Was Sex Better in the ’80s?

One of the most infamous lines in Supreme Court history, “I know it when I see it,” was written in 1964, by Justice Potter Stewart. It was during the adjudication of a case, between the state of Ohio and a movie theater owner who had been arrested for showing a French movie with a sex scene, over what counts as obscene material, which isn’t protected by the First Amendment. Potter was describing, by not describing, hardcore pornography. Little did the justice know about the porn-soaked world that would come to be over the subsequent 60 years after he wrote his opinion; now, everyone knows it when they see it, because they’re bombarded with it all the time.

Pornography accounts for millions of online searches every day, and tens of millions of hours of it are watched worldwide every day. OnlyFans, a platform that allows adult creators to produce and distribute their own explicit material from their bedroom, has exploded; the British company made over $7.2 billion in 2024, and the highest earners on the site—including a former special education teacher—are raking in millions, an X-rated rendition of the American dream. A whole language—there are gooners and pay pigs, findom, and sugaring—has risen up to describe all the various features of this new culture and economy. In short, we’re in the pornverse.

And lately, some U.S. states have tried to put the genie back in the bottle by requiring mandatory verification that those who want to watch adult content are over 18. A proposed bill in Congress declares that “shielding minors from access to online pornographic content is a compelling government interest.” And earlier this month, the Supreme Court voted to uphold age-verification laws, which are on the books in 25 states. Laws like this are already a reality in the UK.

But even if we can all probably agree that it’s bad for kids to watch porn—does that mean it’s just fine for everyone else?

On one hand, it’s hard to argue adults shouldn’t be allowed to make it, or watch it. On the other hand, it objectifies and can exploit women, can show violence or degradation, and may leave viewers coarsened when it comes to the opposite sex, and with their pleasure centers shot. And that’s to say nothing of how exactly a woman comes to decide to have sex in front of a camera for money.

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Lowbrow and hush-hush subjects, like porn, are the purview of Allie Rowbottom, an author and my guest on this week’s episode of Second Thought. Her first novel was about plastic surgery, and the fraught psychology of the women who avail themselves of it, and her new novel, Lovers XXX, is about the adult entertainment industry. Specifically: the so-called “golden age of porn,” in the 1980s, in the San Fernando Valley in Los Angeles. “I just wanted to go back in time,” Rowbottom told me. Her book is high-’80s: There’s plenty of lamé, blue eye shadow, and cocaine. But she didn’t want to give the reader a rose-tinted view of the past, even though nostalgia is in vogue, and there is an argument that it was the internet that ruined porn, since before the world wide web, porn cost money, and as Rowbottom puts it: “The bodies were more natural; there were scripts; there was more of an artistic flair to the production.”

Still, “I wouldn’t want to say porn reached its apex of empowerment in the ’80s,” Rowbottom said. The book follows two friends, Jude and Winnie, who chase each other into the high-octane world of porn, power, fame, and drugs in LA as they compete for the trophy of being a Video Vixen: the girl on the cover of the hardcore VHS tapes. She wanted to get into the porn stars’ heads, she said, since “that’s what’s compelling now, especially when there’s so much artifice to everything.”

I love Rowbottom’s writing because she refuses to present neat answers to thorny questions. I asked her if porn is empowering, and she told me she couldn’t tell me, despite writing a whole book about it. “I’m going to look at it from a couple different perspectives,” she said. “But I think it’s ultimately unanswerable.”

You can watch my interview with Allie here, or listen here:

Here’s What Else I’m Thinking About

For a look into porn’s pre-digital golden age, check out the new documentary about Robin Byrd, who had a sex-themed variety show on New York’s public access television through 1998. It’s a love story disguised as one about sex, and it gives you a peek into a short-lived, liberated moment in time, before AIDS, and a subsequent moral panic made it all go away. “The human body is not indecent,” Byrd, now 71 but no less bubbly, says in one interview. “What is indecent?”

If Byrd represents the tail end of free love, Justin McLeod represents the dawn of the algorithmic era of romance. McLeod started the ubiquitous dating app Hinge about 15 years ago, and he announced this week that he’s working on a new AI-based matchmaking company, called Overtone, which he says will be “less like a social platform, more like the experience of working with an all-star personal matchmaker,” adding that “we’re at an inflection point where we can move beyond refining the existing model.” Refining existing models? Are we talking about the assembly line at a Ford plant or falling in love? Justin, please, spare us your gifts this time. No one wants to be assigned their soulmate by a large language model. For singles who aren’t convinced that AI should choose their mate, try Free Press Cupid.

I am not brave enough to see horror movies in theaters; there are too many dark corners. But since Obsession is available for streaming this week, and I could watch it at home with the lights on, I decided to give it a try. It was great, with only a few truly jarring moments—sort of like The Substance but for men. Instead of What if I could be young forever?, it’s What if the object of my affection loved me back? Go for the premise, stay for the dark drama between the sexes.

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You may know Rahm Emanuel as the former mayor of Chicago and, more importantly, the former Honestly guest, who may or may not be eyeing a presidential bid. But does he have a chance? Read Andrew Zucker on the Emanuel brothers—one of them, Ari, is a Hollywood superagent who counts MAGA darlings like Joe Rogan, Dana White, and Elon Musk as associates—and how their worlds may converge for the 2028 race.

While looksmaxxers like Clavicular are concerned with looking chiseled, former tech bro Bryan Johnson has gone viral for committing his life to living forever by any means possible. Now, his girlfriend, Kate Tolo, is joining him in his quest. “I’m not a wellness person,” she told The Wall Street Journal. “I’m really doing it because I think that this is our path toward women being understood in the world and being seen.” Godspeed!

Every week I read a letter that a Free Presser writes to Abigail Shrier, and I think, Surely, this person has been wronged so fully, or is righteous enough, that Abigail will take their side in this. It never happens. This week, a scorned woman whose wife left her for a life of “self-indulgent therapeutic bullshit” gets leveled by the great Abigail, dispenser of the best advice, and definitive ender of pity parties. Long may she reign.

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