Letters to the Editor
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Sealing The Deal
"How about something juicy next time from a woman or a man who hasn't lead a formulaic life and who knows how to seal the deal?"
'The Litterbox Equation' is the unrelenting experience you are after then.
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what's interesting to me
(and so far, it seems no one has commented on) is that she makes a comment about trying and failing to achieve "sexual normalcy."
The girl doesn't seem to be having a whole lot of "innocent," youthful fun while hooking up with a Catholic Italian rapper in a train cabin. (Since they don't go all the way, it doesn't count, I guess...) She doesn't seem to be getting her kicks from the danger and seediness that are a part of one-night stands. (I too laughed at the "potential rapist" line.)
She's doing it because she's romanticized one-night stands as an integral part of the hip, post-modern women's experience, much the way girls in the past would romanticize aspects of the traditional white wedding.
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The Cum-Dumpster Monologues, Jr. Edition
What's so pathetic about this story is that it's about a girl who wants to have her body violated in some dispersonal way. She wants to be used by a guy. That is gross. And it speaks to what is wrong with America. And most of our women. Yuck.
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Wait...
Didn't I read this on livejournal? I thought the web 2.0 was giving content like this away for free, now, rather than paying people for it.
If you can get paid for this kind of stuff, I've got a career ahead of me, churning out all sorts of inconsequential, slightly nostalgic, mostly pleasant, wistful self-absorption!
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Enjoyed
I enjoyed it. It reminded me of my youth and my attempts to lose my innocence. Normally I wouldn't have written but the number of negative letters made me feel I needed to publish my positive reaction.
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Don't hate on Salon too much for this piece
(there's much better stuff to hate on Salon for, like their Clinton-Obama trolling). At least they got rid of Kansas O'Flaherty!
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P.S. Can her daddy get me a job, too?
No? Didn't think so. And that is what is wrong with publishing. It's a daddy's girl world.
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C'mon
She's doing it because she's romanticized one-night stands as an integral part of the hip, post-modern women's experience, much the way girls in the past would romanticize aspects of the traditional white wedding.
C'mon! This is light-hearted fictionalized biography a la Bridget Jones. She uses the idea of a hunt for a one-night stand as a device for telling some amusing tales, like giving herself to a Christian rapper who can't go all the way. This is more humor than autobiography, and no more historical than Chaucer's pilgrimage.
Compare the coy remarks about doing everything but with a back out and a neck out--which gives us a pretty good idea without going into too much anatomy with the grim reality of the best selling sex story of our time about a woman who can't get laid.
While the President continued talking on the phone (Ms. Lewinsky understood that the caller was a Member of Congress or a Senator), she performed oral sex on him. He finished his call, and, a moment later, told Ms. Lewinsky to stop. In her recollection: "I told him that I wanted . . . to complete that. And he said . . . that he needed to wait until he trusted me more. And then I think he made a joke . . . that he hadn't had that in a long time."
I guess most Salon readers would rather read Kenneth Starr or an instructional sex manual any day.
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The Coffee Equation
"The animosity probably IS a class and gender thing. The last time I remembered such venom was among catty high school girls. Maybe some of us cherish innocence."
The vast majority of us however, like a thoughtfully made latte, cherish a fine blend of entertainment and sincerity and only garnished with whip cream and syrup. Of course a little more never ruins it, but use real coffee beans.
Sloane has made a weak latte using Sanka, skim milk and five tablespoons of Splenda that nobody ordered, and the consensus is it probably doesn't belong featured above the steamed milk in bright letters..
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Sloane Crosley.
Some articles @ www.com. Salon make me wonder if I'm reading while I'm a crying aloud ?
Maybe what was missing was the tortilla chips ---?--- Yet, if the refrigerator was empty,
only, I am only suggesting,
need be filled with homemade apple pie with brown butter crust for those mid-romp-breaks,
and the amorous event ?
need not traumatize ya?
I make a good apple pie.
Yet, it's not that perfect.
The article is stimulating.
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Friend of the Court
C'mon! This is light-hearted fictionalized biography a la Bridget Jones.
I guess most Salon readers would rather read Kenneth Starr or an instructional sex manual any day.
How about literature? That could also be an option.
The problem is that the premiss isn't credible. A pretty woman does not have difficulty getting one-night stands. A pretty woman gets so many offers she has to work to avoid them.
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The Litterbox Effect
Fine.
I'll write MY story and send it in to Salon. It'll beat this one flat. Sweet, bittersweet, and horrific by turns. Men will shake their heads. Women will cry. Poets will wonder. The blind will see. Unicorns will shyly wander up and lay their heads in your lap.
And it won't be fiction.
My ex's cat will end you.
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This piece is really less fluffy than it seems.
Really, how often do any of us pick up a magazine (e or otherwise) and read an essay that touches on women's (a woman's) expectations of what constitutes "normal sexuality?" Crosley's idea that every young woman "needs" to have a one night stand is just one example.
And for those who are whining about fluffiness or navel-gazing-- heaven forbid that a human being should search for meaning in her experiences, especially in regard to something as trivial as sex.
I imagine that if everyone here really thought about it, we would all be forced to admit that sexuality-- both our own and sexuality in general-- is a much different thing that we thought in earlier years. Everyone's perception of sexuality changes, I hope, and in our younger years, it changes especially often. Crosley's experience is, essentially, the same thing that happened to everyone in college, whether you were a virgin all four years or you slept with your school's entire football team.