When my marriage was running on fumes, my ex-husband would send me to Victoria's Secret with instructions to pick out something to his liking. 'Red,' he would say. Or 'animal print.' Or, finally, in desperation: 'anything you want,' which at that point was nothing that might lead to sex, the sex that was between two people with wildly incompatible desires and personas.
The bottom line is this: If the media covers someone who comes out as intersex, it is its responsibility to educate itself about what that means. In Chandler's case, although some outlets did cover the term correctly, the majority failed. This is deplorable. Why? Because it just reinforces stereotypes.
By agreeing to help me with post-coital care and attempting to understand the realities of my disability, he was being more intimate with me than any one-night stand had ever been. And I was showing him my true self, my vulnerabilities and my realness. My disability and all that it encompasses were laid bare without apology or exception.
I am well aware that any depiction of human relationships in a novel cannot ignore the fact that sex, however described or disguised, is a primal motivating condition of our existence. Indeed, even if the act itself is not referred to in action or description, it is always there, however coded, and can't be ignored by reader or writer.