Oh, I really hate it when this happens. I got an email today from someone who says she’s a sixteen-year-old girl. She says she really loves my blog, it’s taught her a lot about sex work and about her sexuality as a kinky person. She said the two words I really didn't want to hear: role model.

Sweet Jesus Christ. Emails like this greatly disturb me. I’ve written before in The Stranger about how profoundly uncomfortable I am with this, but allow me to expand on those thoughts here, just for the record.

My writing is not suitable for anyone under eighteen, period. I haven’t bothered with a lot of disclaimers and yes-I’m-an-adult-click-through windows on this blog, because I know damn good and well that is not going to stop anyone. Emails like this tempt me to do so, however, because at least I’d be able to point to them and say, “Hey, kiddo, you don’t belong here.”

The reason why under-eighteen people do not belong here is that many discussions of even the most private, vanilla, and monogamous adult sexuality assume a certain level of maturity and sophistication on the part of the participants. No matter how bright and smart and mature-for-their-age a teenager is, they don’t have that.

Now, you can argue that celebrating one’s eighteenth birthday does not automatically confer those qualities upon someone, and you’d be right. However, that is the mark at which our culture deems someone adult, and I think it’s appropriate to make a separation. When it comes to discussions of sexuality, under-eighteen people belong in environments designed for them, like Scarleteen.com.

What I do here is tell amusing stories about some very sophisticated expressions of sexuality. I’m not teaching lessons in a purposeful way - I write to entertain people. I think that perhaps because of my connection with The Stranger, people equate me with Dan Savage. No. Dan is a professional advice-giver. I am a professional dominatrix. Sure, I tell people my take on stuff. But grown-ups proceed through life at their own risk. We don’t let under-eighteen people do that, because they can’t be expected to understand all the ramifications of their behavior. I love my life, but there are risks and downsides that go along with my sexual choices that you simply cannot fully grasp when you’re so young. I’ve made my peace with them, but it’s not right for you to make those kinds of decisions now.

I’m aware that I’m well-known in certain circles, but celebrity does not equal role model. I don’t even think of myself as a role model for other adults, for god’s sake, and I am really, really not an appropriate one for a teenager. Legally, it’s a very bad idea for me to even write back to a minor to tell them I can’t give them advice. I definitely can not have any type of conversation about sex with any minor, ever.

(Parents, I know you can’t watch your kids every second, but hey! Your child is sending emails about her sexuality to strangers. You can't think that's a good idea. Maybe you should talk to them about that, if you haven’t.)

If you’re under eighteen, I wish you would not read me, but I am sure that won't stop you. So let's make a deal - if you like my writing, and you’d like to do something for me, here's what I want. I’d like you to look upon this blog as a description of a foreign land. Some distant place you might visit or even live some day. But not today, so please, don’t write me and ask me for directions.

An article on MSNBC.com about Seattle's own Wet Spot, recently renamed the Center for Sex Positive Culture. I can't say I'm completely ecstatic about the whole piece. Mr. Alexander seems a bit too eager to underline how he's just observing, you know, he doesn't really do this kind of thing himself. He says:

"BDSM is a lot of work, which may be why I’ve never taken to it. I’m more the “feed me grapes and bring me wine” sort of hedonist."

Doesn't exactly make the author sound like a ball of fire in bed, does it? If "work" equals some planning, some shopping, and some physical effort, then vanilla sex can be a lot of work, too. But many people seem to feel that it's worth it.

Still, perhaps I am too picky. For a conservative mainstream news outlet, it's not a terrible piece. I have certainly seen us portrayed far less flatteringly. I will have to get the book and see who else he met that I know.

I will remark, though, that terms like "sexploration" are tired. They are over. They are so 1990. If you want to write about sex, I beg you, do not just slap an s in front of any word beginning with ex and think it's all edgy and hip. It is not.

(A tip of the hat to Chris and Miss D for reminding me of this article.)

Notes from a weekend
What did I do over the weekend? Well, I went to a pal’s birthday party, where I gave a cute boy an impromptu lesson in “How to Give A Lap Dance”. He proved an apt pupil, but his “customer” was very rambunctious – she kept grabbing him, and everybody knows you don’t touch the dancer! (Unless you tip very heavily. And the manager’s not looking.)

Afterwards, two other way-hot boys, who had apparently been paying attention to my lesson, gave me lap dances. Mrrrow! It was quite special.

Later on, I got to use my stun gun on the sensitive bits of a certain boy. (Photo). I love doing that. It wasn't really my scene, I was just the opening act. (You know it's going to be a good night when a stun gun to the nads is the warm-up. Heh.) People watching us were kidding him a bit about flinching, but let me just say, in my best Samuel L. Jackson voice: “Hey, anyone who lets me use a stun-gun on their cock and balls is a bad-ass mothafucka in my book. You best not tease the man unless you want to drop your pants and show us you can do better.”

(Which one man did. At least, that's what I think he was saying. It was a little hard to hear him inside that leather hood. But his friends said he was, and the muffled noises did seem to be indicating consent. And I haven’t heard from his lawyer, so I figure it’s all good.)

I missed my darling Monk, but he’s apparently doing quite well in Boston, in both the retail and the personal sense. I look forward to the stories.

Auto Updates
What else did I do over the weekend besides zap people with stun guns? I looked at cars. BMW and Audi, specifically. Car-buying is weird in that it’s very technical, and yet also very personal. I have gotten a lot of nice emails from knowledgeable people with good advice on what to buy, and that's cool. But it's sort of like dating - no matter how suitable someone is, if you're not attracted, you're just not attracted.

I drove a BMW 328xi and an Audi A4. They were both quite nice. The BMW was a shade more responsive, but it was an all-wheel drive model, and I couldn’t get over how heavy it felt. Like a tank. I haven’t checked the weight of the various cars, but I would bet the BMW weighs the most.

The Audi felt similar to my Saab – not as powerful, but lighter and more effortless to drive, if that makes any sense. However, the one I test drove had one of those little multimedia screens in the dash, and I would have to have one without that. They’re just annoying. This is a car, not my living room.

I came away liking both the BMW and the Audi in general, although I didn’t fall in love with either of the particular ones I drove. I am also going to go look at some Mercedes C-class. At some level I feel a little crazy even looking at Mercedes, because, you know, they’re Mercedes. I just don’t think of myself as the kind of girl who drives a Mercedes. (Plus, I have heard that they are not terribly reliable and a huge amount of trouble to maintain.) But they’re very pretty cars, and the prices on the baby ones aren’t out of reach, so I’ll go look. I've fallen in love with less likely candidates.

A Note To My Lovely Readers
Can I just tell you all how much I like you? I do. You rock, dear readers of mine. I love that you send me nice emails telling me how much you liked something I wrote. I love that you pass along bits of information you think would be useful to me. I love that when I tell you how someone is messing with me, you all take up for me. That’s really sweet and wonderful. You’re awesome. Thank you.