What It Really Means to Be a Female Sex Writer

by Kristie LeVangie

This article was inspired by a discussion I had with a fellow sex writer on the perceptions, rumors and issues facing women writing about sexual topics.  We are both single, both sex writers and both face relationship-establishing issues because of it.

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No profession is more over-glamorized than that of a sex writer.  Think about it.  You probably imagine some artsy loft with pallets, heavy velvet curtains, and a woman, half-dressed, a vodka rocks in one hand, a cigarette in the other and her silk robe is hanging off her shoulder.  Of course her hair is disheveled and pulled up behind her head and held with a pencil.  She strikes keys feverishly recounting the details of how this afternoon’s lover just banged the shit out of her.  She gets paid tons of money, takes on lovers she meets throughout her lazy days, and ferociously chases new experiences to improve her story content.

I have no doubt, because I’ve heard it myself, that this IS the image people have of me…especially men.  Because add dating to a passion for artistic sexual expression and…

Most men don’t get it.  They never try.  They assume I am recording their every move and reacting for the sake of storylines.  Most only want to be captured in print.  Few rarely are.

Ironically those that are rarely read the things written about them.

They assume I write about graphic sex acts and am a complete nymphomaniac.  Shall I dare even say SLUT?  Oh, I could regal you with some stories here, but I’ll let the grapevine fill in the latest sexual rumor.  (Did you hear that Kristie LeVangie _____________ (fill in the blank)?)

They assume I fall for every piece of dick I meet, and that every man captivated by my words or pictures that lays claim to fucking me, has.  They have even assumed I am disease-ridden, a human vile of STD’s, because I must practice all I write about.  Right?

They assume I have no feelings beyond sexual desire.  Besides sex is all ANYONE ever associates with you.

They also assume ALL you write about is sex.

They assume I am incapable of being innocent, nurturing or a loving partner and mother.

They assume you know EVERYTHING about sex.  People divulge their innermost sexual issues to you.  People you barely know.  People that may know you through your writing.  And I’m talking TMI information!  …But you smile and nod.  You assure them they are normal and send them to a random website you used once in research thinking it might have an answer.

You weed through a thousand “U R HOTT” emails a day.

You get dick pictures in the middle of the night via email.

You work long lonely hours in front of your computer.

You juggle another job, because the money is meager.  You can’t afford Manolo Blahniks, Carrie Bradshaw!

No matter how good a person you are, people will tear you down.  Nothing delights them more than to create fantastic stories of acts or ideas that you may, or may not, have ever done, influenced or provoked.

You don’t live a naked life.  You prefer yoga pants and a comfortable Old Navy tee.

You get whispers AND accolades from complete strangers– the shame and pride rollercoaster.

You put yourself out there through your writing and open yourself up to criticism.  And anyone that chooses to love you should grow a tough skin as well. They are not free from the crossfire.

You can never be sure if you are a “conquest” for a lover or a genuine interest.  Everyone wants bragging rights, and it’s rarely a genuine interest.

And finally, all of us are not gorgeous semantic glamazons.  We are normal women, writing about the experiences, fantasies and innermost thoughts of normal women.

Cigarettes?  On occasion.

Vodka rocks?  On occasion.

Lingerie?  It’s as uncomfortable to write in as it is to do other stuff.

False perceptions?  Most definitely!

And finally, no matter how hard you try to explain your “normality”, no one will ever listen.

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