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Living In Sin: To Do Her, To Do Her Not
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Sex is something that drives us, empowers us and gets us into really stupid situations with people we have no business seeing naked. Jen Sincero is the bestselling author and sexpert with the carnal knowledge you need. Ask her your questions (all are posted anonymously). Cuz there's no such thing as being too good in bed.
Dear Jen:
I'm a twenty-six-year-old lesbian who has a feckin' huge crush on a straight girl -- the losing your appetite, writing stupid poetry, going-wobbly-at-the-knees-at-the-mere-sight-of-her kind of crush. She knows all about it (although I don't know if she knows how serious I am), and we laugh about it even though it's a little awkward.
Recently she's been hinting that she wouldn't mind experimenting with me, even though she's pretty sure that she's not attracted to me emotionally and might just be in it for the sex. I'm totally lost. I'd love to sleep with her, but I also have an annoying tendency to attach to the people who share my bed, and I'm afraid that if we had sex, I'd fall (more) in love with her and things would become a real mess. Meanwhile, the other half of my brain is screaming "Go for it!" because she makes me hotter than anyone I've ever known and I'd have to be a total idiot not to take what I can get. What should I do?
- Can't See Straight
Dear Straight,
Ain't life cruel? It's constantly wagging stuff in our faces like hot married people, Vicodin, fast cars, hot crazy people, corndogs, $700 shoes, casinos, cigarettes, two-for-one corndogs and countless other things that can provide a serious rush of instant gratification but which wind up costing us dearly down the road.
This morning my cat woke me up at 5:45 with his "gotta poop, gotta poop right now" little circle dance that he does on my chest when he needs to be let out/scare the hell out of me (I'd rather be jumped in my sleep than have a litterbox, you see.) I'd had a pretty late night, but when I opened the door and saw the full moon still high in the sky and that golden, other-worldly light from the sunrise starting to take over I so wanted to go out in it. But I was really really tired, a little hungy wungy and it was chilly out there. Luckily, not only did I have very little time to negotiate with the come-hitherings of my bed due to the quickly rising sun, but all my clothes from the night before were conveniently laid out on the floor so all I had to do was put them back on. Which I did. And I soon found myself on my bike, riding alongside an ocean that looked like it was on another planet with a big, cheese-eatin grin on my face.
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For me, this is Thrillsville, yet I can count on one hand the number of times I've dragged my ass out of bed early enough to do this. Which brings me to the topic of self-discipline. I feel like self-discipline has a torturous, fun-free, anti beer-for-breakfast type of reputation. Meanwhile, every time you practice it you're basically doing something good for yourself. You are a disciple of yourself, if I may be so bold. You love your own flowing robes and will do whatever it takes to support and honor your journey through this life. I'm still gonna have a Bud with my cereal every once in a while, but I know the more I do what makes me happiest and healthiest, the better off I'll be.
I salute you for admitting that if you sleep with this chick you're setting yourself up for months, maybe even years, of torture, depending on how hot she thinks the sex is. Especially when it's so tempting to pretend you could handle it. But remember, they're called "crushes" for a reason. If you want to live through this one without getting totally flattened, I suggest you start limiting your hang time, refrain from drinking alcohol in her presence and date as many hot lesbians as you can get your hands on. Immediately. But it's really up to you. You have to decide if the thrill of nailing the object of your desire outweighs the straight-girl "I'm Into You, I'm Into You Not" back and forths you'll no doubt be setting yourself up for fer fek only knows how long. Yes, there is that chance that once she gets a taste she'll trade in her straight ways for more curvacious ones, but she doesn't sound as open to that idea as I'd like her to be. I say forgo the corndog and have a salad. It's not as tasty in the moment, but you won't be doubled over in pain down the road. May the force be with you! I'monna go pick my clothes up off the floor now....
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