Of all the dimensions of the human experience only one receives sustained pressure to remain outside the realm of normal conversation, resting undisclosed and unknown—that is, ordinary human sexual needs.  Contrary to what some might think, this avoidance of discussion of sexuality is not limited to cultures influenced by Puritans, the Taliban or other religious groups who are frequently held responsible for our silence.  Routinely in many cultures around the world one sees an inability to talk about real human sexual needs.  Virtually no one is teaching us to talk about our sexual needs in a manner that is empowering, helpful or perhaps even spiritually uplifting.

In contrast, consider how comfortably we explore, study and accept our neediness in other dimensions of the human experience.  When we consider physical needs, virtually any schoolchild can rattle off, “food, water, clothing, and shelter.”  With more education, we come to understand that our physical needs for food include a certain caloric intake required to maintain our metabolism; protein, fats and carbohydrates in a proper balance; vitamins and minerals in recommended daily amounts and so forth.  Daily, it seems, the media publishes results from new studies adding to this knowledge of nutrition and to the knowledge of other physical needs like minimum requirements for sleep, light exposure and clean air free of contaminants like cigarette smoke.  This comfortable focus on human needs is dependent upon our defining “need” as “that which is required for the organism to survive.”  This book, in contrast, is a treatment of the word “need” from the perspective of “that which is required for the organism to thrive.”

In fact, most dimensions of the human experience of needs receive the same passionate scrutiny, study, and dissemination as our needs for food.  We debate children’s intellectual needs in the form of arguments about curriculum, methods of teaching, and length of education requirements.  We comfortably accept the notion that, like our nutritional needs, our intellectual needs continue throughout the lifespan and include adults’ needs for intellectual stimulation, gratification, growth and expression.

We accept that all humans have emotional needs—what kind of monstrous parents would we be to claim that our children do not need love, comfort or joy.  No parent worthy of the name would deny that our children have a human right to feelings and to learn to incorporate their knowledge of feelings in the formulation of their decisions.  No one doubts that these emotional needs continue beyond our childhood years and extend up to the final breath we take upon our death beds.

Only a child with monsters or morons for parents would be left without any provision to address his social needs.  What parent seeing his child without a friend in the world would not feel broken-hearted over such a state?  We intuitively know, and would be less than human if we didn’t, that our children (and by extension, all humans) need companionship, social intercourse and the stimulation of sharing time and thoughts with others.

Even those of us who are most irreligious would loathe to claim that our children, even atheist children, have no spiritual needs.  All humans have a spiritual viewpoint over how the unseen bits of this universe exist and what they mean to us and our fellows—even atheists.  Certainly parents and others differ about what our spiritual needs are—we might well argue for example whether they should be enrolled in formal religious training, or simply left alone.  Some might even suggest we would perhaps be best taught to appreciate Nature and the meaning it brings to the human experience.  But there is no argument that human beings have spiritual needs to know, understand and come to some inner peace about those aspects of the human experience that cry out for meaning and for understanding.

In the same manner we have financial needs and we know about our financial needs for resources, training and mentoring—and there is no argument about such ideas in any significant way.  We universally agree that people have recreational needs to have fun and we agree that these needs begin in childhood and endure throughout the lifespan; children have playgrounds and grown-ups take vacations and have hobbies because of this universal understanding of the need for play and recreation.

Our aesthetic needs for beauty in our lives is also understood, accepted and easily discussed.  We collect art, publicly fund museums and other public art displays or even just paint a wall in our homes because of this human aesthetic need for beauty in our lives.  No one suggests we might seriously make our way through life more prudently by seeking out physically unattractive mates, cultivate facial or other bodily distortions or buy only homes utterly lacking in charm.  No one wishes to listen to music they find distasteful; quite the contrary, we need to listen to beautiful music.  We gravitate to beauty as matter gravitates to mass, only rather than a law of nature, this gravitation is a law of our nature.

But in the discussion of human sexuality there is a sort of blindness.  This blindness results in the absence of any intelligent discussion of human sexual need.  The vast majority of contemporary public conversations on sexuality is left to one of two extremes—either the religious fundamentalists or political extremists with an overly simplified system of “Thou shalt nots” or the vulgar rants of the radio shock jocks and libertines.  Neither of these two extremes presents a thoughtful, considered discussion of the notion of our collective and individual sexual needs.  Similarly, parents and their children, lovers (or would be lovers) and even spouses are generally unable to intelligently hold thousands of needed conversations about this extremely important matter.

In my work I have had the privilege of interviewing thousands of individuals and couples about sexual matters.  Routinely I have asked them whether they and their spouse or lover could talk comfortably about sex.  All of them have said, “Yes, of course.”  Upon further questioning, a very different story unfolds.  Detailed questioning reveals that, even in their most private conversations with their most intimate of associates, they are unable to discuss their sexual thoughts, feelings, behaviors, fantasies or histories.  What they mean when they say they can talk about sex is that they can use the word “sex” in a sentence—so long as it isn’t a personal matter.

This book is an attempt to provide the language that would allow all of us to begin discussing sexual matters in a simple and human way.  Without such a model, even the religious who think they should be the ones to talk to their children about sex, simply wouldn’t know how to do so.  If only they had the words, lovers could really enjoy each other more instead of just hoping things will work out.  Spouses could tell one another about their changing needs over their years together.

In the last century, therapists who worked with alcoholics and listened to their stories learned about dysfunctional families.  Through a process of reverse engineering they eventually figured out how normal families should work.  This reverse engineering gave birth to a renaissance in the field of family therapy.

In the same way my work with sex offenders has taught me about their sexually dysfunctional history.  Sex offenders tend to have awful sex lives—awfully boring and awfully unfulfilling.  Their sex lives are sometimes nonexistent except for the crime that got them in trouble!  Far from predatory, most of them seem pathetic.  Therapy that empowers them to lawfully and that honorably get their needs met is vastly more effective than teaching them to even further distance themselves from their sexual needs.  Teaching them how to powerfully and joyfully embrace their sexuality and sexual needs has helped me understand what normal humans need in the same way that understanding alcoholic families helped all of us learn how to be healthier.

I expect to hear from some who differ with my conclusions.  There will doubtless be those who simply deny that people have sexual needs or who deny that those needs are as I have outlined them in this book.  But whenever one attempts to codify any information helpful to the race of humanity as a whole there is invariably an outcry regarding exceptions or that what is mainly true, overwhelming true is somehow of little value to humanity because there is some exception…somewhere.  “I knew someone who didn’t need sex at all,” for example.  But the reader is reminded how, just as we define a sheep as a four-legged animal and a man as having only two legs, sure enough somewhere in some tabloid there are examples of both who were born with three legs.  Nevertheless, levelheaded parents keep explaining to their children that sheep are different from us in that they have curly wool, sometimes horns, and that they are most certainly four-legged creatures.

Our sexual needs are constantly present, yet always changing.  They are lifelong, yet developmental; idiosyncratic, yet universally shared.  It is a moral principle of humanity that the individual is the only one who can rightfully determine which of his needs he will ignore.  Thus, I might forego a meal (or many meals) and that is certainly my right.  But it is wrong of others to deprive me against my will of my right to eat.

My body tells me what I need.  I develop a hunger I can feel in my skin when I need to be touched in a specific sort of loving way.  I can feel the pressing need in my thoughts created by my ignorance when I feel overwhelmed and uninformed.  The heart feels an ache whenever the loneliness for an adult companion weighs on me.  The book you are holding will equip you to talk about these sexual needs in a real and genuine way that will guard your dignity.   You will begin to know and understand yourself in a way that will allow you to let other people get to know you as much as you like.  You will experience a deeper spirituality as the most intimate parts of your body become seen as blessings rather than trials.

This book is designed to help you and your family learn how to talk comfortably about sex.  The book is designed to be the sort of book that, set out on a coffee table, might be picked up by anyone under your roof (family member or guest, young or old) without fear of embarrassment.  Children, parents, and lovers alike will likely find the book helpful in learning how to talk about the many aspects of this important part of what it means to be human.

My fondest hope is that we will not need to learn from our own errors exclusively; that we could learn from the very painful lessons of those whose ignorance of their sexual needs led them to hurt themselves and others—sometimes beyond words.  Even those who read these pages will make mistakes but with a father’s heart I wish for all of you that your mistakes too will become part of a beautiful learning experience of how to manage your human sexuality.