I always knew that I was one of many—one in a long line of sex columnists. One of the many young women who have turned to writing about tittilation, teasing and testicles after the
Sex and the City blew up all over everything.
The picture to the left features six more of my kind. The one thing that separates me from them, however (besides the American border), is the way we approach writing about sex. While these women happily share details about their own sex life, I never have (maybe some things have slipped out, or could be gleaned from my writings). This is partially out of respect for my partner—who'd rather I didn't—and partially for my own sake. You see, because there are many women all over the world who are now writing about sex, I don't have to be another one to share my sexual triumphs and mishaps. Maybe it's not as exciting as reading about slippery thighs or broken
condoms or embarrassing queefs (vaginal farts), but I've always been more interested in the broader issues. I guess I figure that the small details of my sex life are not all that important to anyone but me (and my partner, I damn well hope). Well, and there are some things I want to keep as my own.
So, if any of you have ever wondered why I don't write about my own sex life, that's why. And well, there are enough people doing that already—there's room enough for all of us!
The women above were gathered for a sex-columnist roundtable discussion (my invite must have been lost in the mail...) for
New York magazine. It seemed to get a little catty (fantastic!), and it's fun to see what other sex writers are up to. And, it was part of a larger mating issue by the mag—there's a whole mess of great sex-related stories in there.
Visit it here.
PS - Just to add to the cattiness, while these women seem to be getting enough sex to at least write about it, some of them sure could use a little help in the fashion department. Yikes!