Sex chat book
Few places are less conducive to erotic optimism than the packed waiting room of a public health clinic in Brooklyn. Though she had spent the ensuing months hooking up with various acquaintances, her hopes were set on long-term monogamy.Sitting on a hard plastic chair under a fluorescent buzz as an employee lectures on proper condom use—a catechism you know by heart yet sometimes fail to heed—you may conclude, as Emily Witt did, that the time has come to change your life. Just before Valentine’s Day, Witt had slept with a friend. A few weeks later, he called to report that he might have chlamydia. “I still envisioned my sexual experience eventually reaching a terminus, like a monorail gliding to a stop at Epcot Center,” Witt writes in “Future Sex” (Farrar, Straus & Giroux), her gutsy first book.She was raised by liberal boomer parents who came of age in the sixties.Influenced by that decade’s liberties, and chastened by its excesses, they encouraged her to think of youthful sexual experimentation as a healthy prelude to a coupled life. For young, straight, well-educated American women, sleeping around for pleasure and experience has become a social convention, the way dancing the cotillion at a débutante ball once was. Following her visit to the clinic, she fantasized about giving herself over to “the project of wifeliness,” as she saw many of her peers doing, indulging in the sort of triumphal social-media posts—engagement photos, wedding photos, baby photos—that advertise the twenty-first-century life cycle of young couples. ’ There’s a pause, then a not exactly gushing response: ‘You dirty girl.’ Obviously, it’s no award-winning Shakespearean romance but intuition is key. She continues: ‘I’m a dirty slut, I like it all, will you do things to me, I’m 18?Never before has a single writer elaborated on the steamy, anonymous goings-on of gay men in subterranean London with such psychological and physical honesty.“It is a gay sex memoir that miraculously manages to go beyond sensationalist arousal…
Covering the first six months of 2010, the book is also a chronicle of a year in which an earthquake devastated Haiti, floods wrecked large parts of Pakistan, and Eyjafjallajàkull erupted.
Paperback, 72 pages (Kiss & Tell Press, 2011) A first-hand account of what goes on in London’s saunas and sex clubs, and on phone-sex chat-lines.
Generous and intimate details, as well as a no holds barred exploration of promiscuity, is also the story of artists in London.
“So when he sat me down one day to tell me he was a sex addict, I actually laughed – although I soon stopped when he disclosed night upon night of watching pornography for hours on end and numerous short-lived affairs.
My life fell apart.” Sex addiction hurts partners in a way that no other addiction can, says Paula Hall, who has written a book on the subject.
As Witt’s image of the Epcot monorail suggests, she preferred to see it as an endpoint, the moment that would bring the aimless liaisons of her single years to a full stop.