My husband always jokes that he's the most envied man at his work because he's married to a woman who makes it her business to know as much as she can about sex. At parties, he tells people he's the "head of R&D" for me. Any time we have people over who've never seen our home before, he always takes them into my office and shows them my wall of book covers. I used to think this was because he was proud of me, but it's more than that. It's like he's showing them he's got it going on.
I asked him about this the other day and he freely admitted that, yeah, he likes people to know what I do for a living. All the romance I write about and all the sex, in particular, is a definite notch in his bedpost. It's a lot like the old guy who shows off his hot young arm-candy wife, he explained.
The more I thought about this concept, the more I liked it. Yeah - I admit it. If my husband gets off on the fact that I write erotic romance, then why the hell shouldn't I take it as a compliment? And in that slightly warped male logic, all erotic romance and erotica authors are sexier than your average Jane. And the same goes for readers who consume loads of the stuff. We're all a little sexier than we thought.