloquialisms guilty of a similar misrepresentation of what Young’s book is really about. Upon reading Chapter 1, I also feared that the book would be too personal, a long first person account of a sex life. But On Getting Off is far from that. While Young does refer to his personal sexual life, he balances it with a wealth of other perspectives and writing on sex covering fields as diverse as philosophy, literature, mythology, psychology, sociology, and biology. While Young does not argue towards an overarching hypothesis or claim about his subject, he does provide a series of fascinating vignettes on its various aspects. In doing so, Young is a charming, erudite, witty guide to human sexuality and his book is well worth the read.  

Robert Scott Stewart, Ph.D., is co-author of Philosophizing About Sex (Broadview, 2015) and an editor of three books including, most recently, Expanding and Restricting the Erotic: A Critique of Current and Past Norms (Brill, 2020).

Categories: Sexuality, Philosophical

Keywords: Sexuality, philosophy