`Centerfold Syndrome' Makes Men Prisoners Of Perfection

At some point in the childhood of almost every American male, a boy encounters the centerfold. My introduction occurred sometime in junior high, when a savvy older friend handed me a wad of well-worn papers and told me to "take these and have some fun."

I frankly didn't know what they were until hours later, walking home, when I pulled them from my pocket, stopped on the sidewalk and gaped. It was a confusing moment. I was captivated, but also perplexed. I couldn't stop wondering why in the world this young woman was putting her body on display.

Eventually, I stopped caring about that woman, and began to relate primarily to her parts. In so doing, says Texas psychologist Gary Brooks, I joined the legions of U.S. males afflicted with "the centerfold syndrome."

Brooks coined that phrase - and has written a new book by that name - to describe how heterosexual males become obsessed with women's body parts. He says that while men's interest in sexuality is inborn, the manner in which we act out our sexuality is learned behavior.

"In our society, men generally learn to pair orgasm with visions of naked, airbrushed women," Brooks says. "And we can learn to unpair the two."

Why would a man want to?

Brooks says that men under the influence of the centerfold syndrome become virtual lap dogs in the company of an attractive woman. They're willing to compromise their integrity, and their safety, by having sex with women they don't know or like. And they often feel depressed or guilty after these encounters.

Married men with the syndrome tend to be jealous of men with centerfoldlike wives, Brooks says. And they sometimes feel cheated when their own wives gain weight, develop stretch marks, or in some other way diverge from the cultural symbols of beauty.

This was the case a decade ago with Brooks. After 15 years of marriage, Brooks, then in his late 30s, began to notice signs of aging in his wife. He found himself obsessing on those signs, becoming angry with his wife and even pressuring her to change.

Eventually, he realized this was not his wife's problem but his own. Like many males growing up in postwar America, Brooks had learned about women's bodies primarily from pornography, James Bond movies and older male acquaintances. His earliest relationships with women, he recalls, often ended when he no longer could accept their physical "flaws."

Now nearing midlife, Brooks saw that if he wanted his marriage to last, he would have to let go of perfection. He retrained his mind, and his body, to de-emphasize a woman's parts.

Today, his early conditioning still emerges at times. But he says his definition of beauty has broadened to include "the woman as a whole" - her tenderness, openness and strength, as well as her body. Meanwhile, he says, sex has never been better.

"When I was worried about perfection, there was a letdown after sex," Brooks says. "There's always a physiological letdown, but this was emotional. I'd feel depressed and alienated. Now, sex is more communicative. There's less haste, less pretending. Afterward, I have a feeling of comfort and connection."

To some men, comfort and connection in sex are not high priorities. To them, "The Centerfold Syndrome" (Jossey-Bass, $22) may read like the rationalizations of a middle-aged man who still, deep down, wants to sleep with Misses January through December.

In fact, though, by revealing his sexual insecurities, Brooks gives depth to his intellectually insightful book. And he gives hope to those men who seek genuine sexual fulfillment in a culture that distorts, perverts and attempts to profit from our most intense and sacred desires.

(Copyright 1995, Neil Chethik)

VoiceMale appears periodically in the Sunday Scene section of The Times.