As soon as you commit erotic keystroke to computer screen, you’re signing a contract that makes you think and feel something, usually buried deep inside your fecund mind. Most people find themselves unwilling to carry that burden of revelation, to share it with the world, and to expose themselves in the multiple ways they have to in order to write about sex for very long.

Not only does writing about sex change the way you think about sex, but it changes the sex you have. I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve been fucking my lover and simultaneously narrating in my head our sex. It’s a weird fucking sensation, this double consciousness of doing and narrating, and it gets in the way of really enjoying the fucking. All of a sudden, the fucking is “about” something. It has to fit into a narrative structure. It’s limited, predetermined, finished before it’s over, and my pleasure with it. It’s a fucking loss. A loss that keeps on losing.

There are hosts of reasons not to write a sex blog—reasons I’ve outlined here, and ones I’ve hinted at. You can—and probably will—be read by someone you don’t want to read your writing. You will experience the big fat Freudian fear/wish dynamic about readership, both hoping that people will read and being anxious when they do. You will feel compromised, you will feel unsettled, you won’t easily be able to identify why. You will feel like the girl in the middle of the fantasy gang-bang, both titillated and shamed, at least if you’re anything like me. And then you'll feel as if some Japanese tour bus is driving through your bedroom and snapping pictures. It's a tad disorienting to feel as if the digital world is gaping at your cervix through the speculum of your blog. Not everyone can, or should be, an Annie Sprinkles.

It’s fucking hard to write honestly about fucking. However, I will tell you this: it’s worth it. At the end of the day, or in the middle of it, when I think about what would mark my presence on this wet blue earth if a safe dropped from the sky and squashed me flat as Wile E. Coyote, a few things come to mind: my friends and my lover, my dog, the students I’ve helped become better writers, and this blog. I’m proud of what I’ve written, and I’m proud of it all in no small part because I’ve written it at great personal price...