Tag Archives: spirituality

How Atheism May Improve Your Sex Life

Relationship with passionate affection

When it comes to improving your sex life, there’s no one way to go about it that works for everyone. Human sexuality is complex, diverse, and exceedingly kinky. What works for one person won’t work for another and may even be detrimental in some cases.

Conversely, there are also variety of ways to undermine or ruin your sex life. That same sexual diversity that helps the human race find novel ways to get intimate with one another can also backfire horribly. Some are minor, in terms of effect, but other forces can have a much greater impact.

That brings me to religion, a topic that tends to inspire the best and worst in people. Like sex, it’s a complex phenomenon that impacts everybody differently. It can inspire great charity and compassion in some. It can just as easily incur greed, exploitation, and outright atrocity.

For those reasons, and plenty more that are too numerous to list, any effort that involves mixing sex with religion is akin to mixing napalm with TNT. I’ve made an effort to discuss both topics in a fair, balanced manner in the past. I feel as though I can only go so far before I totally inflame certain audiences.

I’m still going to try to push the conversation a bit farther. That means taking a few risks and since religion is still such a prominent force in the world, it’s effect on our collective sex lives is unavoidable.

For this particular discussion, want to focus on what happens when religion is removed from the equation. If religion is really that powerful an influence on our lives, and both history and current politics indicate that influence is not entirely trivial, then it stands to reason that the impact of its absence can reveal something about the extent of that influence.

That’s not to say that this is going to be a glowing endorsement of atheism. I prefer to let the data, the logic, and the implications speak for themselves. Since religion is on decline in many parts of the western world, I think exploring the potential impact is critical and even a little urgent.

Information on the sex lives of atheists compared to those who consider themselves religious is somewhat difficult to come by. The act of assessing and measuring someone’s sex lives, as well as the extent of their religiosity, is extremely difficult without the aid of lie detectors or mind-readers. The information we do have, though, does offer some intriguing insights.

Back in 2011, a survey entitled “Sex and Secularism” surveyed approximately 14,500 people revealed that those who identified as religious had less satisfying sex lives than their non-religious counterparts. On top of that, those same religious participants reported a high level of guilt that came along with their sex lives. Given how some religions build their theology around guilt, that shouldn’t be too surprising.

Conversely, those identifying as non-religious didn’t just report better sex lives. They had better sexual education and were more open to discussing sex in general. Everything from personal fantasies to simple tastes was fair game and less affected by guilt. That openness, along with considerably less stigma, was conducive to a more fulfilling sex life.

That effect was more pronounced by those who had once been religious, but had since become atheist. Between the absence of religiously-motivated guilt and the sexual taboos that are often theologically driven, the cumulative effect is pretty striking. This notable quote from the researchers summed it up nicely.

“People who had lost their belief and became atheists reported a significant improvement in sexual satisfaction,” the paper went on to say. Apparently the guilty feelings that religion creates around sex dissipate after a while.

Now, I can already hear the outrage sincerely devout religious crowd on the conclusions of this study. More than a few people who consider themselves religious will claim that their sex lives are superior and they may even have a case to make. Many religions offer a simple, one-size-fits-all approach to sex that is uncomplicated, straightforward, and safer. The fact that it’s also ordained by a divine power is also a factor.

I don’t deny that there are plenty of religious couples out there who have satisfying sex lives. There are probably plenty of atheists out there who have terrible sex lives, as well. However, in order to draw larger conclusions about the impact of religion on sex, we can’t just go by a few anecdotal experiences. We have to step back and see the forest from the trees.

From a psychological and physiological perspective, it makes sense that guilt, religiously-motivated or not, would undermine anyone’s sex life. Guilt has measurable effects on people. It makes it harder to focus. It keeps us from enjoying things. It’s a powerful distraction that makes us feel stress and anxiety. All of these forces can do plenty to undermine your sex life.

In my musings on taboos, I often cite religion as a driving force behind them. Organized religion has made no secret of its intent to regulate, control, or outright exploit human sexuality. There’s plenty of theology, especially among the Abrahamic religions, that imparts divinely-mandated guilt on sex.

In these religious cultures, sex isn’t just some basic biological act that people do for intimacy, procreation, and recreation. It’s subject to all sorts of holy and unholy connotations. The deities involved in these religions aren’t just interested in the kind of sex you’re having. They’ll actually punish you if you do it the wrong way.

That does more than just impart extra guilt for doing anything that strays from what priests, mullahs, monks, and rabbis deem appropriate. It also instills a very rigid family structure, one centered around a specific manifestation of sex that has very little room for fun, kink, and exploration.

That manifestation involves strict gender roles where men do the hard labor and women do the child rearing. The only sex that is sanctioned is the one that involves producing babies who subsequently grow up to be adherents/soldiers/patrons of a particular religion. The fact that type of sexual expression indirectly benefits religious institutions is probably just a coincidence.

The act of enjoying sex for non-procreative purposes would constitute a distraction. A distraction is dangerous in any religion because if people become too distracted, then they pay less attention to the religious institutions and the duties they espouse. As such, it’s in the interest of any successful religion to maintain a strict control over someone’s sex life.

That kind of control is naturally prone to stress. Given how the biological wiring of human sexuality is not conducive to that kind of narrow expression, there’s bound to be temptation. The best way to combat temptation is through stigma and taboo. By hijacking powerful feelings like guilt, it’s possible heavily influence peoples’ sex lives, even if it’s impossible to control them.

It’s akin to putting lead weights on somebody’s limbs and convincing them that the weight is normal. Even if they come to accept that, the weight still skews perceptions and that can only do so much in terms of circumventing basic biology. It also means that when those weights come off, the effect is pretty striking.

Suddenly, the stigma that once kept someone from seeking the sex they desired are gone. The burdens associated with thoughts and feelings that religious institutions deem unholy are lifted. Like any form of stress relief, it can be pretty liberating.

That doesn’t necessarily mean the 2011 survey is conclusive. It has been criticized for being unscientific in some aspects. Some of those criticisms are valid and the researchers concede that, but to the extent the data is consistent with what we understand about how religion can affect our sexuality, it passes some critical filters.

Our sex lives are complicated. Religion, in its many forms, is complicated as well. Regardless of how you feel about one or the other, mixing them is almost certain to compound both. Atheism, like not playing a sport or not having a hobby, simply removes one of those complications.

It’s not a universal fix. It doesn’t subvert other potential issues that may undermine someone’s sex life. There’s plenty more research to be done and religion is still evolving with each passing year, but when it comes to removing divinely-imposed, theologically-driven guilt, atheism stimulates the necessary aspects that make for a satisfying sex life.

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Sex Cults: The Kinky (And Often Dark) Side Of Religion

Certain things don’t go well together, but still find a way to be potent, albeit for all the wrong reasons. I’m not just talking about people who dip their french fries in mayonnaise or banana peppers on pizza either. Certain combinations are just uniquely powerful and not always for the right reasons.

That brings me to religion, a topic I try to avoid like a rash on my scrotum. While I have written about religion and how it affects our sex lives before, I generally don’t like to bring it up on this blog. In my experience, few things kill the mood quicker than discussions about religion. It might as well be the antithesis of every Barry White.

I also feel compelled to point out that I have some deeply religious friends and family members. While I may not share their theology, I go out of my way to respect their beliefs. I don’t try to debate them or de-convert them. They have every right to believe what they believe with all their hearts and souls.

With those disclaimers out of the way, let’s talk about sex cults. I hope I have your attention now because this is one of those potent combinations I mentioned. More often than not, religion and sex are constantly at odds. For some, achieving orgasm and achieving spiritual enlightenment are the same thing. One just requires fewer tissues.

There seems to be a never-ending battle to temper, mitigate, or manage certain sexual desires in the name of religious zeal, often resulting in major taboos. That’s understandable in that sexuality is one of the things that influences the lives of every person on this planet, regardless of language, location, race, or attitude. It’s like a giant mountain. It can’t be circumvented. It can only be navigated.

Sex cults, on the other hand, do more than just navigate. They don’t just try to manage the sexual proclivities of its adherents either. In essence, they attempt to channel sexuality into forging stronger, more faithful adherents. Since people have sexuality hardwired into them at birth, you could argue they work smarter rather than harder.

In theory, this doesn’t have to be a bad thing. Not every sex cult needs to micromanage how its adherents use their genitals. Some are outright gleeful about sex. However, there are many that take it to unhealthy and unsexy extremes, which undermines the mood for everyone except the cult leader.

Speaking of which, one of the most common themes in a sex cult revolves around the leader, specifically with respect to how their genitals are somehow more holy than everyone else’s. This is how men like David Koresh and Warren Jeffs manage to convince dozens of pious women to do their religious duty, which requires them to make their bodies accessible to the cult leader in whatever holy or unholy way he sees fit.

That’s not to say there haven’t been female cult leaders. There have and yes, they can be every bit as perverse as the men. At the core of any sex cult, manipulation of sexuality is usually a secondary goal, at least officially. No successful religion, or any organized social movement, succeeds by being that transparent from the beginning.

Most cult leaders, male or female, won’t say outright that the entire basis of their cult is built around exploiting our most basic desires. They may not even believe it themselves. In fact, I would argue that most people, aside from admitted frauds, that they sincerely believe that they’re not just exploiting peoples’ spiritual sensibilities so they can more easily get sex from adherents.

In their own minds, those in a sex cult may be convinced that what they’re doing is spiritual and holy. Even if it is something as basic as an orgasm, they’ve ascribed some sort of spiritual significance to it. As an erotica/romance writer, I can kind of understand that.

There’s power in that kind of feeling, especially in cultures where it’s so easy to induce shame in others for simply having sexual feelings. I’ve mentioned before how sexual repression can really mess with someone’s psyche and not just with respect to their sex life. Building a cult around this powerful feeling that so few of us can escape isn’t just cunning. It’s distressingly practical.

There are a whole lot of factors that go into creating a cult, but most of them come back to control. Most religion, especially the successful and sincere ones, only go so far with control. When properly done, it can actually be beneficial to society. Cults, especially those of the sexual variety, take it ten steps further.

A sex cult won’t just try to control the when, how, and why you have sex. It won’t just try control how you feel about sex. It will actively shape, re-shape, and warp, if necessary, your entire perceptions about sex, intimacy, and everything in between. Again, it won’t do this directly. It’ll usually hide behind a vast excuse bank of morality, piety, and peer pressure.

More often than not, a sex cult will make you depend on the cult to get the release that your caveman brain still craves. I’m not just talking about the orgasm either. A sex cult will also try to provide the sense of intimacy, love, and community that most people get without sacrificing an animal or a piece of your penis.

It’s usually at that point where it’s hard to tell the difference between piety and subversion. Once people get locked into a cult that gives them a strict, but clear structure for how they get their sex, and all the sweet extras that come with it, they’re effectively locked in. Some may argue that they’re trapped, but I don’t suspect that most adherents will see it that way.

In addition to being very horny, we humans are a very social species. We form groups, tribes, and fan clubs with the same ease that a lion mauls a wounded zebra. Whether it’s a religion, erotica/romance novels, or Taylor Swift music, we’ll form a group about it and pursue it with religious fervor. In that sense, a sex cult isn’t doing anything magical. It’s just taking our own biology and pushing it to an extreme.

Now, I don’t bring up sex cults to warn people about them. I’m also not trying to point out the signs that the charismatic preacher who claims salvation comes through his penis might be a cult leader. Like I said before, most religion is fairly harmless and even beneficial to society. Sex cults, like any other cult, just hijacks a basic, yet powerful part of our being and exploits it.

It’s nefarious, but also fascinating. I built the entire premise of one of my novels around it, namely “The Final Communion.” In that novel, a young woman named Grace Maria Goodwin navigates a sex-fueled ritual that her deeply-religious community uses to control its adherents. Many of the themes I incorporated into this story come from my fascination with sex cults.

I’ve thought, at times, about expanding on novels like “The Final Communion.” I might not be able to develop a full-fledged sequel for Grace’s story, but I think there are untapped stories surrounding sex cults that are either too controversial or too distressing to contemplate.

It’s because they’re distressing, though, that we shouldn’t ignore it. So long as sex is such a powerful driving force in our lives, cults and even organized religion will continue to use it to exploit people. Religion, in and of itself, isn’t a bad thing, but when it starts to undermine our sex lives, then we should be concerned.

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