Mr. Sexsmith’s Other Girlfriend #2: Five Ways to Improve Your Sex Life

Five Ways to Improve Your Sex Life
February 10, 2010
Mr. Sexsmith’s Other Girlfriend for SexIs

I won’t lie: Sex has saved me. From myself especially. From going so deep into the spirals of my own brain which could drive me crazy. But when everything is perfect, there is no mind in sex. There is just feeling; just the body, moving, stretching, pulling, reaching, opening, pulsing, listening, taking, giving; just sensation.

And that’s precisely what I need on days where my mind is racing and I’ve spent one or two or eight too many hours in front of the computer screen, the only sensations being my ass going numb, my eyes getting tired and sticky with lack of lubricant, and my fingertips tip-tapping away at these little lettered keys. I live in my mind. Don’t most of us, these days? Most of us, anyway, who would be readers of a sexy intelligent site like this one.

Sex has saved me from that inward spinning. Palming the responsibility of someone else’s bruises jolts me up and out of my brain and reminds me that I am connecting; I am pounding out ripples with everything that I touch.

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Mr. Sexsmith’s Other Girlfriend #1: The Myth of New York

The Myth of New York
February 3, 2010
Mr. Sexsmith’s Other Girlfriend for SexIs

If New York City was on Facebook, our relationship status would say “It’s Complicated.” I love her, I do; I have idolized her since I was a kid, watching all my favorite cheesy eighties movies like Big Business, The Secret of My Success, and Big, over and over again. Our culture mythologizes her, paints her as the place to be, so full of potential. She might even be The One.

Everyone comes to New York seeking something very similar: belonging. Especially in the communities in which I run—the queer, the kinky, the subversive, the social change junkies—we have all come from other places, other more small-minded, limited, restrictive places, hoping that the Great Mythology of New York will hold true for us, too: “Give me your tired, your poor, / Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free …” wrote Emma Lazarus in her famous poem “The New Colossus,” printed on the Statue of Liberty.

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