Sexting and the curse of the common name

I’m pretty happy that my name is one of those names that everyone has heard of, but it’s not that common.  Most guys aren’t going to have several of me in their saved contacts (hint: my name here is a pseudonym).  But I can’t keep up with some of the common names of guys who I try to meet up with (and often fail).  I’ve certainly messaged with enthusiasm one David, only to realize he was the David I was lukewarm about.  And when I think someone has gone off to explore things with someone else (perfectly fine), I often delete their text thread as I don’t need to save texts with someone I will never meet for all time.  But this can lead to funny exchanges. Like yesterday’s…at least he ended up having a sense of humor about it (he eventually sent me his photo and then I knew who he was…and we ended up setting up a date for this weekend. But it is kind of funny to try to navigate sexting with someone who may be someone different than who you’re thinking of): IMG_1283IMG_1284


How sexting helped me learn to love my butt

I’ve never appreciated my butt.  When I was in high school and college, the hot girls had teeny tiny perky butts.  My butt is not teeny.  Nor tiny.  Perky would not be a term I’d use either.  To me, it’s just always been big. And something to hide rather than show off.

But a few weeks ago, I started worrying about whether my marathon training was going to cross over to the point where my butt would get too small (good news for my butt, bad news for my training, I injured myself and am not so worried about losing valuable butt fat).  Um. say wut? How did that happen?

Well, a natural part of this, uh, journey has been sexting and exchanging photos.  Figuring that it’s better to send a guy running due to my ample bum in advance of actually being in-person naked, when asked for photos, I generally oblige.  And, to my shock, the number of men who have asked for more and more photos of my ass has grown.

And I started looking at the photos more closely (or maybe less closely) to try to understand what they saw.  And I started to see it too…that, despite some cellulite and lumps, overall I have a butt that someone could grab on to.  Maybe it’s juicy.  Maybe it’s thick. I don’t know. But it’s feminine and kind of sexy.

Ok, should it require a male gaze of appreciation to get me to appreciate my butt? Sigh. Of course not.  But I might not have lived long enough to come to my own conclusion that I have a sexy butt without prompting of the male gaze to tell me that, yes, it is desirable; the objectification of my butt by some men caused me to look at my own butt differently and to see its positives.

I think most people my age think sexting is a terrible thing that will come back and bite “kids these days” in the butt (yes, pun intended). But maybe we’re missing out on the potential positives of normalizing the non-airbrushed, “normal” human body.  After all, I’m not sure I have seen many female butts (or boobs, or stomachs, or thighs) that don’t belong to actress/models with the benefit of photoshopping.  Maybe living in a world where the naked body isn’t so secretive is a better thing for self acceptance than covering it.

Or maybe I just like receiving the dick pics I get in exchange 😉