Why Horny Horror Films Have Better Sex Than Romcoms Ever Did

Horror movies might scare you stiff, but they also understand sex, consent, and desire better than the sexless wastelands of modern romcoms.

There’s something taboo and wildly delicious about watching a final girl get laid before she gets bloodied. She earns her orgasm, and she earns her survival… And it’s not just me. Horny horror has officially outpaced the romcom in owning sexual tension, portraying desire authentically, and giving us the guts to go there—literally dripping with booty, and bravery.

How did this happen? How did the romcom—once the genre of sex-fueled tension, quippy foreplay, and bathtub slips—lose its edge, while horror of all genres found its rhythm in the rhythmic thrust? Let’s unzip this, dear reader. We deserve a genre that still believes in fucking and falling in love.

When Did the Sexy Go Missing from the Romcom?

There was a time (say, the Nora Ephron era) when you could count on a romantic comedy to deliver heat. Maybe not explicit moaning-on-the-dining-table heat, but at least the slow build—the intense pauses, the romantic tension, the emotionally significant kiss in the rain. Now? We’re lucky if the leads even kiss with tongue. A few days ago, I watched a rom-com and didn’t even realize I missed the “sex scene” until the girl was pregnant!

Take a look at so-called “romantic comedies” like Your Place or Mine starring Reese Witherspoon and Ashton Kutcher—two certified hotties with the chemistry of wet LEGO—and yet, somehow, we're meant to believe they burned for each other? Whole movie, zero tension.

Horror Understands Sex Because It Understands Fear—And Desire Is Fear’s Slutty Sister

The horror genre, at its core, is obsessed with the body. It’s the only genre that regularly explodes, penetrates, and exposes it (literally and metaphorically). Sex isn’t an afterthought in horror; it's weaponized, celebrated, punished, and then reborn.

It Follows—a cursed STD ghost metaphor wrapped in an incisive exploration of teenage anxiety and desire. Or X, Ti West’s porno-slash-slasher buffet of boobs, blood, and geriatric lust. These movies don’t shy from sex—they interrogate it. And lately, they’re getting it right.

Compare this to The Kissing Booth 2, where not only is the sex implied, it's depressingly neutered—you’re told these two are in love, in bed, and in sync, but you never feel it. Meanwhile, Mia Goth’s primal scream in Pearl made more audiences squirm (and not just with fear).

Romcoms Are Afraid of the Fuck

In no small part, we can blame box office cowardice. Studios are terrified of female pleasure or queer intimacy sullying their slapstick romances. But horror? Horror has always been anti-authority, anti-sanitization, and deeply underground. Even in slashers, where the old “have sex, die” trope reigned, we’re seeing subversions. Films like The Final Girls no longer punish their protagonists for sexuality—they explore it with empathy and edge.

Romcoms have become the vanilla cupcake of film genres. Sweet, safe, mass-produced. But horror? It’s the decadent buffet served under flickering red neon lights—it gets messy, and that’s the whole point.

If horny horror has taught us one thing, it’s that desire can be messy and meaningful—bloody, beautiful, brutal. Romance doesn’t have to be sexless. In fact, it shouldn’t be. Dear reader, I’m not saying we need full penetration in every romcom (though I certainly wouldn’t complain), but we do need the energy. The courage. The sweat. With its post-coital glow and sharp teeth, horror is giving us the unapologetic sensuality that romcoms used to seduce us with and have since misplaced somewhere behind a PG rating and too many drone shots of New York.

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