FELICE
NEWMAN
IS
on
a
mission.
“I
want
to
stamp
out
the
idea
of
‘lesbian
bed
death’
in
my
lifetime,”
says
Newman,
whose
revised
“The
Whole
Lesbian
Sex
Book”
just
hit
stores.
Lesbian
bed
death.
It’s
become
one
of
our
founding
ideas,
like
the
second-date-U-Haul
phenomenon,
or
the
notion
that
all
lesbians
are
related
by
six
degrees
of
girlfriends.
Lesbians
in
long-term
relationships
at
some
point
just
stop
having
sex.
Instead,
we
crawl
into
bed
with
our
books
and
our
cats.
We
cuddle,
we
read,
we
talk
—
and
then
we
fall
asleep.
Lesbian
bed
death
is
something
that
a
lot
of
us
believe
in.
If
it
hasn’t
happened
to
us,
we
figure
that
we’re
the
lucky
exceptions.
But
Newman
says
it’s
just
not
true.
She
tells
me
that
lesbian
bed
death
was
a
concept
coined
by
writer
JoAnn
Loulan
in
the
1980s
and
1990s.
Loulan
wanted
to
get
lesbians
to
talk
about
sex,
something
they
were
uncomfortable
with
after
the
parched
years
of
the
1970s.
“She
was
a
bit
of
a
comedian,”
Newman
says
now.
“She
was
trying
to
be
funny
so
that
lesbians
would
be
comfortable,
so
they
wouldn’t
feel
alone.”
The
phrase
was
sticky.
So
sticky,
it
stuck.
Instead
of
being
a
term
that
described
a
common
condition
that
women
should
work
to
overcome,
it
became
a
mandate.
Enter
into
a
long-term
relationship,
and
lesbian
bed
death
was
inevitable.
So
a
whole
generation
of
lesbians
became
resigned
to
the
idea
of
life
without
sex.
Perhaps
that’s
why
so
many
of
us
became
serial
monogamists.
We
thought,
“Well,
if
we
haven’t
had
sex
for
a
few
months,
it’s
probably
all
over.
We
should
break
up
and
move
on.”
We
think
that
the
only
way
to
liven
up
our
sex
lives
is
to
try
sex
with
someone
new,
either
by
leaving
or
by
cheating.
NEWMAN
WANTS
TO
change
our
minds.
All
couples
experience
some
kind
of
lessening
of
sexual
activity
after
the
initial
burst
of
rabid,
bonding,
bunny-sex
at
the
beginning
of
a
relationship.
Heterosexual
couples
talk
about
it
all
the
time.
But
they
work
on
it.
They
know
that
other
things
get
in
the
way
when
you
create
a
life
together:
jobs,
family
stress,
kids,
graduate
school.
Other
parts
of
life
start
to
become
more
important
than
sex.
But
Newman
believes
—
and
I
think
she’s
right
—
that
we
should
prioritize
our
sexual
lives.
In
fact,
she
says,
“our
sexual
lives
should
be
as
important
as
our
work
lives,
as
our
creative
lives,
as
our
social
lives.”
We
need
to
build
in
time
for
sex.
It’s
important.
It
glues
couples
together,
first
of
all.
And
we
need
to
learn
that
a
fulfilling
sex
life
doesn’t
mean
we
must
have
many
partners
(although
multiple
partners
are
fine
by
Newman,
as
long
as
everyone
is
honest
about
what’s
going
on).
More
isn’t
necessarily
better
in
this
case.
You
can
sleep
with
a
lot
of
people
and
still
have
really
bad
sex.
Or
you
can
stay
with
your
partner
for
years
—
40
years,
50
years
—
and
have
a
continually
renewed
sense
of
sexual
desire
and
fulfillment
for
both
of
you.
But
sex
is
also
personally
important,
personally
nurturing,
a
vital
part
of
our
solo
identities.
Giving
up
sex
is
like
abandoning
all
your
friends.
IF
THAT
DOESN’T
convince
you,
maybe
you
should
think
about
sex
between
lesbians
as
a
very
feminist
idea.
For
too
long
it
was
assumed
that
sex
was
for
men
only.
They
crawled
on
top
of
us;
we
sat
back
and
thought
of
England,
or
our
new
cookie
recipe.
But
as
we
know
now,
that’s
just
not
true.
Women
love
sex!
Lesbians
love
sex!
And
we’re
good
at
it.
And
it’s
fun.
We
don’t
have
to
give
it
up
halfway
through
a
love
relationship
just
because
we
think
it’s
inevitable.
“You
can
have
hot
sex
in
a
relationship,”
Newman
says.
“It
doesn’t
have
to
be
all
pastels
and
flowers.”
Newman
has
many
ideas
in
her
quite
excellent
book,
but
my
favorite
is
to
compile
a
list
of
sexual
activities
you’ve
done,
fantasized
about,
or
would
like
to
try.
To
keep
your
sex
life
active
and
fun
and
adventurous
you
should
look
at
both
partners’
yes
lists
and
commit
to
trying
new
things
out.
It
is
the
differences
that
keep
sex
alive,
not
the
sameness.
