It's easy to find remarks about the writing of sex, people saying they find any mention of sex boring, offensive, it squicks them out, makes them feel like they're intruding in private matters--all standard complaints.
I understood their point, thought I couldn't really empathize until I started following the work of a good writer. She's funny and smart, but I decided to stop reading because she harped on a topic I thought really wasn't particularly my business or that I found interesting.
I'd read a passage and think:
Why on earth do I want to know something so entirely private?
Or, why do you think I should care about the details?
Or, close the damn door!
Or, yeah, yeah, get onto the next part. Get back to the other stuff.
Or, sure, it's really that great for you? That ecstatic every time you do this? Surely that's an exaggeration?
Or, don't you have a more interesting way to Express Love?
Or, you sure are self-righteous about this. Get over yourself.
Only she wasn't writing sex or writing about writing it (like I'm doing) . She was writing about her relationship with her God and prayer.
Oh, okay. I get it now.
I'd publish details, but she's a good person (even if she is obsessed with Teh Anti-Sex for young people) but she knows I was reading so, eh, never mind.