I expected some mild backlash to come my way when I began writing Sow 'Em. I also underestimated it.

I intentionally didn't tell my ex about the column; he found out about it on his own. Even though I would never use his name, he is embarrassed since mutual friends read and know when I'm writing about him. To boot, he obviously cringes when reading about my involvement with other people. Understandable. And the girl I was seeing told me that she avoided reading because she was uncomfortable hearing about how much I relish life's more phallic pleasures. Again, understandable.

But…come the fuck on.

So here is the dilemma: can a sex columnist ever find love? (Carrie Bradshaw and Big are fictional characters, so that delivers no comfort.) And not just sex columnists, necessarily. What about any hypersexual person with a raunchy sense of humor and underdeveloped verbal filter?

In my experience, the novelty of it all only gets me so far. It gets me in the door. I am pegged as being "funny," "intriguing," "refreshing." But alas, my proposed dinner table conversation topics (butt sex technique, the hilarity of pillow-humper porn, "who would you rather fuck…Ross Perot or Janet Reno?") make people blush.

My acapella rendition of Peaches’ Fuck the Pain Away gets annoying. My willingness to discuss my sex life wears on the person I'm fucking. I've been asked on numerous occasions, "Is nothing sacred to you?"

Uncensored, I'm not the kind of girl you take home to mom. More notably, my demeanor often makes love interests feel as if I'm not the kind of girl that can be trusted. (And people wonder why I have cheated. If I know I'm not trusted in the first place, it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy.)

Where are the potential suitors who can embrace my vulgarity, my persistent libido, my knack at turning the benign into the perverse? Where are the people who will laugh with me, and not get irritated or sensitive or insecure? Where are the people who are able to play along when my best friend and I drink two bottles of wine and create elaborate, foul, and horrifying bedroom scenarios involving Kim Kardashian and Reggie Bush? Where are the people who won't judge me when I say that -- yeah -- I've had Chlamydia, won’t think less of my friend when she talks about having an abortion, won't deem me weird because I watch porn while I use an industrial strength power tool of a vibrator?

Where are the people who understand that interest in and amusement by sexuality doesn't compromise one’s level of intelligence?

Are you out there? You know how to contact me.

Yours,

Avoine.



What's your pleasure? Got a problem? Write to Avoine at AvoineSauvage@CrabbyGolightly.com