Wednesday, August 6, 11:10 a.m.
Oh my God, my cybersex matchmaking site is overrun by faceless men.
Let me explain: I started this cybersex matchmaking site about a month ago called Beautiful Stranger. The idea was that people could go there to chat and eventually hook up with fun, intelligent cybersex partners. So far the site has around 50 members, which is decent for a little thing I put together in an afternoon. But as I feared might happen, the tides have quickly turned and the population, once 50/50 male/female, is now almost entirely male. Of the last 11 men to sign up, only two have bothered to upload pictures - which means theyre there for quick, easy online humping.
Woe is the head of the cybersex matchmaking site who doesnt have time to moderate, properly advertise, or fix up her little project. Proud, however, is the head of the cybersex matchmaking site whose few dedicated members have started forums like Cybersex Nightmare Stories and Married People: Does your spouse know? Way to go, people with photos and their cocks in their pants, thats interesting stuff! Now if only men would stop messaging me to help with my research. I know I asked for helpers, but I can only accommodate so many Beautiful Strangers at once. Plus, its not so appealing to receive emails that say, Can I still get in on that? Its like Im a pizza youre splitting for dinner...
Thursday, August 7, 4:42 p.m.
I feel guilty I'm making cheaters, liars, and two-timers pay $2.75 to contact me. There's something wrong here.
This week I've been doing research into Ashley Madison, the social networking site for people who want to cheat on their spouses. They're the same ones who pissed off Times Square by putting up a giant billboard that read, "Life is short, have an affair." The basic idea of their site is to safely connect men and women who "want a little something on the side" in addition to their marriages. The basic idea of their advertising campaign is get enough people angry they end up on Fox News.
Of course, in order to write the piece, I needed to know what the site itself was like, and that meant signing up for an account. Ashley Madison's CEO Noel Biderman had told me when I interviewed him that a woman didn't even need a photo or any personal info in her profile to get twenty potential affair buddies arriving on her digital doorstep. I guess I should have believed him. Within minutes of logging in, I had a stream of instant messages from men in the Bay Area. There was nothing so blunt as, "I'm married. You're married. Let's have sex," but plenty of "Do you come here often?"
Not being interested in having an affair -- for that matter, not even being married -- I didn't think anything of ignoring their messages, letting them flirt awkwardly to themselves. That is, until I remembered that Ashley Madison works on a pay model. While signing up is free, contacting people isn't. Users buy "credits" -- 100 for $55, last time I checked -- and have to use them whenever they want to chat up a new person. Each contact costs five credits. That means I cost each of those men $2.75.
Honestly, I feel really bad about that. Bad enough I considered blowing my humble research cover by posting a line in my profile that read "I'm a money sink-hole!" Still, there's something really weird about my priorities on this one. While I can't say I 100% support Ashley Madison on a personal level, my issues with them are based on the fact that they facilitate people who hide their affairs instead of encouraging openness. Of course, leave it to the poly girl to want spouses to communicate about their desires. In the overall though, the sacred institution of marriage isn't something I'm too worried about. The sacred institution of not wasting money, however, I feel pretty darn strong on.
Loose morals, tight budget. Maybe that's why I prefer cybersex to the hassles of real-life dating. Just as many people get off and no one has to pay for drinks.
Monday, August 11, 5:54 p.m.
New dating rule #1: if you write "cybersex" as "cyberseks," we will never meet in person. In fact, stop messaging me. Heck, stop existing all together.
That's probably too harsh. Alright, it's downright cruel. But even a cybersex and internet culture enthusiast likes yours truly can't help but shrivel up into a ball of un-sexiness when she receives a message on a dating site like OkCupid from a potential suitor who writes, "Lol'd at leet cyberseks skillz." Too... dorky... Must... not... reproduce...
Sure, the poor guy was just referring to the part of my OkCupid profile that says I'm good at cybersex (along with tying cherry stems with my tongue and singing the entire score of Les Mis by myself in a vehicle), but I think that blow has seriously shot down my libido -- at least until tomorrow.
To reach The Clickable Clit, write to bonnie [at] heroine-sheik [dot] com, or follow her exploits throughout the week at her cybersex blog, Cybersexy.