Sex researchers are peculiar beasts. Armed with their tape measures, clipboards, surveys, and hidden cameras, they seek to provide a peephole from which to scrutinize that most private of spheres, human sexuality with lust. What's most surprising is that we let them in—we're more than happy to unzip our pants and bare our private lives. Why do we do it?
Maybe
it's precisely because sex is so private that we're compelled
to share. We know that without sex researchers to disseminate data
about our sex lives, we'd be forced to rely upon furtive glances in
the men's room, never sure of what to add or subtract to account for
the angle; upon locker room stories, never sure how many grains of
skeptical salt to apply; upon porn that only leaves us feeling
depressed about ourselves.
