One more little story from BlogHer. Although the hotel provided yummy food, I really wanted to connect with people whenever possible over smaller meals at restaurants.
The opportunity to go to a Chinese restaurant with some of my favorite bloggers and a few new faces presented itself Saturday night. I sat next to a lovely young woman I didn't know. She had long red nails, cascading hair, and a slinky dress. To me she looked Eastern European, vulnerable, and oh-so-young. I went directly into mother-hen mode, hoping to make her feel comfortable being around all of these older, more experienced (a-hem!) women.
Upon introducing myself, I found out she was one of the speakers. At the sex session. Yep, BlogHer held an enthusiastically attended session on sex, or Sex Bloggers, or blogs about sex, or something to that effect. I didn't attend, but I did pass by a table after the session where sponsors were handing out accessories...accoutrements, okay, appliances that related to what was discussed in the session.
I got an eye full, and was quite intrigued to see that one item was shaped like a duck (!) but I admit I skirted the table at a brisk pace. I had the bizarre fear that one of the items would mysteriously jump into my swag bag and I'd have some 'splaining to do back home. "Mom, if this is an electric toothbrush, where's the brush part?"
While I know objects can't leap into tote bags, it reminded me of an irrational fear that would grip me whenever I walked across a bridge as a kid. I'd keep a death grip on my Bermuda bag because I could actually visualize myself involuntarily hurling it over the edge.
Weird, I know. Okay then.
So while there is nothing wrong with having a sex talk at BlogHer, I did not attend the session, I am not super comfortable talking about intimate subjects, I did not pick up any session-related goodies, and here I was sitting net to the BlogHer's resident Sex-pert, in the flesh!
I took a deep breath and asked her how she thought her session went. She told me she wished there had been more time to break into smaller groups according to particular fe*tishes. Dear Lord. "Waiter, more white wine, STAT!"
You see I'm just not a va-va-voom person. I didn't get involved in Pre-marital sex and I'm sorry to say I'm often too tired to get real revved up for During-marital sex. Now before you start giving me advice about what I should have picked up from the giveaway table, let me just say that is not the direction this post is supposed to take. Move along people.
I guess my point is that my sitting next to the sex-pert seems a bit incongruous, or at the very least wasteful. Her Sex-pert-ness was wasted on me. You see, I really didn't have much to offer, and I sincerely did not want to find out any specifics about her hobbies. I know myself, and I know how certain info or images can mess with my brain, even at age 40, so I just didn't want to go there. I remember reading a Vanity Fair article about F*urries a few years back and I'm still traumatized.
In the end, it was a positively lovely evening, and the talk centered around blogging, family, jobs, kids and pretty mild subjects. All of my tablemates were beyond charming, and the convo stayed PG-13.
In trying to wrap up this post I encountered a figurative language FAIL. I was trying to find just the right word picture: "Seating Anna next to the Sex-pert was like putting Ronald McDonald next to Julia Child." Too creepy. "Putting Anna next to the Sex-pert was like putting a paint by numbers next to a Warhol." Not loving that either.
Soooooo, if you can think of a better way to say what you think I think I'm trying to say, I'd be grateful. I may even send you some sort of prize. Just remember what little gift-y I didn't pick up at BlogHer. Sorry.