In sex, desire is not private; it must be recognised and perceived as desirable by ones’ partner. It must become the cause of their desire. Implicit in this is the risk involved in being seen by its object, as for any hope of fulfilled the desire must be recognised. This is because if my desire is genuine, I cannot of myself satisfy my wants without distorting or trivialising them – my search for enjoyment through the bodily presence of another is a longing to be enjoyed in my body. And in order for this to happen, I must give myself completely to someone else, allow myself to be seen, accepted, nurtured, in a relationship of bodily grace.

In contrast, asymmetrical sexual practices – those that are bound to specific methods of arousal or those that permit a limited awareness of the other partner – can occur, where one participants’ desire does not wait on the desire of another. The sexual norm (at least in our society), often satisfies this criteria, as well as sadomasochism, paedophilia and rape (et cetera). They are all sexual activities without risk; without acknowledgement that my joy depends on the joy of another as theirs depends on mine. These sexual activities distort the depth meaning sex can carry; they assume that sexual activity has less to do with humanity than I’d like to believe.

Furthermore, if I am reliant on another’s perception, then my desire for that perception is bound up in a place of danger and foreignness; the reaction to this is fear and hostility. In fear and hostility, the body can be perceived as a distant, dangerous object to be either subdued, or placated with rapid gratification. This is an oppressive reaction. It raises a barrier between self and others, reducing others to instruments of gratification. ‘It retreats from the knowledge that I cannot make sense of myself without others, I cannot speak until I’ve listened, I cannot love myself without being the object of love or enjoy myself without being the cause of joy.’

A ‘happily married with a white picket fence’ sexual morality is not a solution to asymmetrical or oppressive sexual activities. Rather, it absolves us of thinking about the meaning sex can carry, as do moralities which say ‘It is my emotions, not my body that matters’ or ‘It feels good and it doesn’t hurt anyone, so it’s ok. It is not an aid to discovering what part sexuality plays in our relational growth, because it simply licences sexual activity in one context and not in another.

To the disappointment of the romantic, sex will forever be tragic and comic. It is above all the area of our lives in which we can suffer utter bodily rejection and find ourselves looking the fool. Yet, by risking vulnerability, we are saved from ‘…holding back from sharing and exposure, in love with private fantasies of generalised love…’. This is because the discovery of joy is something more than the bare facts of sexual intimacy. I can only fully discover the body’s grace in taking the time needed for my partner and I to mutually recognise that we are not simply passive instruments to each other. This occurs as part of a fabric of conversation and cooperation, yet, as one can imagine, the more time is taken the longer risk endures. Faithfulness therefore is not an avoidance of risk, but the creation of a context in which grace can abound because there is a commitment to not run away from each others perceptions of one another.

It is a disaster, however, to turn sexual fidelity into a simply legal or religious bond. By blessing sexual unions we give them a reality independent of the thoughts and feelings of the people involved. More importantly though, it legitimises a promise of faithfulness and a gift of unlimited time to spend on each other, which is central for an understanding of the length, breadth and grace of sexual union. Furthermore, sexual history can be recognised without lessening the significance commitment. It is far less damaging than the fantasy ideal of marriage, which fosters the (mis)concept that sexual union is delivered from danger and doubt by satisfying social or religious criteria. Decisions regarding sexuality should be made not to satisfy the law or meet emotional or social requirements, but rather according to the meaning we attach, or desire to be attached, to our bodily selves.

All this recognises the riskiness of sex. Grace is not discovered by all. There is something frightening and potentially damaging about the sexual mutuality upon which life comes to depend. Perhaps this is why it is important to locate sexual union in a context that gives it both time and space and for it not to be everything.