I once accidentally set my apartment on fire because of sex, or the pursuit there of.
Was doing my amorous best, back in ’99, to earn the favors of a lady, when I accidentally knocked a pillow on top of a three-wick candle and everything went up like The Hindenburg. Since then: no candles in the bedroom. Things are dangerous, man.
TMI? Well now it’s your turn: take the InsideHook Sex Survey.
Takes two minutes. You tell us about your predilections and peccadilloes in the sack, we give you the chance to win a $100 AmEx gift card.
And then we’ll publish the anonymized results in a piece we call Sex and the American Man.
After all, we’re all God’s little self-conscious creatures. We all want to know the answer to those grand questions: Am I normal? How much sex is everybody else having? And is it any good?
Not to mention: Everything that was once verboten — BDSM, polyamory — is now widely discussed. When it comes to sex these days, we are all, to borrow Heinlein, strangers in a strange land.
But that’s a blessing. We live in the age of abundant information. You can take a short walk to Starbucks and, by reading your iPhone, come back remarkably well-informed about everything from Benedict Cumberbatch’s lifestyle choices to whether it’s OK to like a finger up your ass.
So let’s talk about it. Let’s talk about sex.
And don’t worry about my apartment. Nothing a little paint and inspired spackling couldn’t handle.