Between traveling, moving to Portland, Ore. starting my new internship and school, I’ve been too busy to even think about sex.
It’s so bad Curve personals offered me a discount to renew the membership I didn’t know expired and I wouldn’t be surprised if Craig himself emailed to ask why I haven’t posted on his list lately.
I blame fatigue and my habit of over-committing myself professionally but I’d be remiss if I didn’t also give some credit to my affair with Roxie. It’s been so easy to fall into a comfortable rhythm of texts, IMs and calls with her that I’ve forgotten she lives miles away.
But miles away she does live and I have needs of the physical variety that require more than our occasional vacation trysts give me.
Which is why I decided to hire a sex assistant.
Yes, that’s right, a sex assistant. It’s like my own Yenta, only without the whole forced marriage thing. Or a pimp, without the degrading connotations or illegal exchange of money for sex.
The idea started as a joke with a friend and ended with this post on Craigslist:
“Hiring a Sex Assistant, please apply within – Age 27 (Anywhere with a computer)
Busy sex and dating writer seeks part-time assistant – somebody to find me dates, pre-screen them for screwability and set them up to fit in my schedule.
Think Maggie Gyllenhaal in Secretary meets Jennifer Hudson in Sex and the City.
Trading sex for money being illegal, this job doesn’t pay. However, benefits include camaraderie, insight into the workings of a sex blogger, occasional free shit, gratitude and an amazing wingwoman if you ever need one.
If you’re interested (either in the job or just sex) please reply with your resume. Pictures are highly encouraged.”
Not so shockingly, I didn’t get any responses. Turns out, no one wants to work for free trying to get some pretentious sounding stranger laid.
Giving up hope that someone will do the leg work for me, I responded to a few ads that seemed to have potential and posted one myself. I’ve emailed back and forth with a few people but nothing seems to manifest.
It wasn’t until I blew off a perfectly good date with a decently attractive woman that I realized just how much of myself I was saving for Roxie. Turns out my professional life is not the only place where I’m over-committed.
It’s been awhile since I felt like this but here I am not sure I want to sleep with someone else; here I am hoping for an “us,” in whatever form I can get it.
This is unstable, slippery ground that I’m not particularly good at navigating. Let’s all hope together that I can make it down this path without falling too hard and getting hurt.
Blogger Bio: Queerie Bradshaw loves shoes, social justice and sex. Born a farmer's daughter, she believes everyone deserves a good roll in the hay, and feels empowered by her feminine sexuality. She frequently travels both domestically and abroad, exploring women and wine from all regions. Now a law student who dances burlesque on the side, she fights for international rights to life, liberty, and the pursuit of good porn. You can visit her website at QueerieBradshaw.com, fo