Friday, September 30, 2005

Hits & Messes

I get a lot of mail from concerned readers asking me how and why I allow myself to get entrapped in some of the more sticky sexual situations detailed on this blog. You should be more discerning, they chide. You should finetune that man-tennae. Bad sex is for teenagers – you of all people, should know better.

Yes Daddy. (Does it turn you on when I call you that?)

I should know a lot of things, but I don’t. For example, I don’t know which of the men I take home for the first time will be any good in bed. Likewise I don’t know who is going to have a small cock (feet, noses, handspan – I’ve tried looking at everything. I defy anyone who says there is a direct correlation). And I don’t know who is going to wake up the next morning next to me, declare undying love with tears in his eyes and turn into a psychotic stalker.

I try my best to be selective (Bank details and reference checks, please. No relatives) and to be upfront about what I looking for. But ultimately, I’m also the sort of person that believes curiosity to be an admirable trait; and if something looks like fun, just do it. Especially if ‘it’ has broad shoulders, a tight ass and knows the etymology of your real name.

Inevitably, not everyone’s a winner. I’m beginning to think you haven’t truly lived until you count hourlong handjobs, persistent pursuers, banker wankers, fecal fetishists as part of your repertoire.

But for every gobsucking freakshow I’ve fucked, there is always a story of a wild night I spent in a caravan off the coast of Wales with a sensitive trapeze artist. Or a yarn about getting caught in the rain with someone’s fingers up my pussy on a scooter speeding up the mountains of Southern Taiwan. Or an unbelievable one-night sexperiment with a drugged-up Armani model.

The point is: sex, as with life, is not always fluffy daffodils. And the path to sexual nirvana for the single 20something Singaporean never did run smooth. Therefore, the objective of this blog is to give you an unapologetic account of everything in between. Sex in all its pre-masticated glory. If it could happen to Adam and Eve, it could happen to you.

So don’t ask me to provide bodice-ripping soul-satisfying firecracker singleserves all the time. That just isn’t what God intended. Sometimes sex is mindblowing, but sometimes it’s just so-so. Sometimes I feel a lot for the other person (love, affection, vagina-wetting lust), but at other times I’m just bored and need a shag. Sometimes I feel cherished and special right after the experience, but on rare occasions, I feel hurt and used.

I just tell it like it is. And I trust you to be open-minded and forgiving enough to keep reading. Besides, that’s what makes me so goddamned entertaining, right? :)