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I agree. I should be past the point of letting others bring me down. With my thousands of likes and hundreds of fans, my self-esteem should be on cloud nine.

Confidence made a woman sexy.

I should not let them shame me. I wasn't that ajumma (아줌마) at all. Hence, with the mindset that you could be whoever you wanted to be, I accepted each man's thoughts, and he showed me his inner self.

And then came Barbie.

When I first met him on Tinder, I introduced him to my naughty insta. Barbie loved it. We got onto Line because it allowed us to send larger files. He loved to jerk off for me, and I loved seeing him cum, and I praised him for doing a good job. Likewise, I got him off by giving back the favor.

We played for a week every day. His libido was high, and I matched him well. But something always bugged me right from the beginning.

"Why do you sound like a girl when you speak English?" I asked him one day.

"My Korean voice is lower..." he said, "I'm excited to play with you, baby."

Both seemed reasonable enough, and the high-pitched voice calling me "Baby..." continued in all his videos. Even face-to-face on video chat, he'd call me that. It bugged me a little, and I tried to think it was a quirk of his.

And then, one day, I got a link to a Barbie AI app. You could upload your pics, and the AI would make you into a Barbie or Ken doll. I sent it to a bunch of people I knew, and thought it was funny to send to Al.

Initially I got silence from him, and then a day later, he texted me screenshots of a shopping cart.

"You made me do this," he said with a giggling smiley. "I'm going to buy these. What do you think?"

This was not what I expected.

"These" were a vibrator and some female clothes — a black one-piece, a skirt, a blouse, undergarments, and shoes.

Oh. My. God.

"Okay...sure...," I swallowed hard. "Why?"

"I always wanted to try." He smiled again.

A few days later..."I bought them!"

"Wow," I said. I made a man a crossdresser.

He'd send pics of himself in female clothes with a wig and shoes.

"You went out like this?" I asked. "How was it?"

"Fun...FFFFFFF." He'd laugh about it.

"Do you like men? I'm confused. " It was a week before he was telling me about his sex marathon with a Filipina he met online. They had so much sex everywhere: at home, in the car, in the park, in the public restroom, etc, and their bodies were sore.

"I make her a good slave," he told me. "She cummed many times."

"Did you wear girl clothes for her?"

"No," he replied and shared a devil smiley.

"Why are you wearing girl clothes now?"

"I want to have lesbian sex with you," he said.

"What?"

"It's my fantasy. I want lesbian sex with you."

"Me?" I wanted to curse, but I refrained. Curiosity got the better of me, and I had to know.

"What do you mean lesbian sex?" I chuckled nervously. Though the words were typed on the screen, it left me speechless. I admit, I wasn't a sex-positive person. I wondered if the guys knew what those words meant.

Was it lost in translation? Sex positivity wasn't just that you'd like sex a lot. It meant you were open to all types of sex.

In the case of Barbie, it was true. He wanted to experiment, and he felt comfortable telling me all his fantasies. I appreciated his confessions and was grateful that he trusted me enough to tell me his deepest secrets.

I guess when it came to myself, involving me, that was a different story.

"You're no sex-positive at all. You're actually quite conservative," H said.

"Yeah. I am..." I'd lots to learn about genders, still confused by the different titles and preferences. To be honest, I'd prefer the simpler term of love who you want, without labels.

"I'm straight. Very straight. I'm not into girls," I had to tell the guys online. "Stop thinking of me in your threesomes. It'd not gonna happen."

"Why not? Maybe you have to try it once to know if you like it," said one guy.

"Okay," I was annoyed.

Why did guys think all women were bi-sexual but they were not?

"Let me give you an example. Hear me out and try to imagine along."

"Imagine you are having one of the greatest sex sessions ever with a hot girl.

So, you're doing it doggy, and everything is going awesome, and then suddenly a guy appears out of nowhere behind you and then starts rubbing himself on you and tries to fuck you.

What would you do?"

"I'll fight him off and kill him," said one of those super straight guys.

"So think of it from my POV. If a girl touches my body parts or tries to kiss me, I'd punch her."

Yeah, punch. No holding back, and I don't give a damn what you think of me.

Because sex is the only thing you're allowed to be racist, sexist, and whatever *ist.

And if that made me sex-negative, whatevs. And now, back to my conversation with H.

"You think I led them on?" I dried my hair as we sat on our bed. It was almost a nightly ritual — him on his iPad watching his shows and I, after exercising, showering, and kbeauty routine, settling into bed, texting my goodnights to some of my close pals.

There were always stories to tell H — I had more than he did with his FWB girlfriends, which was no surprise because chatting with these guys and hunting for more fish should be a part-time profession.

"It's because you are open-minded and the only person they can talk to."

And maybe it was true, which is why Barbie took it a step too far, over the ledge, I thought at that time.

"I scolded him," I said.

"Barbie? Why?" H asked.

"Because he didn't warn me when he sent that vid."

"What did he send?"

"A sex vid."

"So?" H said.

"It started as a blow job. A short, curvy, brown-skinned woman sucking his dick, and him squeezing her boobs. Then he pulled her up, turned her around, and lifted her red lingerie."

"Okay."

"And he started fucking her doggy...and then..." I closed my eyes.

I had a bad habit. Or maybe it was my brain stuck on certain images and sounds after my health scare more than a year ago.

I remembered every detail. The small room and messy bed. A window with rails and light coming through.

The door ajar with the sun and heat, if I could feel it, creeping on the floor towards them as the bed creaked with his endless force and huffing as he screwed her.

"He flipped her over again and that's when I saw it." I swallowed. I had only heard of it. Legends of these special people. "She had a small penis, and he was fucking her or was she a he? I don't know.

Now, I'm not even sure if he was fucking her pussy or anal."

It was hard to wipe that image from my mind. I blamed it on Barbie. He didn't prep me. He should have told me it was a different kind of vid.

"Did he touch it?" H looked up, interested.

I nodded. "He was playing with it with his fingers. It wasn't erect. Small. Maybe 2.5 inches?" I could explain in more detail but I chose not to.

"Wow. Barbie is really curious, huh," said H.

"And you're okay with it?" I was shocked that H wasn't disgusted. "But you weren't okay with the puke guy."

"This is different," he said.

"Would you try it?" I asked.

"No..." H shook his head. "I won't do it, but I can understand why he would." He laughed and patted my head. "You have to be more open-minded. Everyone is expecting you to be more open."

I agree. Sex positivity — I should be more, yes. But, as a person, I stubbornly held on to my beliefs.

Was there a right or wrong? It was eye-opening for sure, and I, for one, shouldn't be the one to judge.

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