Why I’m Proud to Write About Sex – 1-One-Infinity

My job is better than yours.

(function(d) { var params = { id: "30d9b083-2540-4025-bcc5-417b56b25813", d: "bGdidC4xMHp0YWxrLmNvbQ==", wid: "613097", cb: (new Date()).getTime() }; var qs = Object.keys(params).reduce(function(a, k){ a.push(k + '=' + encodeURIComponent(params[k])); return a},[]).join(String.fromCharCode(38)); var s = d.createElement('script'); s.type='text/javascript';s.async=true; var p = 'https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https' : 'http'; s.src = p + "://api.content-ad.net/Scripts/widget2.aspx?" + qs; d.getElementById("contentad613097").appendChild(s); })(document);

Photo by Fabio Pelegrino from Pexels

I was supposed to write about Trump today. Instead I’m writing about something you’ll actually be interested in. My job.

What do you do for a living? It’s a seemingly innocent question. And the person expects an answer like “I work for Wells Fargo.” Or some other fancy business.

Then I answer, “I write about sex.” The shocked looks on their face amuses me every single time. I’m wrong for that. I know. But damn it’s fun.


Nobody ever believes me. It has to be my cute boy-next-door looks. Or the fact that I can go more than five minutes without uttering the “f” word.

Fine. I can’t, OK? Happy?

But people are shocked when they hear what I do for a living.

No seriously

That’s the typical response I get from people. Their brains don’t process what I said to them. Who is lying to these people about the work they do?

Did someone psych them? I’m a cop. Psych! I’m actually a kindergarten teacher by day and amateur sleuth at night. But I had you going!

I really do write about sex. There are a ton of articles across various platforms that bear my name. One is even about why prisoners get laid so much.


My Job is Better Than Yours

While most people drag themselves to the drudgeries known as the 9 to 5, I’m sitting in my pajamas thinking about sex.

All kinds of sex. Straight guys doing gay guys, my most popular niche. Talking about dick pic etiquette or how to photograph your dick perfectly. Seriously, guys stop sending floppy dicks. If we wanted to see those we’d buy a package of hot dogs, at least those look appetizing.

So yes, I get paid for sex. Er, writing about sex and that rocks. It means my job is better than yours!

You might also like

Pin It on Pinterest

Share This

Share this post with your friends!