oh, just another post about sex.

As hard as I tried to come up with something creative, interesting and (even a little) original to blog about, I am stuck on the one and only topic that seems to be on everyone's mind, all the time: sex. Now, before I come off as some sort of sex obsessive, let me explain.

I am bombarded by it all the time. No, no, not men simply throwing themselves at me and pleading for it (which obviously is a UGE problem for me), but it's just about all I talk about, read about, and yes, (how embarassing) think about. But it's not just sex - that's what it boils down to - but sexual relationships in general. Why are they so complicated? And so frustrating? And worst of all, so fucking addicitive?

A couple friends and I went out to dinner last night, and entered our latest round of I-hate-guys-but-love-them-oh-so-much after a day of consulting and complaining with my co-workers about their love dilemmas. L is seeing some great guy she's been into for 6 months, and now that he's pursuing her, she feels "overwhelmed" by it all and needs to work on her "own timeline." M continues to hook up with a loser, who we'll refer to as Pukey, even though he's stood her up, disappears for weeks at a time, and definitely has a drinking problem and/or personality disorder (my diagnosis, but a valid one). As much as I see M's flaw in continuing to see Pukey, I cringe to admit - I used to do the same exact thing.

My friend from college, Rebs, now living in Israel (she followed her boyfriend there, broke up with him, and now is onto the next) passed along her newest "time waster" for me to indulge in: New York Mag's Sex Diaries, which I've spent the past 3 hours reading. If you haven't done it yet - DO IT. While spending 3 hours reading about the tawdry details of strangers sex lives may seem another factor in my fascination with sex, it also confirmed for me what I've been saying all along: everyone is obsessed with it.

But it wasn't always this way. It's our technological status that's made us this way. I don't claim that past generations weren't equally fascinated by sex, it's just that... they were less accessible to it. As my friends confirmed for me last night, their "relationships" with the guys they're seeing would be non-existent without text messages or email. Bye bye booty call. And I'm not playing innocent here, either; I've definitely sent the 2AMer one too many times, only to erase it the next morning as if the blatant sexual invite never happened (that gets erased on the receiver's phone, too, right?) What about the days of liking someone, and making plans, and dating, and saying goodnight and meaning it? Somehow I imagine everyone I know (myself included) would have far less trouble if everything went back to the days of landlines and you went home with someone directly after seeing them.

And then the oh-so-innocent-but-so-annoying contact. I have yet another first date to go on tonight (will I EVER like someone?) and this dude will not stop texting me. Last guy I liked, similar to Pukey, could never contact me enough. This guy texts me one more time, and I'm gonna have to cancel. The texts of desperation do not a desirable date make.

I'm not sure where all this leaves us - don't ever send another drunk text (impossible) or ignore those annoying texts (who's not passing up a free dinner? THIS GIRL). In the wise words of my particularly man-hating friend: do whatever the fuck you want, because in the end, you're fucked either way.