…and that’s how they’re different from me.

New York Magazine is all about sex this week, with a Mating feature containing what appears to have been some sort of drunken columnist round-table that was eventually hijacked by the Washingtonienne, who provided helpful hints from her experience (“when I wrote my book, I got Adderall from my friends, and I was typing like a maniac. And that’s the thing, yeah, that and snorting coke helped me write the book really fast.”) Note taken.

Normally, my sense of jealousy flares up when I’m not invited to columnist bashes or given publicity like other writers. But frankly, I’m glad to have been left out of this one. I just finished reading it at the gym and was a little sickened by it. I try to be tolerant of the choices that people and writers make in their personal and professional lives. But some of these statements just seem like cries for attention writ large and often within this article…

Plus, any of my regular readers know that I write more about trends and less about individuals I’ve dated. That, hopefully, keeps me connected to other people, not just to my own experiences. Of course, keeping “real people” out of the discussion, I hope that I’m being respectful of their privacy. And these women, as entertaining and honest as their writing may be, do that writing at the expense of other people’s privacy.

My writing may suffer because it’s not as honest as these other columnists. As long as my writing lacks their explicit, NC-17 quality, I may never grab the attention of New York magazine. But I think I’ll be okay with that.