social media

Mourning Twitter, a Hellsite for the Ages

Kate Sloan

I’ve been very depressed this last week, and I’d be lying if I said it had nothing to do with the imminent demise of Twitter as we knew it. There are other factors, of course, but Twitter is a big one.

It’s been hard explaining this to people whose brains aren’t as broken by Twitter as mine is. I’ve been a user of the site since 2007, when I was 15 years old. I have never been an adult in a world without Twitter, and never really considered the possibility that I would have to. So it’s disorienting, to say the least, that an inept and egomaniacal billionaire is dismantling the site I’ve long considered my digital home-away-from-home.

Don’t get me wrong: Twitter isn’t perfect and never has been. Abuse has always run rampant on it, including a lot of homophobic, biphobic, misogynist and antisemitic abuse, which has felt viscerally frightening to me as a queer Jewish woman. It’s been a hub for disinformation, doomscrolling, and unsettling DMs. It has enabled racists, excluded sex workers, and let hate speech abound unchecked. And that’s just listing a few of the things that were (and are) wrong with Twitter.

But it’s also the place where I met my spouse, and my best friend/podcast cohost, and several other good friends and past partners. It’s the place where I’ve connected with editors, clients, and sources. It’s the place where I’ve shared my silly thoughts, my hot takes, my pain, my fury, and my joy.

The linguist Gretchen McCulloch argues in her book Because Internet that sites such as Twitter are the digital equivalent of a hallway at a high school or in a college dorm; they’re a place where casual, ambient socializing happens – as opposed to socializing that you have to specifically seek out and plan – and they therefore allow you to connect with people you might never have met otherwise. This feels very true to me – where else but Twitter could I chat with Tokyo-based game designers, London escorts and Texan law professors about current events in the course of a single hour?

Twitter was also, notably, one of the more sexually permissive mainstream social media sites. True, I know many people who got shadowbanned or outright kicked off the service for posting about sex work or BDSM, but nudes and porn are specifically allowed on Twitter and that automatically made it feel like a more welcoming place for me and my sex-nerd pals than, say, Facebook or Instagram, where we still have to self-censor with bastardized “words” like “seggs” and “secks” just to keep our accounts up-and-running.

I also maintain that Twitter is one of the best dating sites for demisexuals like me, because it allows you to get to know someone through their words first and their face second (if at all). I have far more Twitter crushes than Instagram crushes (or even IRL crushes) because I crush on people’s brains first and foremost, and Twitter made it easier than any other site for me to connect with people whose brains made my own brain tingle.

I loved Twitter, despite its many shortcomings and mistakes. I won’t be jumping ship immediately, especially since self-promotion is a big part of how I stay afloat professionally/financially so I can’t afford to leave the place where my biggest platform is. But if you’d like to follow me elsewhere – which I’d really appreciate, since I love y’all – here’s where to keep up with me:

  • This blog, obviously. I’m more convinced than ever that maintaining a self-hosted personal blog is the way of the future, given how many social media websites keep betraying us.
  • I’m @girly_juice on Instagram and that’s where I’m most active aside from Twitter.
  • My newsletter, where I send out a little essay on love, sex, and other random topics every week to my premium subscribers (it’s $5/month or $50/year). If you can’t afford a premium subscription, you can still sign up as a free subscriber and you’ll get free dispatches from me a couple times a year or so.
  • On Mastodon, which some people think will be Twitter’s major replacement, I can be found at @girlyjuice@mastodon.social – go follow me!

I love you, I’m glad you’re here, and I’m trying to look forward to whatever comes next.

 

This post contains a sponsored link, ’cause a girl’s gotta eat. As ever, all writing and opinions are my own.

Remotely Helpful, Part 3: Buddies & Boundaries

Kate Sloan

I’m back with more tips for working from home! These final 3 are crucial (but, frankly, all of them have been)…

#7: Find ways to combat loneliness.

Working from home is lonely as hell sometimes! Mostly I am okay with this, since I am super introverted and work best with minimal distractions (I still have nightmarish flashbacks to the office I once worked in that was filled with women in their early twenties constantly arguing about sex and dating). However, sometimes all that solitude is bad for morale! This is typically when I head out to a café (as discussed in my last post), text a friend for a mid-day chat, or schedule a co-working date with a pal if possible.

The most common way I deal with loneliness on the job, though, is social media. Twitter, Slack, Facebook, Instagram, Reddit: these services are often decried by productivity nerds for sucking up precious time and energy throughout the day, but used judiciously, I think they can be a godsend for lonesome freelancers. Where else could I gather on-the-fly opinions from my readers on stuff I’m working on, advice from fellow writers on methods and word choice, and terrible puns from sex-blogger pals across the globe?!

#8: Protect your time fiercely.

In my experience, if someone knows you work from home/are a freelancer, they’ll often assume that means you can do whatever you want whenever you want, deadlines be damned. I don’t know why they think this. It is annoying as fuck. Like, yes, I could step away from my computer for 2 hours on a Thursday afternoon to go see a movie with my mom or go shopping with a friend, and I appreciate offers to do so, but I don’t appreciate when those offers turn into pressure! This is even more aggravating when friends or family members see that you’re working but behave as though you’re playing a computer game or something – like they can interrupt you and distract you willy-nilly, because what you’re doing couldn’t possibly be real work, right?!

Now that I’ve gotten that rant off my chest… Being able to protect your time is really important as a freelancer. When a friend would ask me to hang out or do something for them, I used to say, “Sure, I’m free all day!” because that was technically true – my entire day was theoretically flexible and each item on my schedule was moveable. But nowadays, I’m more comfortable saying, “I’m free between [this time] and [that time],” or “I actually can’t, I have a deadline coming up, but maybe next week?” I’ve also gotten better at saying to people when they’ve interrupted me – in the politest way I can – “I have to get back to work now,” which elicits a surprised expression more often than you might expect. (Do these people… not know freelancing is work?!) This type of boundary-setting is mandatory for me if I’m going to get anything done ever.

#9: …but don’t forget to take breaks!

Trust me, your brainpower will eventually fizzle if you don’t give yourself enough downtime, and that type of burnout is really inconvenient when there’s a deadline around the corner! I understand the productivity-frenzied frustration of taking a break when you feel like you “have to” keep working – even if you’ve been working all day – but the “rest” part of the work cycle is truly just as important as the “work” part. Don’t lose sight of that!

I sometimes schedule things for myself specifically to force myself to take breaks – like buying a theatre ticket for a Friday night at the end of a busy week, or making plans to chat with a friend at a certain time so I have to get everything done by then and set aside my work for the day. I also like to use mid-day errands as a reminder to “switch off”: trips to the bank or the grocery store are restful compared to being hunched over a laptop, and I always listen to podcasts or music on my way to and from these places so my brain gets a little shake-up.

 

What are your top tips for working from home?

The 5 Essential Elements of a Good DM Slide

Kate Sloan

Ah, the delicate and controversial DM-slide! I remember nodding vigorously when I read Priscilla Pine’s essay “What Comes After Tinder?” and got to the part about Twitter. “Most of the friends I polled who were active Twitter users mentioned it as the app where they had had the most success meeting potential partners, and I know at least one person who eschews dating apps entirely because her DMs have been so fruitful,” Pine wrote (emphasis mine). “In a way, that makes sense: Twitter mimics traditional social interaction in that you can find new people via friends and observe their personalities and senses of humor over time before feeling compelled to proposition them for a date.”

It was a succinct statement of something I already knew to be true: that Twitter was the social platform likeliest to introduce me to new crushes and fan the flames of those feelings, and that Twitter was probably the platform on which I’d be most open to a stranger asking me on a date. Not proportionally, you understand – of 100 people who express interest in me on OkCupid or Tinder, I probably go out with 5 of them, whereas the same calculation on Twitter would be more like 1 out of 300 – but if I develop a Twitter crush, I’m way more motivated to turn our flirtations into an IRL date, if possible, than I am with online-dating randos. I’m already more-or-less sold on them, from consuming their brain in 280-character chunks.

Having met three romantic partners (this guy, this guy, and this guy) and three casual sexual partners (this guy, this guy, and this guy) via Twitter, I’m pretty clear on what I like and what I don’t like, vis-à-vis people sliding into my DMs. Here are 5 elements your next DM convo with a stranger should definitely possess…

Previous rapport. Like Bex says in our Dildorks episode about social media flirting, DMing someone you’ve never actually interacted with before (aside from, maybe, faving their tweets) is like going up to a stranger at a party, tugging them into a closet, and declaring, “I have to talk to you.” They’re probably gonna be freaked out and wonder what the fuck you’re up to.

Establish rapport by adding value to your Twitter crush’s life. Most of my successful DM suitors replied to my tweets with funny jokes, helpful suggestions (when requested), and supportive cheerleading – as relevant – before they dared take things to the next level by DMing me. This is important. When your name and face show up in my inbox, I should recognize them and ideally have a positive association with them from our previous interactions. Hint: if your crush has never faved, replied to, or otherwise acknowledged your public communiqué, they’re probably not interested – or you just need to build rapport for longer before you ramp things up.

A specific reason to message them. Bex recommends following up on a previous conversation the two of you had publicly – e.g. if you and your crush recently commiserated about something sad that happened on your mutual favorite TV show, you could DM them a link to a great article about the show a few days later and say, “Thought you’d like this!” Or you could DM them a link to a local event you think they’d enjoy attending, a thought you had about their latest blog post/podcast/tweet that seems too specific to say in a public tweet, or a thank-you for something they helped you with or introduced you to.

The first time my Sir DMed me, he was following up on a compliment I’d tweeted at him earlier in the day. “Hey Kate! Thanks for that compliment earlier, it made me blush,” he said. “You’re very cute yourself!” This is simple but it worked well because it gave me the opportunity to talk to him more if I wanted to (which I did) or to just say “Thanks!” and move on if I wasn’t interested. Similarly, my first DM from an erstwhile FWB was a response to me tweeting about being sad about the sexual dry spell I was going through at that time: “Sounds like we have similarly sparse dance cards lately,” he said. “Toronto’s been great for work, but surprisingly boring socially.” You’ll notice that this wasn’t a direct date-ask – he left me space to suggest we get together, if I wanted to, which I did – but was nonetheless relevant to our earlier public conversation.

Sometimes your specific reason for messaging them might just be wanting to ask them out. That’s okay, if done well. See “a statement of intent,” below.

An introduction. You might not need to front-load this into your first message if you think your crush is already aware of you and what you do, but it’s nice. Even something as simple as “Hi, I’m [name]! Long-time follower, first-time DMer” could be enough. Introducing yourself is respectful and polite. You probably wouldn’t go up to a stranger at a party and launch into a monologue without at least saying hello and telling them your name, so try the same thing in your Twitter approach.

My Sir did this in his second message to me. “I’m [name], a New York-based [job title]/sex nerd,” he wrote. “Recently found your work and your tweets and it’s all great stuff.” It was a concise statement of who he is, what he does, and why he followed me. Along with his respectful approach, it told me everything I needed to know in order to decide whether I wanted to get to know him better (I did).

A statement of intent. You probably don’t wanna put this in your very first message, because asking someone on a date (or whatever) before establishing rapport is risky, scary, and less likely to work. But if you do decide to ask your Twitter crush to meet up with you, you should give them some sense of what you’re actually asking. Don’t couch your romantic or sexual intentions in a vague request to “pick their brain over coffee” or “talk about [their work].” (And hey, if your intentions are strictly professional, or even casual or platonic, you should find a way to mention that, too. Less confusion = better results for everyone.)

You can straight-up tell them you’d like to take them on a date. You can tell them you’d love to get to know them better over coffee/drinks. You can suggest a specific activity you know the both of you enjoy (e.g. going to a comedy show), ideally one that’s culturally coded as date-y. You can disclose the nature of your feelings about them so they can infer you’re asking them on a date (e.g. “I think you’re really cute and cool and I’d love to take you out sometime” or “I’ve been crushing on you from afar for a while and would love to hang out in person if you’re into that”). My Sir said, “If you’re ever in New York and want to meet a Twitter admirer in person over coffee or something, I’d love that,” which is perfect because it expresses enthusiasm, indicates a specific activity, and gives me an easy out. So many good ways to ask cuties on dates!

Some fucking respect. Twitter isn’t a magical universe where you get to treat people like garbage. Those are real humans in there, so be good to them! Be polite, take “no” for an answer, and be appropriately apologetic if you fuck up.

Make sure you keep in mind, too, that someone ignoring your DM or declining your advances might not have much to do with you. They might be busy, or stressed, or going through a complicated situation of some kind. Don’t take this shit personally, if you can help it. You’re great, and there are always more Twitter crushes in the sea!

Have you ever asked someone out – or been asked out – via Twitter DM? How did it go?

5 Ways to Fuck Up Your Social Media Strategy As a Sex Blogger

Kate Sloan

I’ve been a sex blogger for almost six years, and here’s what I know about social media: it can make or break you, both professionally and personally. I’ve built my audience through smart usage of Twitter, Instagram, and the like, but a good social media presence has also brought many additional blessings upon me: editors at big publications have discovered me through my social feeds, I’ve been offered jobs and gigs because of my tweets, and I’ve even met several partners (past and present) on Twitter. Isn’t the internet wild?!

Here are five disastrous mistakes you can make on social media that will damage your brand and your reputation as a sex blogger, sometimes irreversibly. I have made a few of these mistakes from time to time and have learned from making them, hopefully. Do not do these things!

Treat your followers badly. One of my cardinal rules in my social media strategy is to be generally pleasant to my followers – so long as they’re not being rude, inappropriate, or wilfully ignorant (in which case I sometimes call them out on that). If someone shares your work, compliments a post you wrote, or is otherwise a good and uplifting follower, you should make them feel appreciated for that. Building a strong, supportive community on social media can be done the same way you’d do that anywhere: by being kind and welcoming.

Be sex-negative. You would think sex bloggers wouldn’t need to be schooled on the importance of sex-positivity, but some of them do. I’ve seen many bloggers shame other people’s kinks, make moral judgments about other people’s harmless sexual decisions, mock certain types of porn, or dismiss certain fantasies as “gross” even if they exist only as fantasies. There’s a debate to be had about these things, sure, but I think outright shaming people who aren’t harming anyone with their sexuality is best avoided, especially if you work in the sexual sphere. No one is going to trust you to educate them on sexuality if you’ve made them feel bad about themselves as a sexual person, even if you had no idea you were doing that when you tweeted that vaguely shamey thing.

Be body-negative. Likewise, making fun of people’s bodies is not cool, especially in the sex-positive pockets of the sex industry where such missteps are particularly frowned upon. This includes stuff like fat-shaming, ableism, penis size-shaming, and so on. If you’re making fun of a particular physical trait or condition, odds are, you’re hurting the feelings of someone who reads what you write. Don’t do it!

Buy fake likes and followers. People can tell when you buy artificial likes for your Facebook page or beef up your Instagram numbers with false followers. It’s not a good look. Building your audience is a slow process, but if you’ve done your research on blogging, you already know it isn’t a get-rich-quick scheme. So take the time to do it properly. Your audience will trust you more as a result.

Be inauthentic. I honestly think the #1 thing that’s helped me in my social media strategy is being real. I put my actual insecurities, fears, and weirdnesses out into the world, and it establishes a feeling of camaraderie between my followers and I. And crucially, that camaraderie is real, not just something I “put on” to achieve certain professional goals. I treasure my troupe of Twitter weirdos, and the reason many of them are so invested in me and my writing is that I show them a lot of me – the real me. It’s freeing to be so open, and to be accepted in all your strangeness!

Bloggers and blog readers alike: what do you think is most important in a sex blogger’s social media strategy?

 

Heads up: this post was sponsored, and as always, all writing and opinions are my own.

Social Media-Era Romance in 5 Vignettes

Kate Sloan

My unrequited love has changed his Twitter avatar, and just like that, I feel less in love with him. Poof. Pow. Wow.

The old picture was heavy with associations for me, months of misery tempered by sparse endorphin rushes when he would slide into my DMs. It was never the love confession for which I kept hoping and grasping; you’d think I’d learn by now not to expect anything from him but dawdling, awkward friendship. But no; I still want more. More than I’m ever going to get.

The new picture is an instant shake-up in my psyche. It takes a few moments, each time he messages me, for my brain to register that it’s him. Those moments aren’t much but they’re enough to distance me from my knee-jerk love reaction, a pause that is a prism, refracting my crush into questions to be pondered: How much do you actually like him and how much of it is just habit?

Maybe love is always a habit. Always just an addiction you have to kick. Maybe there are tricks that make it easier, like nicotine patches and impotent cloves. Maybe a Twitter avatar is no small thing after all but actually the big thing that kicks off a seismic shift, blessed and unexpected.

The bartender is fumbling with coins, pitchers, and a misfiring computer system. Unhappy customers crowd around the bar, waiting for their drinks, waiting to even be acknowledged. Welcome to Friday night at the Cavern.

“I wonder if we’ll ever get our drinks,” a British accent bemoans beside me. This stranger turns his good-natured smile on me like highbeams, and now I have a face to connect with the warm tweed that’s been rustling against my arm for the past five minutes. He looks like Prince Harry and Fred Weasley’s charming lovechild. Oh, hello.

We strike up an easy, tipsy rapport, and he pulls out his phone to show me a song on Spotify that he can’t get out of his head. My eyes sweep over his playlists, taking in the names. There is something so intimate about peering into someone’s music organization system, digital or physical. You’re seeing the soundtrack of their brain in the way they’ve chosen to arrange it, the way that makes most sense to them. It’s like resting a palm against the slickness of their coiled brain, feeling it pulse with private electricity.

Later, he comes to find me again, weaving through bar crowds to tap me on the shoulder. “I’m getting on a flight back to Britain in the morning and figured I’d seize the day and ask: want to go smoke a joint?” he proposes, and I do. “Great! I’ll be right back. I’m just going to change my outfit.” I nod, and he goes, but he’s gone about an hour before I decide he must’ve fallen asleep in his hostel room, and decide to leave.

I find him the next day by searching some of those Spotify playlist titles. I didn’t even have his name, but I had those. As I scroll through his tightly curated music selections, I feel the echoes of awkward hostel sex that could have been. Swing and a miss. Maybe I’ll meet another Weasley another day.

My habit of fantasizing too far forward about online dating suitors is exacerbated when they’re polyamorous. The way some folks compose their OkCupid profiles, I can creep not only my potential partner, but also my potential metamour.

On late nights with nothing better to do, I comb through these women’s compatibility questions, seeking the places where we touch and the places where we differ. I try to parse what it means that a man is into both me and her, what it says about him, what it says about me. I stack myself up against her obscure favorite bands, the outline of her lipstick, the cool candor with which she speaks of sex and food and Arrested Development.

The sore spots that ruffle my feathers are the spots tainted with internalized misogyny. When I’m burningly jealous she’s prettier than me and think, At least I’m smarter than her; when I hate her pink hair because it renders me a boring brunette; when I snort derisively at the pretentious Wes Anderson movie she’s chosen to quote, I know the patriarchy is whispering bitterly in the back of my brain. I rarely really hate another woman. I just hate the opportunities for which I’ve been told she’s my cruellest competition.

When I’m feeling happier and lighter, sometimes these metamour-creeping sessions turn into fantasies of their own. If I was dating her partner, we could go shopping together, get manicures. We could gossip over burgers and fries about his secret fantasies, his favorite blowjob tricks. We could be best friends who shared everything, and I do mean everything. It would be so cute, so sweet.

But I never quite follow through, both because online dating is exhausting and because I am too awkward and insecure to pursue friendships with metamours without reservations. I hope one day I work through this, because I still dream of that girl beside me at the nail salon, sharing the weight of my heart.

The new boy I’m flirting with asks-without-asking: “I had a crush on you, but I didn’t think I was being that obvious about it. Apparently I was wrong.”

He was wrong. But he probably doesn’t know the exact moment I realized he like-liked me. It was when he left a comment on an Instagram photo of me in lingerie: “I unhearted this, just so I could heart it again.”

He must have written this so that I would know. And I did know. Because people don’t write Instagram comments like that unless they like you. They just don’t.

When my last serious boyfriend first introduced himself to me via Twitter DM, he provided a list of links to his other social media. An Instagram profile, an alternate Twitter handle, a full name so I could Google him. “I don’t use Facebook, though,” he wrote, “because Facebook is the devil.”

He meant this in an anti-capitalist, anti-surveillance-state, anti-terrifying-algorithms sort of way, but Facebook is the devil in a different way, too. Facebook lets people linger in your life who haven’t earned the right, simply because unfriending them feels too aggressive, too unwarranted. What he did was bad, but it wasn’t UNFRIENDING-bad, you know?

What he did actually was unfriending-bad, though, in that he ended our relationship suddenly and unceremoniously, after reassuring me for four months that he had no intention of doing this. But as he didn’t have Facebook, I never had the chance to unfriend him. I had to settle for deleting the messaging app I’d used to communicate with him and unfollowing him on Twitter. (What he did was unfollowing-bad, but it wasn’t blocking-bad, you know?)

What’s nice about his Facebooklessness is that there wasn’t much damage to undo when things went sour. No unfriending to attend to, no photos to untag myself from, no relationship status boxes to uncheck, no mutual friends to bicker over. He never got entrenched in my digital life, so when he left my physical life, he dissolved from the digital, too, like a ghost. Poof. Pow. Wow. And that was all.