“The numbers that survive in my phone don’t belong to those boys and men who were best at fucking me, but the ones who were, and are, best at telling me how—and why, and where, and also in which places—they would fuck me. I know where my priorities lie; here is where they tell the truth. Good sex is a miraculously dependent and alchemic performance, never with one author. It could take more than two, but never fewer. Good sexting, though, is an uncommon skill, almost concrete, not improved by lighting or blood alcohol content or desperate circumstances or any other measures. It is better in dialogue but doesn’t have to be; it’s a thing you can do to someone with literally nothing but their consent and attention. You can even keep your clothes on, if you’re so inclined. This is what I mean about priorities. Good sex I can usually leave wherever I found it, but good sexters I keep forever in my pocket.” - Sarah Nicole Prickett
Let us admit something – we are totally plugged into our technology. Our phones and computers are serving more and more all of the time as mediums of sex-play. This is no longer only the realm of long-distance lovers forever yearning for each other’s flesh, this is the arena of new courtships, old connections and anything in between.
Sexting is both exciting and comfortable – we are beckoned to be creative yet we do not actually have to ‘perform.’ It provides us with the infinite space to explore our deepest desires, but does not put us on the spot as physical encounters do. Sexting is like a costume for the sexual self – allowing us to try new things, new personas, ideas, whims on for size – with fewer consequences.
Although we are no longer in the long, languid age of writing secret throbs of lust with quills and ink, 
and perhaps some of you believe there is an air of romance which is missing from this, it is truly the same idea, and I think it should be embraced. The instant nature of instant messaging allows for sexting to be a collaborative effort which can add so much dimension and excitement to a sexual relationship. I remember being up late one night online and an ex-boyfriend fromseveral years ago happened to be as well. We conversed amiably for a while until suddenly we were talking each other through having sex with one another, real-time. The heat, the tension, even the ragged breath – it was all there. It was fucking hot, and left me flushed and frustrated, in the best way. It was poetry in motion, just like real sex is.
As Baudrillard said,
“Seduction is always more singular and sublime than sex
and it commands the higher price.”
