The Next Carrie Bradshaw?

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"I'm not a writer -- I'm a sexual anthropologist." -- Carrie Bradshaw

There's probably not a person in the US that's not familiar with Sex and the City -- the wildly popular series about a female foursome living and loving in the Big Apple. And while each of the characters struck a chord for the show's thousands of fans, no one stoked the creative fires inside like Carrie Bradshaw.

I mean really...who didn't want to be Carrie? Who wouldn't want to write about sex and relationships and have an audience hang on your every exploit? Luckily for us verbal voyeurs, blogging (aka online journaling) was springing onto the scene and making that fantasy a reality.

Now, you can't double-click or mouseover on the Internet without finding a blog about a person's every secret desire, mundane detail or juicy fight, some with the same fervor as the fictional New York Star columnist herself. And honestly, there's just something so sexy about being able to express yourself and ideas in writing that this author just loves. But while writing about your love and sex life can be exciting and cathartic, but can also come with a price.

I spare no modesty when it comes to documenting my sexual exploits. Take my latest conquest, a thick-dicked youngster I met at a networking event a few weeks ago. We spied each other from across the room and eventually made small talk before getting to the good stuff.

"So what do you like to do?" he asked coyly.

"I write," giving him a little wink while brushing the side of my glasses.

Who knew that would perk enough interest for a marathon sex romp a few hours later?

He knew that I would write about sex. Not necessarily our sex, but dabbling in gay erotica was something I did often, and watching him read my words online and get hard stroked more than my ego. Four paragraphs in and he's ready for action. Viagra couldn't bring that kind of guarantee. I even wrote a story about us meeting under a more fictional circumstance (the supermarket) with him testing the firmness of my plantain and me feeling his supple melons.

Hot, no?

But like I said, there's a price when it comes to writing about sex, at least when you do it a lot. Whether it's fiction or not, people will start to stereotype and compartmentalize your likes and dislikes based on it. "Oh, he writes about sex? What a whore." How that happens, I don't know. Soon, my current fuckbuddy started to echo those sentiments. One day while we're watching TV he asks why I like to write about sex so much.

"Well it's not 'so much'...I write about what I love. And I love sex."

"But do you have to do it so much? I mean, what if someone reads it?"

"So what if someone reads it? If they can get off like you and I do about the real thing, then more power to them."

"I think you're just using me as fodder for your little stories and your readers."

"It's not like that." But it was too late. The phone calls eventually stopped, as did us getting together to do the do. Even when I told him I wouldn't write about it, he wouldn't believe it. As he put it, the sex was good, but he was looking for release, not a press release. I know how Carrie feels.



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