“I’m excited that they’ve broken free of whatever messages we all receive about how a women is ‘supposed’to act, and instead they are bent on active however they damn well please.”
Standing the post office decorated with silver PO boxes and uniformed employees with navy trousers and baby blue shirts, I use fingernails and teeth to tear open the bubble wrapped coated envelope. My friend Rachel’s freshly published book, Fast Girls: Erotica for Women, has arrived. Yay! I’m really proud of Rach for churning out another smart and interesting project. A Fast Girl, she writes in Fast Is A (Sexy) State of Mind, “[is] the kind of babe who takes no prisoners, who owns her life and her sexuality and not only doesn’t apologize for them, makes sure you notice her and what she’s all about.” My eyes zoom over the next words, commas and periods as I read about women I aspire (and am inspired) to be.
“What I love about these fast girls is that even as they are bold, daring and dynamic, they have a thing or two to learn about sex and themselves [...] It’s not about trying to slut it up to impress anyone, but about finding what works for you [...] I’m excited that they’ve broken free of whatever messages we all receive about how a women is ‘supposed’ to act, and instead they are bent on active however they damn well please.”
As New Yorkers trickle in and out of the building to pick up their mail, I whip out my phone. Flashing pictures in the 1.0 post office, I send 2.0 images of the book’s cover to my Twitter, Facebook and Foursquare. In 140-character updates, I congratulate Rachel and encourage people to buy her book. A thin fellow brown person a few inches from my left shoulder — a guy who appears to be in his mid-40s — raises an eyebrow. I garble rapid sentences to explain, but his expressionless face morphs as he drags his mouth’s left corner to a smirk. Crawling my body with his glance, he slowly responds, “I like that.” Taking pause, I’m suddenly acutely self-aware of how I possibly appear in his eyes. He makes me feel dirty as I imagine the story he might tell a group of guys later.
HIM: “Okay, so, I’m at the post office on 42nd Street, right? In walks this black woman. She’s stands shoulder to shoulder with me. Then, she gnaws open a package of lesbian smut with a white girl on the cover and starts taking pictures of it like she’s the fucking paparazzi and this book is a celebrity.”
HIS DUDES: “What?!?! You’re lying. This sounds like one of those Penthouse Variations letters.”
HIM: “See, that’s my point. The girl casually mentions her friend actually WORKS at Penthouse. It’s the same girl who sent her the book.”
HIS DUDES: “Sounds like this chick was hitting on you. So, what’s the book?”
HIM: “You ready for this? Fast Girls: Erotica for Women.”
HIS DUDES: [high fiving each other] “I bet she’s a freak!!!! Did you get her number?”
And, here’s where I get to my point. Yes, the guy in the post office asked for my number. No, I didn’t give it to him. (I’ve already been going on dates with a couple guys, and I’d slept with one of them the night before. Not looking for additional dudes.) I could be completely wrong but, from his reaction and our brief interaction, I got the impression the guy at the post office thought I was a freaky, slutty, horny lesbian looking to turn him out. I could turn him out if I wanted to, but I’m not a freaky, slutty, horny lesbian. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. In fact, if this country needs anything, it’s more freaky, slutty, horny lesbians. But, we also need more men who understand how to handle women who are extremely comfortable with their sexuality. At the moment, the assumption is often: You must be one of those fast girls.
Yes, in fact, I am. However, it remains to be seen how many guys really understand what that means. Are you a fast girl? Do you want to know more about these women? Read Fast Girls: Erotica for Women. I know, a shameless plug for a friend’s book, right? Here are a couple recommendations for books written by people I don’t know personally: Sexy Book of Sexy Sex arrived the same day Rachel’s did, and Erotic Revolutionaries: Black Women, Sexuality, and Popular Culture has been shipped. It should arrive in my box shortly; wonder what reaction I’ll receive at the post office for that one.
