As you've heard, I have a new erotica crush and her name is "Chelsea Girl"— the mystery woman behind the very hot Pretty Dumb Things blog.
On my audio show this week, I read aloud from her "9 Steps to Deep-Throating a Cock" essay, which should be made into a free pamphlet: the most practical blow-job tips you've heard in a long time. If only there was such a primer for deep-clit-swallowing!
In Bed with Susie Bright 257: Deepest Throat
When I read Miss Chelsea, it makes me wonder what it would be like to have an anonymous public diary where I could let it all hang out.
As you'll notice, I don't write about my sexual escapades unless:
a) I wouldn't mind my family, friends, and perhaps stunned strangers at an outdoor cafe hearing about them,
b) the adventures happened so long ago that the indiscretion factor has evaporated. The nice thing about being older, and having had sex for a long time, is that I do have a couple decades of back-story.
These two caveats leave open a lot of territory. My "job" doesn't require prudish discretion and coverups. My family is supportive, my friends are gracious, and I use a lot of pseudonyms and detail-switcheroos when I speak about anything might tread on someone else's toes. I've been talking about sex in public since I was 16, so it feels like "home."
But what would it be like to kiss and tell, under the cloak of a pen name?
I've never done that, despite prurient expectations. After I wrote my first few books, a new lover taunted me, "Oh I suppose you'll write all about this!"
That really threw me— and I felt threatened by the assumption. I've never talked about a sex scene without permission, and/or heavy fictionalization. The only way my doubter would get real-name publicity would be if they told everyone themselves... and that's happened a few times, much to my chagrin.
Why is sexual disclosure so potentially devastating, if puritan values aren't the issue?
For one, when I write something down, it makes it sound so permanent— and love lives rarely are. I'm still meeting people to this day, who think I'm a 23-year-old stone leather dyke, even though the book cover that gave them that impression is two decades old.
Secondly, when an artist describes a sexual experience, it's such a dream-like impression. If I say "Jane" was hot in the sack, and "Jack" failed to swallow my clit, does that give a fair impression of who they are, or what their next erotic experience will be like, with me or anyone else? Never!
Telling stories often involves the delivery of a judgment, a lesson, a resounding resolution... and I like that about stories. Chapters end— you reflect.
But life is soooooo much messier. I could write a thousand "factual" biographies about one bedroom and never get at the truth.
Still, it thrills me when I see anonymous bloggers bitching about their children, their lover's genitals, their shocking bad habits and perverse inclinations. It's like an endless parade of Valley of the Dolls, except for the frisson that— YOW!— this might be the girl next door, you never know.
Could I ever take the anonymous plunge? My practical answer is, "Hey! I don't have five minutes to spare."
But it's not just the time or money. Secret diaries would require me to deal with non-recognition, which would be like driving a stake through my heart. I can't write without feedback, and I hate being misunderstood. Anonymous writers, esp. sexual ones, don't get respect for their writing in the way they might deserve. Plus, I'd have manufactured a closet that I couldn't share with anyone, not even my dearest. That makes me somewhat panicky.
What do you do? Do any of you have a secret sex blog? A secret "anything" blog? What's it like having two lives, one of which exists exclusively on the Internet? Do you ever long to just blurt out everything? Have you ever gotten busted by someone who guessed the truth?
Who's a worse discover of a secret blog— your parents or your children? Inquiring minds would like to live vicariously through you!
Needless to say... you can comment here with a ridiculous phony name and address.
In my In Bed mailbag this week, I also offer some advice to a man who started wondering if his single-orgasm wife is suffering, because one of her girlfriends bragged at the dinner table that she comes a zillion times from the slightest touch. I say, this doesn't sound like a helpful or honest "friend"!
Don't forget, you can send your confidential questions, feedback about the show, and requests for "Girly Cards" to email@example.com. (Episode 257, July 21, 2006).