Blogging

Sex blogs, like rock bands, burn bright and flame out. I miss the ones that are gone.

A manual, of sorts, inspired by Hyacinth, on keeping secrets, not being a dick, and defining success downward.

Ten reasons, ranging from the noble to the narcissistic.

A retraction, a clarification, and an invitation.

I used to be able to stalk you so elegantly, but Woopra wants $40 a month for the privilege now.

What you read here and when I wrote it may have little to do with each other.

Someone’s threatening my friend Hy’s anonymity from behind a cowardly pseudonymous veil of her own, and it’s got me thinking about the ethics of writing about sex you’ve actually had.

A roll call of my most devoted readers, and a nakedly narcissistic plea to know what keeps them coming back.

A Playboy mention, some flattering analytics, and a meditation on what happens when strangers actually stick around.

The evolution of my feelings about sex blog rankings: from desperate for recognition, to bitter about insufficient recognition, to something approaching genuine indifference.