My name is K. Witch. I’m a 33-year-old travel writer who lives in Asia working as an editor of an English language newspaper. I am not having, nor have I ever had, enough sex. Period. I curse. I love to talk about my breasts, sex, travel and music.
The Sex That Got Away is defined as men with whom I either had a single, significant encounter or men whom I casually or seriously dated, but we didn’t have sex; and now that I’m pickier and sex is less abundant, I really, really wish we had. Some of the men I loved. All of them left an impression. All of them would have been willing participants.
The Sex That Got Away Diaries is a blend of fiction and non-fiction based on these relationships.
I need to be able to do four things in order to be attracted to a man sexually. I must get tingles when I’m in his presence or even when I just think about him. I must be able to imagine him kissing me tenderly on my forehead. I must be able to imagine us lying in each others arms in bed saying nothing. And, I must be able to imagine me performing woman on top.
When I reflect on the sex I’ve had, I would say I’ve been a moderately lucky woman. I’ve had my fair share of homeruns. I’ve had a few foul balls; not just the kind of foul balls that limp a little outside the lines. I mean the kind that fly into the stadium and knock a diehard fan in the chest. I try to etch those memories out of my mind. I’ve often forgotten to include them when I reminisce about how adequate my sex life has been.
There is a big handful of men, The Sex That Got Away, who I’d like to substitute in their places. I often think to myself, “what would sex have been like with them?” When I fantasize about what sex would be like with these men, it’s always good. Why have bad fantasies?
These men date back to high school when I was not sexually active until just this year. Each relationship has a story. As complicated as some of the stories are, it’s astonishing sex didn’t happen really. I haven’t ruled out a journey to visit each of them to turn these fantasies into real encounters. But, for now, I’ve got my imagination. In between fantasies, I’m also trying to find someone new with whom I can make love, so I can have all the sex my body desires. Why is this so difficult?