The Rise of Digital Sex Work

May 21st, 2025

The Rise of Digital Sex Work
$30+ from Bookshop

At first, Kurt Fowler seems like an unlikely candidate to write about sex work. As a researcher and instructor, he isn’t directly connected with sex work or even the general field of sexuality. However, as a criminologist, Fowler is in the perfect position to research and educate on something that is illegal, even if the topic is often overlooked by academia. Although I have opinions about our judicial system–including sex work’s illegality–I hadn’t thought much about criminology as a field before reading The Rise of Digital Sex Work, and doing so prompted me to consider it. Similarly, Fowler made no statements about his opinion on the legality of sex work. Although he clearly feels compassion and respect for the sex workers with whom he spoke, Fowler’s book is a platform for their voices.

From the very beginning, Fowler weaves his research into a narrative that includes himself. He’s a skillful writer, and this will be more engaging to some readers. Perhaps more importantly, doing so explains how he had to work to build trust with the sex workers whom he interviewed, including them screening him with his employer, and highlights the unique humanity of every single participant mentioned. For those who would rather read a more succinct paper with a more structured analysis of the research rather than relying on the narrative he crafted, this book might not be the perfect fit. But I think Fowler’s decision to write it this way makes it appealing to a wider audience, and that means more readers have a chance to understand the nuances of sex work.

Although the book’s focus is digital sex work in its various forms, physical sex work is mentioned multiple times. This was sometimes the case because sex workers did or had done both, including those who moved online because of COVID-19. It also naturally came up as sex workers discussed their privilege in relation to others, which happened frequently. Much like his participants. Fowler was very open about the class, racial, and even geographic privileges most of the participants experienced. They are whiter and more educated than sex workers at large, and their experiences and thoughts can only be generalized to other sex workers so much as risk is not experienced equally–one of the reasons Fowler suspected a more diverse demographic did not respond to his study. Yet he painted a picture of sex workers as generally thoughtful, intelligent, and compassionate people, something that may be overlooked or entirely denied by those who might oppose sex workers or the work itself.

In general, sex workers simply want to be allowed to do their jobs without the fear of criminalization, and more than one takes on arguments about selling their bodies by pointing out how this is true in many jobs. Multiple sex workers expressed a preference for the freedom and autonomy in these roles as opposed to traditional careers, some of which they’d left without ever looking back. Interference by police and politics was also a common thread in these discussions. In an ostensible effort to decrease trafficking, these people and organizations often set their sights on sex workers, who reasonably seem to think they understand the difference between sex work and trafficking better than those who make and enforce the laws. Similarly, the assessment that these efforts waste the time and resources of both the police and sex workers seems quite reasonable, and readers gain an understanding of the world’s attitudes and legislation through sex work.

Because this book focuses on digital sex work, Fowler dove into the use of technology used by sex workers, specifically screening and communication tools. The fact that workers must carefully balance communicating in an appealing manner with clients while minimizing the unpaid time spent doing so quickly became apparent. Like all of us in the age of smartphones, sex workers are expected to be perpetually available to those who want their attention, even when it is costly or detrimental. The workers expressed their annoyance with time wasters, including those who wanted free sexting and law enforcement setting up traps. However, the people Fowler talked to also showed their savvy when weeding out potentially dangerous or unpleasant customers, and the importance of community to accomplish this was acknowledged repeatedly. Furthermore, the sex worker community was repeatedly mentioned as a source of support for a group of people who are so often treated poorly–by clients, law enforcement, and society at large. It’s no wonder many sex workers do not reveal their jobs to protect their privacy and well-being. Online communities offer a place where sex workers can speak freely and reduce isolation.

It is easy to see how the Internet provides resources that keep sex workers safe like never before but also how the internet poses a risk and those resources have become harder to find due to legislation, which Fowler discusses. One sex worker whose work was revealed to her family and friends (aka doxxing) took extreme care to protect her identity when talking with the author because she knew all too well the risks that come with digital sex work, even though it usually doesn’t include violence against sex workers. As sex work has moved online (in part to avoid COVID-19), those who do the job have had to surreptitiously master online marketing and branding in addition to safety measures. Here, Fowler discusses some of the specific tools used to accomplish those goals. The author always respects digital sex workers as entrepreneurs or freelancers, whichever you prefer, and readers learn how much there is to succeed in the field, which shares many similarities with other digital work or arts that similarly require self-promotion and branding.

The timing of this book is prescient because so many people are more aware of digital sex workers because of the COVID-19  pandemic and the popularity of OnlyFans. However, Fowler found himself at a disadvantage because he wrote the majority of the book before the pandemic, which he commented on. If there were any area where the author could expand, it might be in discussing the increased competition and, potentially, visibility due to OnlyFans and the pandemic, which I have heard about. This would have required more time researching and writing, of course, and every project needs to end at some point. While the book stands on its own without a chapter dedicated to the changes in sex work ushered in by COVID-19, a dedicated chapter would be most welcome.

There is some room for improvement in the book’s organization, which could be streamlined. It is not pithy and is heavy on dialog. Aside from headings, there isn’t a lot of formatting, which could be used to draw the reader’s attention to or reify important information, potentially as chapter wrap-ups. I also wish that Fowler had been able to connect with a more diverse group of sex workers, but there is plenty of opportunity for him–or others–to expand on this work and accomplish that goal. While Fowler discusses specific technological tools or platforms in the book, an entire book could be written on the technology that is so pivotal in (digital) sex work, not to mention sex work advocacy.

The Rise of Digital Sex Work pulls back the curtain on a world that I am sure many people find intriguing. However, it could also be useful professionally, by sex therapists, law enforcement, or politicians, for example, to ensure sex workers are treated fairly and respectfully. It is a frustrating fact that people need constant reminding that sex workers are, in fact, human, and Kurt Fowler has done the legwork to produce a book with academic quality that can be used as a resource by anyone who finds themselves having to make that argument. I recommend it to anyone interested in the topic and hope to see more academics follow in Fowler’s footsteps.

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Categories: Books, Reviews

On The Internet, Privacy, And Our Children

January 28th, 2020

A couple of weeks ago, someone shared something in one of the Facebook groups to which I belong. Unfortunately, i have lost the post, but I can sum it up and why it set the gears in my head a-grindin’.

The post was a screencap of a tweet, written by a parent who had just informed their daughter that periods will repeat monthly for several decades. The daughter responded negatively. The overall tone was humorous and, as someone who has sometimes struggled with periods, I could relate. It wasn’t my first time viewing the tweet, and I was ready to scroll on by until I saw why the image had been shared to the group.

I believe the reason why this post was shared was to point out how potentially embarrassing it could be for an adolescent to have their parent share with the internet. Although it wasn’t explicitly stated that this is the case, one could reasonably assume so. It wasn’t the point of the tweet, which was to be funny, but the information was still provided with it.

The group’s response was torn. Because the majority of the members were left-leaning women, many made the argument that there is no shame about periods. So what if we talk about it? If someone knows that a person with a uterus is experiencing a normal bodily function?

On the one hand, I completely agree. There is no shame about periods, at least, they shouldn’t be. It’s not always so cut and dry, unfortunately.

But there is an element here that isn’t so much about the content but the privacy of this girl There’s no shame about her period, but it should be her choice what strangers know about her, and this has become an increasingly complicated issue thanks to the popularity of the Internet and social media. You can so easily reach people, but this also means that it’s difficult to know who knows what about you and what the intentions of those people are.

20 years ago, I had my very first website, a simple one-page, HTML-based profile that came with my WBS chat account. Since then, I’ve created dozens of websites and several blogs. I’ve shared myself freely with the Internet. Occasionally, someone would express concern over how freely.

But I wasn’t alone. Before blogs became avenues toward careers, were viewed as legitimate forums to discuss politics or inform the masses about the dangers of certain sex toy materials, or became this grown-up thing, they were almost always personal. And they were, on the whole, owned by preteen and teenaged girls like myself who were all talking about themselves unabashedly, finding community and acceptance, which was sometimes lacking in the face-to-face world.

We’ve come a long time since then, and I still talk to some of those people. Only, we’re not teenagers anymore. Many of them have become parents, and while few of us have blogs that we keep up with anymore, most remain active on social media.

I read the posts wherein people discuss their kids: pregnancy announcements, births, milestones, rewards, and frustrations included. It’s easy to upload a few photos or a video to Facebook and share with the entire extended family. For the most part, these posts are charming, sometimes funny, and typically appropriate. But sometimes they seem to ignore boundaries and step over lines. I wonder how these children will feel when they themselves become teenagers, and then adults, and stumble across what their parents have shared about them, how they’ve been bared to the world without their knowledge or consent. I wonder how it would feel that near and sometimes complete strangers know such intimate details.

So I understood why that tweet rubbed some people wrong. There’s a lack of awareness and an influx of attention that can lead to, what seems to be, poor judgment when it comes to sharing about your child online.

But the Internet did not start this. It only makes it easier to reach more people. Parents have revealed details that their children would prefer remain private since the dawn of time (I can only assume).  I know because mine did, and aside from remaining frustrated about it to this day, the subject is actually relevant to this blog.

I lost my virginity when I was 18 to a boyfriend who I had met online (through a forum about a movie we both enjoyed, not an adult dating site as we were both still minors). I was living with a friend at the time, and he flew from Texas to visit me. Sexuality had been an important part of our online relationship and continued to be once we met in person. That we would have sex wasn’t a question, and the whole experience was generally positive. We would go on to get married, and I would create Of Sex and Love.

In the immediate aftermath of this, however, I was excited, giddy, serene. In short, I was experiencing happiness like I never had before. I had never thought it was even possible if I am being honest.

At the time, my relationship with my mother was strained, as it often is. But I wanted to share this with her. As my friend drove away from the airport after dropping off my ex, I called my mother. I wanted to reconnect and to share the way that daughters do with mothers, at least, they do in the movies.

But the conversation I had was a disappointing one. My mom didn’t pick up on this. What she did do was ask if we’d had sex. I answered honestly, but that wasn’t relevant in my mind. It wasn’t the purpose of that call.

I hung up, dejected. My mom and I didn’t reconnect then. In fact, things even got a little worse.

A few weeks later, I ran into my aunt. She had seen my mom in the interim. As I chatted with my aunt, she informed me that, upon walking into my mom’s house, the first thing my mom said was that I was no longer a virgin.

Now, this was years before the advent of any social media that my mom would use, and I doubt she would have said something like that online, but I still felt hurt that she was discussing my private matters without my consent. I may talk about these things and certainly to more people than just my aunt, but that’s my right, not hers.

It didn’t just sting; I felt a sense of betrayal that added on to my prior disappointment. My relationship with my mother wouldn’t improve anytime soon.

So it’s certainly not the fault of the Internet when people run their mouths that would be better left closed. People have poor judgment, even when those people are parents. They are not infallible. But those of us who strive to be better have a responsibility to at least try to be more conscientious than that, to respect privacy and boundaries, and to be aware of the impact of our words. And in a hyperconnected world, this is all the more important.

While there are things such as periods or sex that I believe we need to talk about more than we do and in smarter ways than we do, when these things pertain to specific people, those people must be involved in those conversations voluntarily.

Maybe the daughter in question from that tweet knew. Maybe she was okay with it or didn’t care either way. But as long as there’s doubt, we have work to do.

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Categories: personal

You do what, now?

December 1st, 2012

Every once in a while, I discover a new sex toy that makes me go “what the fuck?” if it’s really weird. Sometimes, I see something and wonder who is into that. Although I’ve tried my fair share of toys, I lack a penis, and I think the masturbation experience is a little different for men. Not only do women have the better selection of sex toys, but masturbation is sometimes more sensual, more prolonged, and more fantasy-oriented in our heads. At least, that’s it for me. I find trying to look at things to be a little distracting. It’s easier for me to visualize things with my eyes closed.

That’s why when I learned about Beaniebang Babes, I was more than a little curious. On the one hand, it seems like a lot of work and I am definitely lazy. On the other hand, I admire the attempt to capitalize on an already successful sex toy — the Fleshlight — and the porn industry to produce something that could possibly enhance masturbation. I understand why people want to make masturbation more sex-like, but I also don’t know if the intent itself isn’t misguided or if sticking a picture on a pornstar and beaniebanging “her” is the right way to go about it.

But, guys deserve a wider range of sex toys, too, so I can’t fault anyone who wants to know how to beaniebang. At least they’d be taking their desires — and penis — into their own hands, and I commend that.

Plus, I think naming sex toys after children’s toys is kinda lulzy.

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Categories: Everything Else

Why Ask a Stranger? (or “Go Talk To Your Partner”)

January 13th, 2010

Having been around the internet a time or two, I’ve sought out advice from others. Who hasn’t? But as my knowledge in just about everything expands, I find myself being the one who offers instead of seeks counsel, more often than not. I don’t mind. In fact, I thrive on it. I love helping people and answering questions. And if my advice works? Excellent. I give myself a little pat on the back and feel hopeful that someone has somehow worked over and issue in their life whether it’s communication within a relationship or just finding the right sex toy for them.

But I have come to notice a certain type of question which I cannot answer – not because I am unfamiliar with the territory or even because I disagree with something that gets someone off. No, the questions that bother me most are the questions about relationships and dynamics and communication which clearly should be asked to a partner, not random strangers on the internet. Don’t get me wrong; it’s good to show initiative. If you want to do something a little extra special, I’ve got ideas. So does everyone else and these ideas are not necessarily dependent on your partner’s tastes or relationship status. But I cannot answer these questions

  • Why is my partner less interested in sex?
  • Why does my partner no longer initiate sex?
  • Does my partner still love me or find me attractive?
  • How do I deal with my partners ED/disability/insecurities without talking to him or her?
  • What does it mean when my partner ignores my advances?

Yet, if your partner’s interest in sex has decrease or his or her attitude has altered suddenly, I cannot tell you why. I just can’t. I’m not your partner. I don’t share his or her stress at work or home. I do not react to things the same way nor do I have the same life experiences. My life influences and brain chemistry are, quite simply, incredibly different. I don’t know what makes your partner tick and, if you’re asking me, it seems like neither do you.

Perhaps the internet offers anonymity when it comes to our problems. We can say “this is going on” without saying “and my name is John Smith and I live in Miami with my wife, 2 children, cat and dog.” Sex is not always the easiest thing to talk about and I understand that but sexual and romantic relationships frequently suffer from lack of or poor communication. Sure, some relationships are completely effortless but most are not. You don’t need to talk to the world about your sex life; you just need to talk to the person(s) with whom you are having sex.

Get off the internet (after all, you signed on to ask your question) and have a heart to heart with your lover. Ask about changes in behaviour or reluctance to do a certain activity. Ask why things are different from how they were in the hot and heavy days or why things just never seemed to pick up from the beginning. Ask your partner how he or she feels and offer a shoulder to cry on. Perhaps you will find that your partner has been struggling with something and you can help.

Your partner may be relieved that you brought up the subject. It offers both of you the opportunity to make improvements, something which cannot be done when one or both partners are in the dark about the other’s feelings. Sometimes we forget that our partners have the same fears and aspirations as we may and we can fight them together, not fight one another because of them. Occasionally, you are positive something is a problem when talking can reveal it to actually be a misunderstanding. You may find that knowing more about your partner may make you feel closer and boosts your confidence in your relationship. Conversely, not speaking about these options frequently only exacerbates the problems.

Of course, there are some guidelines to follow when talking about sexual issues and many of them have to do with when to bring them up or, rather, when not to. Don’t bring up your concerns at any of these inopportune times:

  • Right before sex
  • In the middle of sex
  • Immediately after sex
  • In public (or in front of the in laws)
  • During a fight (especially not as ammunition)
  • When there are distractions (computer, TV, kids, phone, while preparing dinner et cetera)

Every effort should be made to express your feelings and concerns without putting blame on your lover. Pay attention to your partner’s responses, both verbal and nonverbal. Body language can serve as a guide to the success (or lack there of) of your discussion. Allow your partner to speak freely and avoid making assumptions; ask for clarification when need be. Finally, be open to suggestions. Ask how things can be improved and avoid dictating measures your partner “must” or “should” do. After all, you probably don’t want to be commanded yourself.

Unfortunately, sometimes knowing what is going on in a partner’s heart or mind (or pants) can pose problems that we cannot overcome. Sometimes talking paints a clear picture but it’s not of a happy ending (Cinderella style, not massage). I think sometimes people reach out to strangers, looking for a way to deal with symptoms of larger problems rather than admitting to themselves or their partners, all so they can continue to avoid the inevitable. But sometimes the inevitable (especially when it’s a parting of ways), although difficult in the present, offers the best possible future.

Either way, talking to your partner will truly shed light on a situation. It may not be the best light. Let’s face it, the truth is not always comfortable but the truth, as they say, can set us free.

I am just a stranger on the internet who has no idea what is really going on in your head or in your bed.

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Categories: Articles

Stigma of STDs

November 24th, 2009

A while back I was reading a piece in Best Sex Writing 2009 about the advent of online dating communities for people with STDs. The article talked about these different communities, some aimed for STD sufferers in general and others aimed for folks with more specific STDs, which aid people in finding similar folks. It’s supposed to help folks in a couple ways. First, it helps to get the message across because the fact that So and So has X virus is right out in the open. There’s no third date jitters because you don’t know how your partner will react to the bad news. It also helps people look for others with the same STD/strain so they needn’t worry about giving it to someone else.

But it definitely reduces the dating pool. In the article, one of the users of such a site mentioned how there were only ever 1 or 2 folks in her location on the sites and those were not matches made in heaven. It can be difficult to find even a possibility, nevertheless a hit, on general dating sites whose users surely number in the thousands think AdultFriendFinder or a specific match sites like think Alt.com. So reducing those numbers even more can make the task of finding a partner even more hopeless, under the guise of hopefulness. To put it plainly, it’s hard enough to find someone (or sometimes several) when you’re considering all the fish in the sea but STD dating sites are just a little pond.

I’m not entirely sure that folks with STDs should have to limit themselves to that little pond. Not only are the pickings sometimes slim but it’s all too easy to write off someone because their STD status is displayed so prominently. Assuming everyone chooses their partners wisely (ha!), there are circumstances where STDs do not have to be the deciding factor of a relationship but the stigma is so high that it can even penetrate a community intended for those whose STDs run the gamut. If someone with disease X can turn his nose down on someone with infection Y, it’s no wonder there’s such a stigma around STD sufferers in general. It’s no wonder someone thought it would be a good idea to make such a dating site (not that it’s not).

And the stigma? Is there. It’s certainly real. There’s a “them versus us” mentality. I’m not proud to say that I’d had an STI invade my body and I still think that way sometimes. I try not but it comes so easily. I imagine the type of person who could possibly be so stupid or silly and I realize that.. I was that person. I start thinking about my friends and acquaintances, knowing at least 3 of them have all had at least one STD or STI. We’re not loose women – some of us have only ever been with one person – and we’re certainly not stupid. Our cabinets aren’t stocked with cocaine nor are we sex workers. Basically, no one I know with an STD has fit any fantastic stereotype of an STD sufferer.

It’s then that I realize it’s now “us” and “them” because they are us and vice versa. If I could have an STD, then so could my best friend, my mom, my coworker or my neighbor. Not only is it plausible, but it’s likely that more of my friends and family than I know have struggled with an STD and, by its nature, the stigma involved with it. Science agrees: “Among those ages 15-49, only one in four Americans has not had a genital HPV infection” and 12 million Americans contract an STD each year 1. That means the other 75% have HPV and it’s likely they don’t even know it because many strains have no symptoms even even those which do can lay low for some time. I wouldn’t have known, if not for my yearly Pap and there’s currently no test for men at all. Of course, HPV is only one of many STDs. It becomes clear; although, many people who perpetuate the stigma actually have an STD. The reality is, not only is there no way to distinguish between people, it becomes far less necessary to do so (simply to feed the gossip and stereotypes), when considering the numbers.

Of course, I don’t even realize the stigma has affect me, even as I wonder if I would ever be able to have sex with someone besides my husband (should we ever get to that point) and I cringe because I don’t know what to say about my HPV. I don’t realize how easily it is to perpetuate the problem even as I picture that stereotypical “STD-person” all covered in warts and strung out in my head. It’s a stigma that does no one any good and a stigma which could use a good boot to the butt.

So does a dating site for STD sufferers help? I guess it depends on how you define the problem.

1 – American Social Health Association, Myths and Misconceptions about HPV

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Categories: Articles

Confessions of a Sex Blogger: My Multiple Identity Crisis

November 17th, 2009

My title sounds so provocative. Well, so does anything that starts “Confessions of..”. Except maybe a plumber. Those are some confessions I’d rather nor hear, thank you very much. Not that I have anything against plumbers but it’s a dirty job. Sometimes it’s funny to watch Dirty Jobs, the show with Mike Rowe, but that’s completely off-topic.

The topic is how sometimes life with a secret identity becomes confusing. You see, while some people are only their “sex blogger” identity, I have two full presences online. I run this blog, post on sex forums, write reviews for different sites, post on Twitter, and am a member of some different sex communities. I do that all as Adriana. The web presence I have under my “real” identity is even more complex. I have 4 blogs (one of which is a review blog), and I manage to update at least one every day, I update Twitter, I am active in several communities and post at their forums, I have accounts on Facebook and Myspace, not to mention dozens of other sites, I play a handful of games and sometimes I take the time to enter giveaways every once in a while. The “real” me has had a full internet life for nearly a decade, and it was very well-established long before I became a toy reviewer.

It’s not like I don’t enjoy it. I have a wide variety of interests. There’s always something to do. I’ve met a lot of people in both worlds, and I have seen firsthand the overlap between the two. If I had a nickel for every time I saw a review for EdenFantasys on a mommy blog (while browsing as the PG-rated reviewer, not the sex toy reviewer), I could get a shiny new toy. It’s not like I do everything all the time. It doesn’t take long to Tweet or switch between accounts. I don’t get so much e-mail that it’s all I do. There are stretches when I don’t write a review at all and my blogs don’t take so much time that I’ve forgotten my husband’s face (nor would I let them). And, let’s face it, it’s not like I have anything better to do.

But in this game of multiple identities, I’ve had several close calls and a few times when I could have even “outed” myself. I’ve e-mailed folks from the wrong e-mail account, not realizing which one was selected in my e-mail client. I’ve retweeted contests under the wrong Twitter account; my other one reposts everything to my Facebook. Oops! Once I left the wrong site URL in a comment form and I’ve signed up using to some sites twice, without realizing it, having forgotten I’d shopped there before all this sex toy reviewing stuff.

But my greatest offense involves “The Google”. I am always signed into my Google account but I only ever use it to comment on blogs so I frequently forget who I am signed in as. I’ve made a comment or two as the “wrong” me. I’ve been lucky so far; I haven’t said anything to give me away. Although, there was that one time I was helping Airlia with her site with my regular Google account and it showed a link to my profile in her blog. Oops, deux.

None of those things have been the end of the world. Sometimes people don’t even notice and even if I were “outed,” I have much less to lose than others. In fact, I have directed friends of the “real” me to of Sex and Love or my reviews at other sites on more than one occasion. It’s just not a link I want to be made easily. Anyway, there’s ways to get around those silly mistakes. I mean, besides actually paying attention, some folks run multiple browsers or instances of the same browsers. Not really my thing, nor does my dinosaur of a computer want to. But I could.

The thing that gets me the most, is I never know how to sign correspondences. Obviously, “Adriana Ravenlust” is not my real name. Sorry to break it to you. It is a name I chose, with help from my husband. “Ravenlust” actually is a take on a name I’ve used as the “real” me so that’s kind of cool. It’s a name I like and it’s probably easy for others to remember because it is a real name. No one ever adds extra letters to Adriana. Well, maybe another “n” but that’s not bad. When I’m signed into chat or a forum, I feel like Adriana.

Which is why I have no idea how to sign e-mails. If you know my real name, do I end with that? If I use one of my “real” identity e-mail addresses, should I just keep my signature as it automatically shows up? Do I need to explain that the name I go by is a nickname of my real name, which I hardly use? Does it matter if we have a business relationship, like if I review for a company? Or is it just okay if I can always be Adriana and just pretend neither of us no any better? I don’t really want to be rude, you know. I just don’t (know).

What do you do?

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Categories: Everything Else

Make love to your long distance lover online

Personally, Passionately, Anonymously Yours

October 1st, 2009

I write about sex here, on this blog, because I want to and I can. It’s really as simple as that and the internet has created a place where I can do it. What’s more, people seem to want to read what I have to say and this is great motivation to keep doing it.

Although the internet has prompted a lot of discussion and behaviour that aren’t exactly positive or productive, it has certainly created a forum for discussion of a sexual nature and I appreciate it. Whether someone finds a sympathetic shoulder, reassurance or even advice to seek medical attention, the internet has allowed people to come forward with their ideas, thoughts and concerns. This is important because sex is such a private topic that people are sometimes reluctant to discuss it even when they should, sometimes especially when they should. Not to be too dramatic but I do think that the internet has helped people make some positive decisions regarding their sexual health and that’s a priceless benefit in my opinion.

As I said, sexuality is a private thing and a personal thing. That fact makes it so interesting to so many people. Because I literally cannot replicate every possible experience, I am limited to my own mental and physical responses to sex. Even though these may (and have!) change over time, I will still only have experienced the tip of the iceberg in my lifetime. The internet allows us to share these personal experiences more freely than we might have, because of anonymity. We can see how others are more like us than we may have imagined and how others are far more different than we ever might have thought.

This sharing can affirm that, yes, we have had fairly typical experiences or that, no we haven’t. The internet can help to show us that our experiences are not typical, for better or worse, and help us to appreciate them anyway. Sex is one of those areas in which almost any discussion is good discussion. The internet offers priceless aid in this, especially if our personal lives otherwise prohibit discussion.

Of course, sex is also a passionate subject. Sure, some people could go either way but their are advocates speaking loudly on the behalf of sex as well as those who speak, just as loudly, against it. All of these opinions can be heard on the internet. If you can’t tell, I am for sex, for discussion, experimentation and understanding sex. It has become an important part of my life and I wish for others to have positive experiences like mine.

Which brings me back to why I love being able to blog here and participate in sexuality communities. It allows me do that, to help others, to offer than sympathetic shoulder or to urge medical assistance. It lets me feel as though I am helpful.

Unfortunately, the anonymity of the internet also makes it easy to say and do things without much, or any, repercussion. People can behave in ways that are not helpful and they do not need to take responsibility of their actions. Feeling passionate about a subject can illicit responses which aren’t so strong in the productivity department, even if the intent is not malicious. The anonymity of the internet can further excuse such behaviour until it eventually turns malicious.

This is what happened with some recent comments on another article of mine. I understand that the sharing on the internet sometimes winds up with messages we’d rather not hear, experiences which we do not share and opinions with which we disagree. I respect that for that is part of what makes the internet great. On the other hand, just because sex is a personal and passionate matter does not mean we have to respond in unfruitful ways. We can still agree and be productive.

We can disagree without coming off as defensive, rude or ignorant. We can read experiences which differ from our own (and share ours as well) and both experiences can be valid. Jumping to the defense or offense or posting hastily (which is often done in such an immediate environment) can prove detrimental to the positive experience of the internet, especially when it comes to sex. It is the opposite of the support some need when exploring their sexuality. That can be a difficult move for some and I commend them. In fact, negative responses can start a hurtful chain of behavior, succeeding in only exacerbating the problem.

It’s important to remember that differing opinions and experiences do not invalidate your own. Your voice is no less worthy and, in fact, being unique can be a strength, not a weakness.

The internet is big enough for all and, whatever your experience, it’s okay. It’s okay if you’re straight, gay, bi, queer or unsure. It’s okay if you’re male, female or trans. It’s okay if you experience great orgasms, multiple orgasms, difficult orgasms or no orgasm at all. It’s okay if you enjoy oral, anal or vaginal sex – or if you don’t. It’s okay if you like to masturbate, have tried it and don’t like it or if you have no descire. It’s okay if everything came naturally and easily or if you’ve struggled to explore your sexuality. It’s okay if you’re vanilla, slightly kinky or a hardcore fetishist. It’s okay if you fit the trends of break the mold. Whatever you are – it’s okay.

Let that be a message you pass on personally, passionately and anonymously, on the internet.

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