But my baby's so vain She is almost a mirror

I never intended to have sex from the internet. I don’t think I intended too. The reality of it was that I was incredibly naïve and new nothing about men. Having been a fat awkward teenager who survived high school by shutting her mouth, dulling her dramatic tendencies and blending into the middle. I was lucky I was a dreamer. I was lucky that osmosis hadn’t fully completed otherwise I may have ended up some heifer in suburbs who hid her emotional vulnerability and mental instability through middle class bitchiness and….well, whatever those women do.

I suppose now I am just an oversexed heifer. One of those things is a constant and the other changes. I’m going to let you guess (hint: it isn’t the verb.) Now, if you want to know, I am a university student. I come from a relatively upper middle class background. I am well travelled. I am an over-achiever. Those these days everyone my age is well travelled and an over-achiever so none of these things set me apart. In fact, they help me blend into a aimlessly determined tribe that is my generation. I intern. Most of my friends are "in fashion", musicians (we all know that term excludes employment), really "into" (aka employed by some money driven corporation who realize there is money to be made from us) pop culture and digital media or they study fine arts. We all own something cropped from Alex Wang or something, anything, by Rei. We all love Dolly Parton. The only thing that set's me apart, or may assimilate me more, is that I have something aggressive in me that can never be filled, and one of the only times this feeling goes away is when I can focus on someone's pupils and at least one of their digits (an not just fingers) inside me.

One day when I was still a teenager (legal, of course) when I made a profile on an internet dating site. There was nothing completely psychotic about me (I say this making no claim of any psychology knowledge) or remotely pitiful. I was a university student, living away from home and had never even had a boyfriend. A virgin I was not, but a virgin, I was close too. You could make the claim I was slightly bored and isolated but I think I just wanted to meet men. I did not realise what “meeting men” would entail. That it would entail sex.

And to be honest men love me. Despite my constant neurosis and insecurities men seem to love me. Or at least want me. Maybe they sense the deeply hidden insecurity, and everyone knows a girl with insecurity is a sure thing in bed. And they usually let you do anything you want. Maybe it's as basic as having nearly black eyes, smooth skin and red lips. Maybe it’s because I’m good at pretending. I have this uncanny ability to say the exact right thing in any given situation. I’m not talking about charm, I don’t ooze charisma. I realise people just want to be pleased, even if it’s not the truth. They hear and see what they want.

So for the last few years, I have been meeting men on the internet and sleeping with them. My fuck rate is about 98%. But don't get me wrong, I'm not limited to men just of the internet. It's just the starting point of nothingness with the internet makes the trajectory seem so much more. And I don't plan to sleep with all of them. Or any of them. It just happens and I am always surprised it does. And I think I like it. I like the adventure and the spontaneity. I like the anxiousness and I like danger. I like that clean (ironic) slate each time.

Despite everything I have done and somehow, continue to keep doing no matter how much I try not, I’m still naïve. I’m still never prepared for the heavy, lustful anxiousness that comes with a first kiss. I can still never rip off my clothes with an assured confidence when I’m first with a man. “With a man”…what a nice way to put it. Shall I just say fuck? And no matter how many times I throw around the words fuck, cunt, cock, pussy and pound, I still believe in love. That cliché, take your breath away, undying, forever and ever love.

Yet for now, until that love finds me or until I stumble upon it. Stumble upon it in some dirty alley at 3 am in the morning while I try to find somewhere to take a piss because the squatter party I’m at, filled with people who consider themselves outsiders and elite (my unfortunate peers), doesn’t have a toilet or even a bucket or even some carpet. Well till that love and I crash, collide and fuck I suppose I will continue with my somewhat nymphomaniac and polygamous leaning ways. And every night when that sweaty, sharp edged body collapses off me or slips out of me or all of the myriad of ways he could empty me, I will look out of my window. With my sticky thighs and pink lips and matted hair, I will furiously gaze out of that window onto the brightest and wish, every night, that maybe this man is it.

image via enfes kitirli