What, me speak?

A sometime colleague just asked me to read dirty works at some crazy gathering called “In the Flesh.” My dirty works, no less. I told her this might be difficult, as I don’t really write smut and I haven’t gotten any action in months.*

In my head, this gathering is full of militant lesbians and poetesses, and then I’m going to go up there and what? Talk about strip clubs and Cabo bars? I don’t really see the lesbians loving that.

What else…?

Oh, I know. I’ll tell them all about that cute young neighbor who I didn’t sleep with, and then he disappeared forever.  Yawn.

Maybe I should just go the extra distance and write an original kinky porno swashbuckler, specifically for my harp-playing, hairy-armpit lady friends. (These two things seem to go with being a poetess, for reasons I know not.) The thing is… I don’t know if I could read it out loud. Or listen to it.

I know. I’ll download dirty limericks off the Internet and recite them. Brilliant! I love limericks! Problem solved.

At any rate, jeez. I think where I’m going with this is, I don’t mind blogging or writing columns about quasi-personal stuff sometimes. Even though it gets me in trouble, and very probably has had something to do with my diminishing number of dates. It’s still fun. But I don’t think I can write a whole essay–particularly not of the deep, emotional, embarrassing or sweaty variety–and then deliver it out loud. I would feel a fool.

And I’m not 100% sure, but it seems almost definite that the only people who would be interested in participating in these readings, or listening to them, or–gahhh!–discussing them would be wiomen. Right? Men would rather just watch a porno. Sooo….my question is, where’s the fun in reading sexy stuff and getting all dirty-librarian if there are no men around to to share it with? I’m sorry, but flirting is wasted on other women.

Anyway, I’m not really seeing the point of this event, unless you’re just one of those people who really likes the sound of your own voice–or one of those who thinks it promotes “personal growth.”  I’ll still do it, to help a friend–I’ll print those limericks out now–but I’m mentally prepping already for the agony of being TMId in literary ways by a bunch of total strangers.

*Okay. Maybe a tiny bit, of the FWB variety, but that was once, and weeks ago.

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