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1. Have you ever had sex with someone famous or who later became famous, if only locally?

I almost had sex with a very well-known professor when I was in college.  He was an actor in local productions and I had been in several of his classes (he was one of those amazingly passionate coked-out pedagogues who’d stand on desks reciting Kubla Khan – dissecting all of its sexual imagery in gory detail – moistening my thighs with every word and gesture).  I was at a cast party at his house (with my boyfriend).  I headed off to the bathroom; the door stop was a woman with her legs spread around the door.  I smiled, moved her out of the way, and forgot to lock the door.  He walked in right as I was zipping my pants.  He moved in to kiss me…and suddenly the spark that seemed so amazingly bright vanished.  The unattainable had suddenly become a pathetic old man in my head.  Total bummer…really.  And I HAVE, indeed, forgotten Professor What-his-name’s name.

Sylvia Plath

2. In the spirit of Six Degrees of Separation, have you had sex with someone who had sex with someone who had sex with someone who . . . someone famous?

Well, probably.  But, I don’t KNOW about it.  Besides, if I did, I might be jealous.

3. In the opposite direction, have you had sex with someone whose name you didn’t know?

I’ve always known their name at the time.  But, I’m terrible with names and am likely to forget them as soon as I’m introduced.  It isn’t their fault I forget.  I don’t think I’ve forgotten a fuck yet.  So, at least their penises (and vaginas) are memorable.  I mean, really, the only one I HAVE to remember is Mr. LL’s.  And the few special people I fuck on a recurrent basis.  Once I have an emotional connection, I’m much less likely to forget.  But once the tie is broken, I make no promises.  No matter how good of a lay someone is.

4. Someone whose name you knew then but have forgotten?

Oy vey!  Yes, indeed.  In, fact…there are a few.  Once I hit 25, scorned and licking my wounds after a 5-year-long, dead-end, waste of a relationship, I decided to become everything I hated about men.  One-night stands, cruel send-offs, no respresponsibility, and less connection.  So there are a few guys that got stuck in that vortex – faces I vaguely remember, but names that have gone the way of the tide.  A guy I noticed in a pub – took home and never called again…maybe it was Vincent or Vinnie or Vaughn?  And another who had a penis the size of my little finger.  I’ll give him a little credit and say it swelled to the size of my middle finger when it was hard, but it was the one and only time that I heartlessly kicked a guy out of my house without any explanation other than, “I’m not about to resign myself to a whole night of pretending to enjoy this.”  There was another guy who banged on my door in the middle of the night, drunker than hell, professing his undying love for me after I’d told him I was finished.  When I told him I was calling the cops, he threw the empty bottle at my front door and disappeared…forever.  And there have been a few swinger “name casualties”.  Hell, it’s dark, there are naked people…I can’t remember them all for god’s sake.

5. Someone who you suspect may have forgotten you?

Oh, sure.  I mean, I’m good at what I do, but it’s my mouth or my body or my cunt they’ll remember.  Not my name.  If I even gave/give them a real one.  It doesn’t hurt my feelings a bit….Now the time Mr. LL called me by his ex-g.f.’s name after sex?  That landed his ass on the couch.  In fact…he relegated himself there before I could even kick him out.  Of course, that was VERY early on in our relationship, so no hard feelings.  It’s funnier than it is anything else, because it could happen to anyone, and it meant nothing.


Bonus question: Someone you wish you could forget?

Yes…that guy I told you about above…the one with the pinkie-sized dick.  And there was this guy in high school.  I went down on him under a blanket between the bed and the wall in a crowded hotel room when I was 16.  I’d be cool with letting that one out of my memory.  Shit, the stupid things we do when we’re young and desperate to be accepted.  And…he was my ex-boyfriend’s best friend.  I know – right?  And there was the guy who I dated who got hooked on meth (even though he was also on anti-psychotics) who took what wasn’t offered on the bed of his VW microbus.  I could forget that moment – though I honestly don’t hold it against the guy.  Drugs do terrible things to people.

But, honestly…pretty much all of my sexual experiences are a necessary part of who I am as a sexual being.  If it weren’t for them, I wouldn’t be who I am or do what I do today.  So, I guess I don’t really want to forget any of them.  Besides, they provide me with a laugh (to myself) from time to time.

2 Replies to “Our sex was famous, but I forgot your name… (TMI Tuesday)”

  1. I know numbers, so surely that has to count somewhere. I prided myself on knowing names, but with my first actual commited relationship decided that memorizing wasn't important and let the names slip like sand.

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