by Wendy Strgar January 24, 2008
I was recently introduced to one of the prima sex bloggers. A mutual friend sent her some of my writing and she was intrigued. I hadn’t looked at her blog until today when she offered me a handout that she had written about how to become the sex blogger you have always dreamed of. She mentioned some of the bloggers that she liked to read also, so I went exploring and I realized again, why I write about love and sex the way I do and am not really a fit in the sex blog category.
The names of the bloggers she gave me were names like Sugarbutch, Funky Brown Chick or Jefferson so I asked her whether all the bloggers wrote anonymously. They all do, she told me, because bloggers have lost their jobs or been sued for their writing. When I looked at the writing I could see why they might not want everyone they know to know it was them writing.
I visited many blogs that were linked through the www.thesexcarnival.com and wondered again how I could be in the business of love products and so uncomfortable with the exhibitionist images and language that makes up the sex market. Even blogs called the happy marriage described the couples exploits in titillating images on the dining room table- lasting all night and then again the next day. You have to wonder just how far the comfort of anonymity can take someone, they used fake names, could the descriptions not be at least partly imaginary too? I mean how do married couples have the time to do that? I mean what about sleeping and jobs and grocery shopping?
Its not that the dining room scene didn’t intrigue me, or that some of the images papering the borders of the content didn’t remind me of some distant fantasy in my own late night wanderings, but there is a public/private line about sex that is very confusing in these sex blogs for me. And I don’t think it is just me, the line gets so pushed out of proportion, the exhibitionist adult industry takes up so much space in our culture that for many of us that don’t go there, finding access to fantasy and our own imagination that is not cluttered with other people’s voices/images is a more and more challenging place to find.
I am sure that reading about other people’s sex lives, real or imagined can turn on many a random stranger, but its nothing compared to the garden variety sex with someone who looks in your eyes with love when they penetrate you and finds your center.
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