Despite being asexual, I still love a smutty romance book

“Being a lover of romance with no desire for sex is always going to be a tricky thing for me to grapple with.”

Now that I’ve got your attention, let me quickly dispel the main question in your mind: no, it’s not because they arouse me. Sorry to be the bearer of ‘bad’ news, but I love a smutty book for a myriad of reasons that have nothing to do with the spice.

As a lover of romance novels, smutty scenes are pretty hard to avoid and they’re par for the course in the genre. If I had a dollar for every time I’ve heard prolific audiobook voice actor Julia Whelan narrate a steamy affair, I could likely finance my 100-hour listening average on Audible.

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When I’m having a yap with a bookish friend, they’re often quite taken aback when they hear that I’ve read the likes of Hannah Grace and Elle Kennedy. With a hushed tone and a cautious demeanour, they’ll often ask why I like smutty books given my asexual status. Now, you may be asking yourself the same thing, so here goes my three-pronged answer!

For one, I often compare my experience reading about sex and relationships in a book to the way others experience sci-fi books, as it truly feels otherworldly given my lack of first-hand experience in the area. Orgasms and cyborgs feel equally far-fetched to me.

But it’s worth pointing out that just because something isn’t immediately relatable to me, it doesn’t mean that I have no interest in it. I mean, isn’t the whole point of reading fiction to put yourself in other people’s shoes and to broaden your horizons? And yes, shockingly to some, my horizon is broadened through Talia Hibbert’s blush-inducing chapters. These books are fun and escapism at their best.

The steamy scenes are so illuminating, revealing the interpersonal relationships of the characters and putting their likes, fears and communication styles on full display. There’s always a certain level of vulnerability involved in any sexual or romantic interaction, and this insight into raw humanity is so fascinating for someone who isn’t familiar with it.

When Emily Henry’s moody dream boy, Gus Everett, is mapping January Andrews’ body with kisses in Beach Read, this is a moment of sheer vulnerability from a man who never thought he would get the chance to sleep with the ‘one that got away’. Undressing in More Than a Best Friend for Beth and Gwen is an act of defiance against the societal norms of the 1800s.

The way that Dev respects Charlie’s sexual boundaries due to his OCD and demisexuality in The Charm Offensive, is one of the most beautiful portraits of a loving and caring relationship that I’ve ever witnessed (yes, this book made me bawl my eyes out on a plane so please do yourself a favor and read it). These scenes are not just spice – they’re plot, they’re character development and they’re a form of love.

And for me, an alloromantic but asexual person, I’m simply a romantic at heart. Being a lover of romance with no desire for sex is always going to be a tricky thing for me to grapple with, but viewing these situations from a safe distance (i.e. through a book) is my preferred way of experiencing a romantic life.

So, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to get back to re-reading How To End a Love Story and squealing, giggling and kicking my feet.

For the best romance reads of the year, head here.