Toluu : One D at a Time

One D at a Time

I've never fought so much with a man until I agreed to marry one. The source of our beef? This blog.

He doesn't really read blogs, and he didn't know much about the stuff I've written here and in other places. We met through a mutual friend, fell in love within one week, went on vacation together three weeks later and became engaged shortly thereafter. The only thing we ever fight about is the fact that he wishes strangers didn't know so much about my sex life, mainly because he doesn't want to know about my past in that way. During one of our fights, when he was trying to explain his position, he yelled at me, "I'm not one of your fans!" That was way too reminiscent of Mommie Dearest for me.

But I like that he doesn't really have anything to do with this whole internet business and my line of work. Being with someone who has no interest in online feuds and commenters and traffic and shit is refreshing, keeps me grounded, and reinforces the often-blurred line between reality and virtual reality, an occupational hazard that can really be a mind fuck.

The irony is that this blog is effectively how we met. We were introduced by a mutual friend who I'd gotten to know because he read my work here and on Jezebel (a job I probably never would have landed, if I hadn't started this blog).

He keeps saying stuff to me like, "You could probably find someone else who is more accepting of your career." And he's right. I probably could. I just don't want to. It h

FAQ YOUSeptember 24

Ever since I announced that I'm getting married, I've received a lot of congratulations (thanks!), unsolicited comments from complete fucking strangers claiming to know why I decided to do this ("Deep down, all insecure sluts just want to be loved") and gleefully remarking about how I'll soon be divorced. I mean, I'm not gonna even attempt to get into the psyche of anonymous commenters. I just don't get their deal, and I never will. I can't imagine having the time on my hands to obsess about someone I claim to hate, follow their writing and then going out of my way to try to make them feel bad. (Not that it works, motherfuckers.) Anyway, I wanted to take some time to answer some frequently asked questions.

Now that you're getting married, does this mean the end of your blog?
Good question! I really don't know. I obviously have gone from one D at a time to one D all the time, so consuming men like they're tapas isn't a part of my life anymore. But what people who don't know me don't realize is that most of the sex stories I've written here weren't in chronological order or real time. It was more like picking and choosing some of the more outrageous stories over the past 12 years of fucking. It's kinda like the Weight Watchers technique of putting your soup in the refrigerator so that all the oil and fat will form a layer of scum along the top that you scrape off. So this blog has kinda been my presentation of the scum of my sex soup. I thi

Making a Ho a HousewifeSeptember 9

This is going to ruin my reputation as a slut.

Reader MailAugust 30

I get a lot of email from readers, and most of it is really nice and supportive. (I suck with correspondence. I have voicemail and email anxiety, so I rarely ever get back to people. Sorry.) But I get plenty of assy emails, too. It's completely beyond me why someone would want to take time out of their day to email a complete stranger to tell them they don't agree with their lifestyle. Like, do they really think that they'll have some kind of an impact on me? That after all the shit I've written on this site, their poorly-crafted email will change my life and my entire way of thinking, like, "Oh, yeah, I guess I am an immoral whore who should be ashamed of herself."

Sometimes the emails—like many of the trollish comments on this site—really remind me how close-minded, prudish, judgmental, and fucking sexist some people are. I received a string of emails recently from one such person, and I decided to share them.

From: RICK SCORSESE
Date: Mon, Aug 18, 2008
Subject: You are a lying sack of Shit

You brag about herpes and claim to keep it a secret? What a CUNT! Posting your shit on the internet doesn't mean anything asshole. You are spreading your disease to other people when you meet them on a date and end up fucking them. Did you know it's a crime to hide a disease from a sex partner? I hope you get canned.

From: RICK SCORSESE
Date: Tue, Aug 26, 2008
Subject: Re: You are a lying sack of Shit

You are

The Reason For Diseasin'August 5

The day I found out I had herpes, I left my doctor's office, walked the two blocks back to my job, sat down at my desk (gingerly...that shit was inflamed), and decided it would be a secret I would take to my grave with me. I was embarrassed, and more than that, afraid. I was convinced that if anyone knew, no one would ever have sex with me again, and then I'd eventually die alone. But then I got this job writing on the internet, and I have problems keeping my mouth shut and my fingers off the keyboard, so I ended up spreading my herpes, or rather, the news of it, online for everyone to see. Doing so was actually more of a relief than Zovirax.

I'm often asked if I regret anything I've ever written or disclosed. I don't. People wonder what could possibly be the merits of about being so completely upfront about this kind of shit. I find that laying the bad stuff all out there means that people can't have expectations of me being anything except exactly who I am. Sure, it leaves me open to ridicule, but I think when people do such things, it actually says so much more about them than it does about me. And it makes me feel good when I receive emails from people letting me know that I've helped them feel a little less ashamed about their own STDs.

Becoming less ashamed about social diseases is a process that you begin once you actually get one, and if you're getting laid, then it's kind of an eventuality. Thinking that STDs are shameful is a mark of immatu