Anonymity
So a long time ago when the earth had barely cooled down, I decided I wanted to write for Cant even though I didn't think I could keep up with "all the boys" in their wry witticisms and rants about the banalities of minutiae. And I thought, well, what do I like to talk about? Sex, of course. But I can't talk about my sex life if people who know me and my husband are going to be reading it. They would get icked out. I would feel inhibited. So I chose a pseudonym, one to reflect my lusty side. A name I could hide behind, yet be brash and brazen and bold.
But then I made a fatal mistake. I wanted recognition. I told people who I was. And now, as I feared, I feel inhibited and afraid of icking people out or being too graphic. Sure, it's ok to talk about cervical mucous in the abstract, but not my own personal mucous.
So now I can't hide, I'm exposed, and I'm nervous. Afraid of you all, an invisible audience of about 3 people, maybe 4 on a good day. Truly, sometimes I think the only people who read Cant are the authors. Which isn't a bad thing, just a weird thing, in terms of anonymity and cervical mucous and whatnot.
Anyway. So maybe I should stop using a pseudonym and change names to my usual login name. Or maybe I should take a cue from my pseudonym and actually BE more bold and brash and daring and devil-may-care-what-you-think about my sex life and fantasies and cervical fluid. See, because here's the problem. I've kind of taken a sabbatical from Cant lately. Most of my writing juices have been consumed by various projects, school and work and belly dance. But then in my spare time, I've also taken up journal writing again. And, more to the point, writing smut.
Yes, no longer content to read smut that doesn't leave me quite satisfied, I've taken matters into my own hands. Everyone always says that everyone has fantasies and that it's normal and blah blah blah. Well, I've decided to start writing mine down, because I've noticed that sometimes, years later, I can't quite remember how they go anymore. Nothing more frustrating than the fantasy that you kind of remember, but then gets fuzzy on the details just as things start to heat up.
So what do I do, post my journal rantings to Cant? No way, Jose. I write a lot of heat-of-the-moment, I-don't-really-mean-this-but-damn-it-feels-good-to-write-it-down things (while humming the "Damn it feels good to be a Gangsta" song from the movie "Office Space"). So not unless I'm willing to burn a bunch of bridges, presuming of course that the people I'm writing about even read Cant. But just in case, I'm saying no anyway. Smut, then? What could be more appropriate for Wanton Hussy? But but but, sputters my inhibited little brain. Then everyone will SEE.
Well, take a good, long, hard look. I found some cajones, and I'm not afraid to use them (not much). Starting in January, this column becomes officially smutty. For a while, at least; probably not forever. Many columns will probably be serials, hopefully not killing any chances of actually getting really published elsewhere, just in case. Yes, they will be cheesy. Yes, they will be filled with throbbing loins and heaving bosoms. But no one will 'cum' because I hate that word with a purple passion.
So if you don't want to read my smut, or you think you'll feel weird seeing me at parties later, or you're going to start wondering "Hey, does she really like it rough?" or "her husband must have a huge cock," then please stop reading.
But if you like it… let me know.