An Open Letter To The Men I've F*cked: You're Welcome And Thank You

To the lucky guys I've f*cked,

First, and most importantly, you're welcome. You're part of the Most Elite of the Elite clubs and you should be proud of what you accomplished by getting into my pants.

Not every man will join your ranks, so never forget how important the time you got to spend with me was.

Secondly: Thanks! We had some good times together and I learned a lot from each of you in turn.

I learned how my body works. I learned how to feel good about myself and I learned how awesome it is to make someone else feel good, too.

I learned that above all (and contrary to my religious upbringing), sex is super-fun and exciting and should be indulged in by consenting adults as often as they like.

As a lady who's very loudly and proudly sex-positive, I think about you guys a lot.

(Also: I hope you know my friends know everything about you. Everything. All of it.)

A few special shout-outs:

To the second guy I ever slept with:

My first boyfriend cheated on me constantly, and though I knew it deep down, I never openly acknowledged it or how it made me feel.

You, on the other hand, worshiped the ground I walked on and made me feel beautiful, and were so obviously excited to be with me that it made me realize I was good and worth someone's time and energy. We were doomed from the start, but thank you for loving me.

To the first guy who made me orgasm:

My friends make fun of you but please know that I have nothing but affection and gratitude in my heart for you. Sex was more or less a good time before you came around but I had no idea what I was missing.

I think you were alarmed by my reaction, but I was unprepared. Thank you, truly.

To the over-grown manchild:

Thanks for teaching me what whiskey dick is and also for teaching me that I don't have to keep people in my life who aren't worth my time. A little tip, free of charge: Foreplay. Look into it.

To the two jackhammers:

Guys. Stop. This is the worst. Why do you think this feels good? This doesn't feel good. This has never felt good.

If you're just looking to jack off, please don't involve my body. Do that on your own time.

To the older man:

Wow. The things I learned from you, both about what my body can do and about what to do with a man's body...

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I was 22, you were 38, and I sincerey hope you never felt even slightly skeezy about that because I fully admit to100 percent of the pursuing.

Also, you were the first non-official-boyfriend man who's ever held my hand in public while we were just out for a beer, and I remember being so impressed by that little act. "Oh, this is how adults do it!"

To my first vibrator:

Yes, you were small, pink, glittery, and had a butterfly as a clitoral stimulator. Yes, you were purchased on a dare. Yes, you sat in your box in the very back of my bottom dresser drawer for weeks before I found the courage to give you a go. But wow, what a game changer.

You taught me things about my body that no other human ever could have and you were adorable while you did it. Honestly, one of the worst experiences of my life was when your motor gave out mid-session.

Remember how I cleaned you, put you in a baggie, and quickly drove to the sex store to beg for the exact same thing? Ah, the memories. I've moved on to bigger and better vibrators, but I will never forget you.

To the married man:

I know you told me you were married before any physical lines were crossed, I know you put that ball in my court, and I know I was the one who ran with it.

I have a weakness for guys who have a dash of cockiness and splash of sincerity, mixed well with a "don't give a f*ck" attitude, and you were the perfect blend. It was a selfish decision on my partbut dude, you made the vows, not me. Sack up and either keep them or leave them, but don't skulk amongst the shadows.

To my last ex:

I have so much love for you, I really do. You and I had the best time together but we simply didn't click on a sexual level. I don't know why.

I was comfortable enough with you to tell you what I wanted and how but either you weren't in the same place with me, or you simply didn't know how to tell me.

I think you were always a little apprehensive that I had more sexual partners than you, and I wish you weren't. I felt judged, sometime and that feeling is extremely inhibiting. We could've had much more fun.

To the hot bartender:

You. Are. So. Hot. Like ... how? What? A high five to myself for you. I hold the memories of our nights (and mornings) together very, very close to my, um, heart. Yeah, close to my heart.

To the guy I'm currently f*cking:

I dig our arrangement. I'm not trying to be your girlfriend, I don't want to meet your parents, and even though you have an amazing apartment, I don't want to live there.

I really appreciate how we're on the same page about that. Meeting for sex once a week, no games or nonsense or hurt feelings — just dinner, a drink, and an itch that gets scratched. It's perfect. See you next Wednesday.

To all the guys I'll f*ck one day:

So excited to meet you. I can't wait.