I haven't yet.

Um, Hi. I'm back. Just managed to reestablish net access. Miss Ed, I will tell you what my father told me (in the most enlightened and helpful sex talk of anyone I know): Sex is not inherently bad, dirty, evil, anything like that. However, it is a very powerful experience and it can be incredibly beautiful or incredibly hurtful. I waited until I was ready (I was 17 , but it's different for everyone) and deeply in love in the way that never happens again after you get old and cynical. It was the most beautiful experience of my life. I saw visions. Yes, it hurt, not much, but some. The pleasure outweighed the pain and it felt very right. IMPORTANT: If I had rushed into it, it would have been miserable and traumatic. Nobody but you can tell you when you're ready. When you think you're ready, wait a week, and if you still feel you're ready, go ahead. But don't let anybody else tell you you're immature (Being in touch with your feelings and needs shows a wisdom beyond your years) or dirty (Sex is not dirty. Sex is sacred. Sex is a powerful experience, but that doesn't make it a sin.) Don't reject the sexual part of your being. Do treat it with the respect it deserves, by waiting until it's right. Good sex is worth waiting for. On another note, my own problematic sexual experience: I have always been very sexual. I went through a period where I slept with a lot of people and it has ceased to mean anything to me. It's like any other bodily function to me now. I mourn the loss of the pro I read this William Gibson story (" Winter Market", or "The Winter Market" It's in the *Burning Chrome* anthology), and there's this woman who has massive nerve damage and she's in this carbon-fiber exoskeleton because she's totally paralyzed. She tries to get the protagonist to have sex with her. She can't feel it, but she says she likes to watch. I read that and I cried. I feel like I have developed this psychotic detachment from what I have always considered to be an important part of my being. I guess you get used too many times and you learn to insulate yourself. I value the freedom of that era, and I sware that I would never regret it, even though I knew there would come a time when I would not want to do that anymore. I was never a "slut", I was just enjoying myself. I always valued myself, I just chose to share pleasure with a lot of partners. I went into it with a totally healthy attitude. And I still got used. And even if I come six times these days, it's just an orgasm. It's just a bodily function. It doesn't mean anything. It's like I'm suffering from some sort of psychic frigidity. Maybe none of this makes sense. I'm not sure what my point is. Any ideas?