What I Do

Luka was kind enough to interview me for his Medium blog and newsletter.

How/why did you decide to become a sex journalist?

I don’t know that I chose this path, per se. It kind of happened. In the late Nineties, there weren’t a lot of women writing about sex.

The most well-known ones were Candace Bushnell, who wrote the “Sex and the City” column that would become the HBO series, and Anka Radakovich, who wrote for Details.

I saw them more as columnists and myself more as a reporter. Less Carrie Bradshaw, more Gay Talese. The year after I moved to LA, I got hired by Playboy TV to be an on-camera reporter on “Sexcetera,” which featured half a dozen sex reporters, of which I was one, covering sex news stories around the world. “Sexcetera” was like “60 Minutes,” but on Viagra.

Each segment we did was about eight minutes, which I seem to recall one of the executive producers saying was how long it took for the presumably male viewer to jack off to it. I described my job as “talking to the camera while people fuck behind me.”

Read it here.

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Plans in My Head and Other Things

I sent out another newsletter. (Don’t forget to subscribe; there’s a button at the bottom of the post.)

This one is mostly a roundup of various things that were in my head, from my brief, non-interactive sort-of-encounter with A Famous Man Who Talked to His Penis to My Estate Sale Meanderings Involving a Former Playboy Model to this idea I have for an article that would involve me touring the last remaining adult theaters in Los Angeles.

That last thing, that adult theater tour idea for an article with pictures and such, was inspired by an experience I had writing this article about virtual reality porn for The Atlantic.

To wit:

On Santa Monica Boulevard, near the 101 Freeway, the Tiki Theater was still standing. Years ago, I’d photographed it, but I’d never been inside. “It’s porn movies,” the man in the front booth emphasized when I paid my $14. “I know,” I replied. In the gloom of the tiny theater, four men were scattered around on random chairs. On the big screen, a cheery blonde was performing oral sex on a man who seemed to be appreciating the attention. On the TV set that had been erected next to the bigger screen, a different porn movie was playing. Neither one had sound. It was not quite 9 o’clock in the morning. In this hidden world, the porn was real—almost too real.

That was a bizarre experience. And you know what they say about bizarre experiences. It’s best to repeat them. In any case, I’m not sure where to begin, although it would be cool to present it online as one of those maps, like one of those Eater maps. Let me know if you’d like to design one for me.

I cover the business of sex | Blog | Forbes | Twitter | Instagram | LinkedIn | Email

Just Say No to Robot Strippers

After a break, I am back. Check out my Forbes blog for my deep dive into the world of strip club robot security guards, and while you’re at it, subscribe to my Substack newsletter: The Reverse Cowgirl. A good time, all.

I cover the business of sex | Blog | Forbes | Twitter | Instagram | LinkedIn | Email

Lost Objects Is Here

Delighted to have a story I wrote in the newly released LOST OBJECTS from Hat & Beard Press. It’s the true story of a silicone vagina I lost. My fellow contributors include Neil LaBute, Lydia Millet, and Geoff Manaugh. Until 12/25 you can use the code LOSTOBJECTS for 20% off the retail price of the book from Hat & Beard.

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My Lost Vagina

A story I wrote about a silicone vagina that I lost appears in Lost Objects: 50 Stories About the Things We Miss and Why They Matter. In an interview with PRINT, co-editor Rob Walker gave my story a shout out:

What are, say, three of the most surprising objects in your book?

Walker: For me, I’d say the silicone vagina that Susannah Breslin wrote about is not something I would have predicted. Then maybe Mandy Keifetz’ orgone accumulator, and Neil LaBute’s pickled octopus. 

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I'm Only Happy When It Rains

Check out my latest newsletter at The Reverse Cowgirl:

“They had tattoos and did crazy acrobatics and I think one girl had a tramp stamp that read FUCK YOU or maybe FUCK YOU PAY ME.”

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All the Smut That's Fit to Print

A couple new things:

I wrote a Forbes post about a strip club CEO:

“Pandemic? Fuggedaboutit. Two years of dark news, quarantining, and masks have resulted in a surge of consumers who want to go out and have fun. The strip club business may not be pandemic proof, but according to Langan, it’s pandemic resistant.”

I wrote a newsletter about the story behind that story:

"I had forgotten about that fact, and several other details in the piece, like the dancer who made $800 to $1,000 a night who told me: ‘I have a lot of spunk.’”

Don’t forget to subscribe to my newsletter here.

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The Hidden Pervert

My latest newsletter is out. It features the perversions of dead people’s houses. Read it here. Subscribe here.

I’d assumed the place had belonged to an older gay man who had spent his final years contentedly rendering artistic homages to the penis, but when I got to the bedroom, I realized the deceased resident had been an older woman.

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Scenes from My Life as a Sex Writer

My latest newsletter is out. It features a walk down sex writer lane. Read it here. Subscribe here.

Interestingly, I’d forgotten many of the things that I’d done and which I’d referenced in the piece. That time I went to a sex dungeon in Van Nuys. That all-girl porn star orgy performance art at a downtown gallery. The ex-prostitute looking to buy the oldest brothel in the country.

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Lost Objects, the Book

Some time ago, I wrote a short nonfiction story about a lost vagina for an online literary series called Lost Objects. That series is now a book: Lost Objects: 50 Stories About the Things We Miss and Why They Matter. The book was edited by series creators Joshua Glenn and Rob Walker and is being published by Hat & Beard Press. You can pre-order a copy now and / or pre-order one of the limited-edition companion posters here.

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My, My Obscene Comic

In my latest newsletter, I reveal what happened when I set out to post an X-rated comic I created several years ago online: “My, My Obscene Comic.”

Well, maybe I’ll publish the comic in my newsletter, I thought. But then I started to wonder if doing so would get me banned from Substack. “We don’t allow porn or sexually exploitative content on Substack,” read their Content Guidlines, although “We do allow depictions of nudity for artistic, journalistic, or related purposes, as well as erotic literature.” So, I wasn’t sure.

Read the rest here and hit the button at the bottom to subscribe.

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The Reverse Cowgirl Is Back!

In 2002, I launched what became an iconic blog: The Reverse Cowgirl. Now it’s back, as a Substack newsletter: The Reverse Cowgirl. Don’t forget to subscribe!

The RCB, as I referred to it, had what could be described as a prurient focus—after all, its tagline was: “in which a writer attempts to justify the enormity of her porn collection”—but it was also, as I write here, a way for me, a writer, to “share my crazy life working the sex and porn beat, from Porn Valley to the Playboy Mansion, and I was intoxicated by the opportunity that sex blogging afforded me: an uncensored venue where I could write and express whatever I wanted—without censorship.”

Read the rest and subscribe here.

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How We Become Who We Are, Porn Valley Edition

My latest newsletter trades in how the things that happen to us change who we are.

“As I recall it, when I asked the porn star about her background, she explained that when she was very young—a toddler, I think—her father killed her mother and then killed himself.”

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The Hand Print

An excerpt from my latest newsletter: “The Hand Print”:

That scene would star Jenna and a well-known male porn star named T. T. Boy, a short, pugnacious performer with a lantern jaw and a permanent scowl who reminded me of a less-bright Patrick Bateman. (“Within the business, he is known as an untiring performer,” T. T. Boy’s Wikipedia page touts. “In a 2015 interview, he stated that over the course of his career, he has slept with over 10,000 women.”) I knew who T. T. Boy was before I arrived because I had read about him in the pages of The New Yorker. In 1995, Susan Faludi had written about the suicide of a male porn star named Cal Jammer, and during her research in the San Fernando Valley, her path had crossed with that of T. T. Boy’s. In her story, she’d quoted a former male porn star who’d observed of T. T. Boy: “Basically, the guy is a life-support system for a penis.” I found this assessment to be about right. He was smaller than me, brooding, coiled as if looking for an excuse to do something to someone—it didn’t really matter what or who, whether it was fighting or fucking. Maybe it was all the same to him.

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Welcome to Fantasy Island

My latest newsletter is live. It features Gang Bang Island, a superfreak, and what the storm took from me.

Read it here.

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I'm Gonna Knock You Out

My latest newsletter features zombies, Wes Anderson, and Ali.

Read it here.

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The Bad Date

In the latest installment of my newsletter — subscribe here — I wrote about a bad date and why it’s hard for me to explain what I do as a consultant to men who are not the type of men who are my consulting clients.

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The Lost Vagina

A short nonfiction essay I wrote for the Lost Objects series, “Silicone Vagina,” will be published in an upcoming PROJECT:OBJECT anthology to be published by Hat & Beard Press. The book should be available in spring 2022. I’ll post an update here when it’s available. You can read my story online here.

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How to Imagine

My latest newsletter is live, featuring cherry blossoms, Jesus Christ, and imagining your life. Also: Subscribe.

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Don't Write a Book

My latest newsletter is live, featuring dating, aspiring authors, and the writing of books. Also: Subscribe.

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