I am a sex geek. Like any other brand of geek this means I tend to obsess over my topic of choice and pretty much anything else even tangentially related. I read about it, attend lectures and events, watch documentaries and related media1, listen to podcasts, collect swag,2 write about it, talk about and intellectualize it more than anyone reasonably should.
Because that’s how being a geek works.
Now typically being a geek also means spending countless hours pouring over the source material. Ask a Harry Potter fan how many times they’ve read the books and they’re bound to have hit at least double digits, plus any self respecting gamer has 100%-ed their favorite game at least once. A good friend of mine and dedicated Trekkie once watched 8 of the movies in one day. I believe Netflix nearly staged an intervention.
You see where I’m going with this right?
As a sex geek my “source material” is a little more awesome than most. I guess it’s easy to understand why people assume that sex bloggers, educators, and sex geeks spend every night in sexy bacchanals, dark dungeons, and porn shoots. To think we spend our lives with naked sexy people at our fingertips 24 hours a day and struggle to even leave the house because that would mean that we have to *gasp* put on pants.
Let’s be honest though, for almost all of us that couldn’t be farther from the truth, well except for maybe that last bit about the pants. Like any other facet of the internet, we sex bloggers show you what we want you to see, we share the fun bits, the sexy bits, and more importantly, the interesting bits. All of our content is carefully curated to make us look like exactly the person we want you to think we are.
A few weeks ago, a 6 year long relationship I was in ended. That relationship was profoundly unhealthy for a whole slew of reasons which I won’t get in to, but was also, by the end, almost entirely sexless.3 And well, that’s pretty much my entire sexual history for you. Six years of progressively less and less vanilla sex with a cis man.
To say my experience is limited would be an understatement.
Now obviously the end of a relationship is often difficult for anyone, and I’m sure I’ll be working through some feels from this for a pretty long time, but right now, I’m doing pretty okay. I’m choosing to see this as an opportunity, the chance to explore the many sexy things I had felt I’d missed out on in the past.
Which in and of itself brings up a whole other slew of questions about what that means for my little corner of the internet. You see, my complete lack of a partnered sex life was not the only reason that I didn’t talk about my personal experience here, but it did make the decision pretty easy. With this wide open sky of sexy possibility laid out in front of me, things became a little less clear.
I sat down and really thought about why I believed my own experience was off limits and I realized that my biggest fear was a loss of respect, that by telling my own story I was being “unprofessional”. Somewhere along the way I had developed some bullshit hierarchy of sex blogging– “Well sure I talk about sex” I told myself “but it’s educational and intellectual, I don’t just peddle mindless wank fodder.”4
Which might I reiterate again: is complete and utter bullshit.
I’ve always believed that storytelling is a valuable source of connection and education, so why did this suddenly not apply to sex? I built this site as a space to talk about sex. I believe that by simply fostering conversation we can normalize sex and begin to eradicate the shame and fear that surrounds it. I want to connect with people through my experience and the experience of others to let them know that they are not alone.
I mean, shit have you read my About Page? It seems I had this figured out six months ago and managed to completely forget it all since then.
Somewhere along the way I decided that my discussion of sex had to be sanitized for consumption. That it had to be intellectual and universal, written in a way that was palatable and safe. I was stripping it of it’s humanity. But the thing is, sex is all about humanity. It’s unpredictable and erratic and sometimes it’s problematic, and that’s part of what makes it so damn fascinating.
So yes, I’m going to start writing about my sex life and exploration here, whatever may come of it. I’m calling it my #QueerSexAdventure and I’m inviting you to come along.
I’m going to talk about things I’d like to experience, and things I’m experiencing for the first time. I want to include the awkward, the sincere, the disappointing, and the joyous. I want to be as authentic as possible with you.
It’s not going to be erotica, it’ll still probably be more intellectual than anything because that’s just how my mind works. I’ll probably talk too much about things that seem obvious, and over analyze until stories just can’t be broken down anymore. It might be funny, rant-y, or something else entirely, but it will always be genuine.
It will also always be about me. I don’t plan on writing about other people without their consent or making anyone uncomfortable. I’m more interested in this being an introspective project about my own experience with this adventure and the feelings and thoughts I’ve associated with it, because I’m sure there will be plenty.
And if you don’t want to read it? Great! Don’t! There will still be plenty of articles, how-tos, and reviews popping up here on the regular and all of these posts will be organized in the #QueerSexAdventure category. You might want to mute that tag on your social media as well.
As for the rest of you, I look forward to having you along for the ride!
- Which sometimes means porn, because my brand of geekery is AWESOME. [↩]
- Dildos. This means dildos. But also books and plushies, and buttons, and shirts and all the things. [↩]
- This is not to say that relationships without sex are inherently unhealthy, but for myself, in this relationship, it was. [↩]
- P.S.: I totally love mindless wank fodder. [↩]