Why I Still Recommend Come As You Are in 2024

April 24th, 2024

I first read Emily Nagoski’s Come As You Are in 2016, according to my Goodreads account. And I’ve been meaning to write a review ever since.

And there’s a reason for that.

You see, seven-plus years is a loooong time on the Internet, a little less so outside of it. However, I have continually recommended Come As You Are (CAYA), here (her name is even a tag on this blog!), in person, on Reddit, and to fellow classmates, among others. I’ve referenced it for work and school. It’s become something of a holy text for sexual desire, and I’m not the only person for whom this is true.

Emily Nagoski changed the landscape when she wrote this approachable book breaking down the ways that sexual desire works–and sometimes seems not to. That’s not hyperbole, either. This book brought the idea of responsive desire and the dual-control system of sexual desire from the white tower of academia to the hands of the people. You’ll find countless articles about this, sometimes by me, everywhere from NPR to Men’s Health. And it’s due in no small part to Nagoski’s work in translating the existing research into more accessible language, including plenty of helpful metaphors.

Come As You Are

That popularity is exactly why I never got around to writing a review. There is no lack of praise for CAYA. Researchers, therapists, book reviewers, bloggers–we all loved it. It became a New York Times Bestseller, after all. So I didn’t see a need to do more than rate it on Goodreads when others had already covered it by the time I got around to reading it 18 months after it came out (and after I wondered how it compared to a different book).

Most important, however, was how the book resonated with readers, the real people whose lives could be improved by the knowledge in those pages. Those people were mainly women because that is the audience Nagoski targeted because of how this information about libido impacts women.

Reading Come As You Are is like having a lightbulb moment simultaneously combined with a warm hug that says, “You are not broken. You are wonderful and loveable just the way you are.” Instead of understanding the natural sciences like you would in an experiment, you better understand your and/or your partner’s desire–or lack thereof. It was much needed.

For so long, people who couldn’t muster desire for their partners despite having great relationships and feeling attraction for them or those who just couldn’t get horny as quickly as society (and partners) expected were told they were broken (while using these so-called shortcomings to sell all sorts of potentially dangerous or unnecessary products). Women were seen as the problem. CAYA flipped the script. By providing information about the intricacies of desire and acceptance of different types of desire, Nagoski helped people understand what might be getting in the way of a more satisfying sex life. She pointed out that societal expectations made people miserable, even when they enjoyed themselves.

Emily Nagoski gave people a new approach to something that legitimately concerned them but had never been resolved by the age-old advice to try something new or spice up their sex life. She offered hope.

If any of this sounds like it might help you, then I wholeheartedly recommend Come As You Are. It’s not just for straight women in relationships with a desire discrepancy. Almost anyone can benefit from reading this book, regardless of gender, orientation, relationship status, or desire level. In fact, I think one of the biggest disservice some people do to this book is overlook how it applies to men, a demographic whose sexual desire is universally assumed to be automatic and, well, simple. If they read CAYA, they’d see otherwise.

And all of this is because the author took a journey to understand her own struggles with sexual desire and brought us all along with her (which certainly added to the book’s approachable nature).

In 2021, just six years after the initial printing, Nagoski revised CAYA. But the original remains as relevant and helpful in 2024 as it did in 2015. No revisions were necessary, even if they were appreciated. But you might as well buy the revised version if you think there’s something to learn. Keep it on your bookshelf or Kindle. Highlight passages or add bookmarks. Pass it around to friends. Read it for book club. It’s worth it still.


I write this shortly after reading Nagoski’s most recent book, Come Together. This newest work, while still aimed more at women readers, tackles sexuality issues as couples—and especially long-term couples—experience them. It starts with the premise that understanding how your desire works can change your life. But it may not always be enough to summit the mountain created by other issues. Instead, Come Together instructs readers to look past desire and focus on pleasure with some practical tips for doing exactly that.

Come Together is a natural sequel to Come As You Are in many ways, and if there were an instance where I wouldn’t recommend Nagoski’s first book, it would be if they already had but needed more. This book fills that need.

And, hey, maybe neither of these books meets any of the needs you’ll ever have (although I doubt it). In that case, I can’t recommend them to you. If so, you’re already doing better than most people, so consider yourself incredibly lucky. But if you ever find yourself joining the rest of humanity with at least occasional sexual issues, these books will be there for you.

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What Do Women Want?: Adventures in the Science of Female Desire

January 4th, 2023

Although I meant to sit down to write this review months ago, I’ve actually done it in far less time than it took to actually read this book since placing it on my to-read list (which badly needs and update). In fact, that delay contributes largely to my review as you’ll see when you keep reading…

The field of sex research is an interesting one. Because it was for so long viewed as inappropriate or unimportant, it has lagged behind other fields. This simultaneously means that we missed out on opportunities to learn about sexuality, and now that sex research is well underway, it’s happening at a rapid-fire pace. The downside of this frenzy of activity is that research or publications about research can quickly become dated, even painfully so. This doesn’t bode with for Daniel Bergner’s book What Do Women Want?

Published in 2013, this book isn’t quite a decade old. Yet, I was shocked at how unfamiliar I was with some of the researchers Bergner interviewed or cited aside from Lori Brotto. Some of the names I know indirectly because they’ve been cited by researchers with whom I am familiar. As I read this book, it almost seemed to focus on a different generation of researchers–and thus their research–than the articles, books, and podcasts I’ve consumed about sexuality over the last decade. Without more recent research, What Do Women Want? seems lacking.

Although I hesitate to say it, I think a project of this nature might have been overly ambitious, given the state of research in 2013. Of course, hindsight is 20/20, but Bergner’s book just doesn’t stand on its own two feet. Because the author’s ultimate point is that, yet, women do want to have sex and not necessarily in relationships. Yet that hardly seems groundbreaking or all that helpful, at least in 2022 2023.

After finishing the book, I was left wondering, “So what?” What are readers supposed to do with this argument, even if it’s the first time they’ve considered it (and I concede that this book might have been more revelatory when it was first published). There’s no thoughtful analysis about why we’ve come to a place where we believe women aren’t interested in sex, or women may not feel comfortable expressing that interest, let alone suggestions about what to do with this information. If women want to have sex, how do we get them there? Of course,  the answers to these questions are inextricably related.

Rest assured that plenty of researchers and sex educators, often women, have discussed both the causes and potential solutions. They’re written ad nauseam about how society slut-shames women, how sex education has failed us, and how we prioritize men’s pleasure over women’s to such an extent that we view women’s sexuality as lesser than men’s to the extent that we have pathologized it and normalized misogyny and rape culture.

And, you guessed it, all those things contribute to women’s inability to speak up about their desires and get what they want. Advocating for our sexuality can seem a losing battle when the sex we wind up having, the very sex that’s accepted as “normal,” is so subpar that we’d rather do literally anything else.

Of course, understanding these causes directly suggests what we need to do to improve the situation and both Emily Nagoski and Lori Brotto have written useful and timeless books that touch on ways women can improve their sex lives–from desire to orgasm. I’m talking about Come As You Are and Better Sex Through Mindfulness, respectively. Even Peggy Kleinpart’z Magnificent Sex, which is written less for the lay reader, offers more actionable advice.

But Bergner doesn’t touch on any of this. He only cherry-picks data that indicates women want more sex than they’re having or are willing to admit. While I think that’s ultimately true, it doesn’t make for a riveting book in the 2020s. It feels like I picked up a dusty relic, and I wouldn’t be surprised if it became forgotten as so many books do.

Perhaps that’s to be expected. Bergner, as both an author and journalist, doesn’t focus on sexuality–or even health. His choice of research and argument might reflect a base unfamiliarity with the topic, and this might still be true for many readers, even in 2023.

Emily Nagoski once replied to me on Twitter, saying that she and Bergner used much of the same research but came to different conclusions. I am not sure that’s entirely accurate. The two authors stopped their research at different points, which is why Bergner’s conclusion in this book is where the conversation should really begin, not end. It’s why this book didn’t knock my socks off and likely would be frustrating for anyone who wants to better understand their sexuality or that of their women partners.

Fortunately, other books have done both of those things, and there are many more options since this one hit the shelves. That leaves What Do Women Want? for those who are more interested in research that affirms women’s desire or learning about how sex research has changed through the ages, and an actual textbook (Justin Lehmiller’s Psychology of Human Sexuality comes to mind) inevitably does it better.

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Science of Sex: Dual Control Model

August 13th, 2017

Welcome to the sixth installment in a new feature on Of Sex and Love: Science of Sex. In this feature, I plan to discuss the science of sexuality in an easy-to-digest format that’s accessible to the casual reader. I will also follow up with some extended reading material for people who want to know more about the subject of each post.

Enjoy!

dual control model of sexual desire

I’ve been interested in the dual control model since I first read about it in Emily Nagoski’s book Come As You Are, which I highly recommend but apparently never got around to reviewing. The dual control model was first proposed by Bancroft and Janssen in the early 2000s. This theory is relatively new, but it’s become accepted because it explains desire for many people.

The dual control model explains why desire is more complicated than we’ve been led to believe. It’s not just about what turns us on (our Sexual Excitation System (SES)). Turn offs (Sexual Inhibition System (SIS)) are also as important, and things that arouse you and detract from your desire happen at the same time. Whether you want to have sex is the result of this equation.

SESes (accelerators) can include being attracted to someone, sexy books, music or movies, someone who smells good and, in a few people, stress. SISes that put the kibosh on your arousal might be needing to shower or brush teeth (or needing the same from your partner), having kids or roommates home in the house, dissatisfaction with a relationship, being self-conscious about your body, or any kind of stress. Mood can be a brake, and women are more sensitive to mood when it comes to desire.

The original surveys were given to men and focused on issues with erectile dysfunction. Bancroft and Janssen divided inhibitors into type types for men: SIS1 refers to performance anxiety while SIS2 is inhibition due to possible consequences of sex. Since then, a survey with modified questions has been given to women.  Results indicated that feelings about relationships are especially important to a woman’s desire.

Nagoski’s book is geared toward women, and the dual control model is especially helpful for women who can’t figure out why they don’t want sex more — or even if that means something is wrong with them (hint: there’s not). The dual control model specifically explains why pressing down the gas pedal isn’t enough for many people to want more sex. They must let up on the brakes (inhibitors/turn offs).

I found this explanation especially intriguing because it affects everyone. Dr. Nagoski does discuss this in Come As You Are, mentioning that men tend to have more sensitive accelerators and less sensitive breaks than women. The things that want to make them have sex are many and powerful while the things that make them hesitate are fewer and weaker.

I was eager to apply the dual control model to myself. As best as I can tell, I have more sensitive accelerators than many women but more sensitive brakes than most men. I think many people will benefit from analyzing their desire though the filter of the dual control model.

Interestingly, bisexual women tend to have higher levels of desire than straight women according to the dual control model. I’d like to see how different demographics stack up to straight men and women.

Further Reading

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