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Wednesday, January 07, 2004

I wrote this last night when I couldn't get to sleep. Read away.

Look at me. I’ve suddenly become a sex blogger overnight. A whole legion of Internet-goers know about my deepest thoughts; thoughts that my closest friends don’t know. I’ve suddenly been sucked into that world that I was comfortably orbiting throughout my adolescence while fantasizing about being a stripper; now I am a stripper, or at least a strip-blogger, stripping away my humanity and getting down to the good stuff in my soul.

I started this blog by reassuring myself that at any moment, Leticia McKenzie could fold, my secret identity never to have existed. But, oh man, you have no idea what it feels like to talk to the entire Internet about masturbation. Suddenly, my sexual side has an outlet; I’m a real, complete person, but unfortunately, I’ve split myself in half: Me, in the real world, a complete eunuch (in the female sense), and Leticia, in the blogosphere, masturbating for a crowd at the drop of a hat. How do I reconcile these sides of myself?

Sheesh, if I were a prostitute, I could get paid for this. Right now, I’m being an Internet whore for the sake of my sanity. Where can I buy bottled sexual honesty for two bucks a pop?

(No, Google Ads, that was not an invitation.)

It doesn’t help that none of my friends can know about this blog, for the sake of my secret identity. I think I’m going to burst with all the emotions that Leticia is experiencing and I am not. I wonder if Spider-Man ever went through this?

P.S. apologies to prostitutes reading this: that comment of mine was rather condescending. Your job is a lot harder than mine; I only have to _write_ about sex...
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