Love Sex

No, I am not a nun. Yes, I have sex. But I do not have a boyfriend. I have situations. I have dates. I have text messages.

He didn't really abandon me, since he couldn't really have stayed. If I can't be abandoned, and I can't control or fail to control someone else's behavior, then I can start to love.

There's no reason I shouldn't tell him. She and I are seeing other people now. I'm over it. And yet I still can't bring myself to say the words.

His profile said he stands at an elfish 5-foot-5, while I am an Amazonian 5-foot-10. What to do? Dare I dodge OKCupid's arrow and ignore a potential soul mate, just because of his height?

'You have your freedom,' my mom says to me, as if she's describing a place she's always wanted to visit but knows she'll probably never see.

The first time I read the now-famous sex letter she sent me, I was shocked and amused at her amazing openness and took it as a gesture of love. She truly wanted to help guide me in the only way she knew how.

I am obsessed with matchmaking. I produce thoughtful and educated pairings, middle-manning contact information for people I am confident will click. To date, I'm zero for four.

You tell yourself it's ok because you're not really cheating, you're just chatting. You're not having sex, you're just friends. Right? Not really.

As I pulled out my intricate "catchall" filing system (read: one large pile), I revived the tumult and triumph of 2011, one crumpled piece of paper at a time.

It was March 1987. The year Prozac made its debut. Gasoline was eighty-nine cents a gallon. Televangelist Jim Bakker had self-destructed, much the same way I had, by way of sex scandal.

Since that first relationship with an uncircumcised man, I've gone on to do more, er, field research, and I've anecdotally found that the intact make fabulous lovers. Here's why.

A few friends offered the obvious, caring response: You're honestly going on a date with someone who posted a Missed Connection that wasn't even about you on Craigslist? WTF. But I'm a believer in embracing the unexpected.

Wait, Valentine's Day is still happening? I figured that since I'm single and important, Hallmark would just call off the holiday and wait until I found love.

I dread most major holidays, but Valentine's Day is the most terrifying by far.

Mostly, I think we got very, very lucky. But along the way, we couldn't help but learn how to love each other better. Here's a little of what I've discovered along the way.

I think relationships get better with age, and mine certainly has. If I knew in my 20s what I know now, I would have avoided abundant heartache.

No offense to my 20-something sisters, but I wouldn't trade places with you for all of the mind-blowing orgasms in the world. So, here's a brief rundown of what I've learned.

While magazines, blogs, and talk shows are full of advice about how to make your lover explode with pleasure, lots of people aren't having sex as much as they wish they were. Here's why.

I realized that if I wanted to have a happy relationship, I had to have more of me intact. I knew how to merge, but I didn't really know how to stand on my own solid foundation.

If so many women had female sexual dysfunction, why didn't my mother tell me about it and why weren't my friends talking about it?

It's not that extraordinary that Gunn has had a rather long dry spell. The remarkable part is that someone with Gunn's visibility admitted it.

In my experience, a little sexual release here and there makes everything just a lit-tle more manageable.

My dream has come true: MTV gone back to the 80s.

You can continue to be angry and complain only as long as you take no responsibility for your own choices.

Have you ever gotten that craving for sex, but not for the usual reasons? After a particularly rotten date, a silly fight with one of my best friends,...