I Listened To Alex Cooper's Advice, And It Almost Ruined My Life

I first discovered Alex Cooper through Nicole Arbour , who was encouraging her followers to vote for "Call Her Daddy" in a Spotify competition. The way Arbour framed it was like, "Vote for her because she's just a funny girl competing with celebrities," which sounded cool, so I voted and checked out the podcast. It was entertaining and raunchy in a fun way, so I eventually became a regular listener. Even though I realize that was a bad decision now, I want to at least acknowledge that I understand why people like Alex. She comes across as confident and sisterly and like she knows what she's talking about when it comes to having sex. However, through my own naivete and personal experience, I learned that she doesn't. "Baggage" Defined For one thing, I have to write this anonymously because there are too many people who would be hurt if I didn't. Like my parents, who would be horrified and disappointed to know I've slept with dozens of men. Or my best friend who would feel betrayed because I hooked up with both of her exes. And one of my former employers probably would try to ruin my career if I wrote about what we did together. In hindsight, I realize it shouldn't be that way. You should be able to talk about your sex life without leaving a trail of trauma in your wake. That's not even the worst part, though. The worst part is that, for years, I convinced myself that doing those things somehow made me a cool, interesting, "free" woman. And that stretch of self-delusion occasionally makes me question my own sanity. In short, I wish my sexual history wasn't complicated. If someone asked me about it, I wish I could talk about it with minimal regrets. Instead, I have all this "baggage." I understand why people call it that because there really is weight to it, and you have to carry it around even when you're tired of it. That growing heaviness is what made me start to question the carefree sex in the first place. A "Hot Girl" Feminist Arbour used to say something like, "Be sexy, be hot, but be something else, too." I liked that approach to feminism because I enjoy male attention, but I also like being an independent woman who can earn my own money. I've also always been conventionally attractive, so I never clicked with angry, man-hating women, but I do still identify as a feminist, which is why Cooper's whole approach to sex as a fun, liberating experiment resonated with me, and I found myself seeking out more varied sexual experiences. In the beginning, it was exciting, but then I picked up on a pattern. Since the guys I was sleeping with also had a casual, non-exclusive approach to sex, there wasn't any depth of connection. I liked parts of them and they liked parts of me, but there was never any strong desire on their part to move beyond that. I told myself that didn't bother me and that the sex was enough, but it wasn't. Under the surface, though, it bothered me and it was confusing. Like, how can you like having sex with me but not want to spend time doing other things with me? When you stop and let yourself think about that, you realize there's no real attachment there, and for sex to feel good (during and after), there has to be an attachment. I told myself that didn't bother me and that the sex was enough, but it wasn't. Under the surface, it bothered me and it was confusing. How can you like having sex with me but not want to spend time doing other things with me? Losing Myself There were also instances where I found myself doing things I would've never imagined because I was addicted to the dopamine of attention and sex (I realized later). For example, I used to hook up with a coworker whenever we were alone together. He was in a tumultuous, on-and-off-again relationship at the time, which I didn't love, but the chemistry was crazy and the whole "secret" element made it exciting until the day his sort-of girlfriend walked into the office right after. I said goodbye to both of them and almost convinced myself that I didn't feel bad, but deep down I felt disgusting, like some kind of warped, shriveled-up version of myself as I drove home and thought about the fact that he was lying to her, and to me. And I was lying to myself about the entire situation. The truth was that he didn't care about me beyond sex. He probably didn't care about this girlfriend very much either, given what he was doing, but at least he wanted a relationship with her some of the time. With me, he just wanted occasional sex and then to keep me far away from the rest of his life. And, when I let myself think about this, I realized it wasn't empowering at all, and that it was actually a form of self-disrespect to let men have sex with me without commitment. A Different Approach This is what Cooper downplays, in my opinion, to the detriment of women. Emotionally, most men have a much different approach to sex and engage in it with very little attachment, and feminist influencers like Cooper have normalized the same approach among women. But it doesn't work. No matter how much I told myself that it was "just sex," the honest part of me was always hoping it would be more than sex. I wanted the men I slept with to want me sexually and in other ways, too. And every time that didn't happen, it hurt. It hurt for obvious emotional reasons, but there was a mental component, too. As I mentioned earlier, dopamine is a very real part of sex, and a bunch of casual hookups can mess up your mental stability because your dopamine fluctuates like crazy. I found myself feeling anxious and desperate every time a guy wasn't texting or messaging me, to the point where I started to feel like an addict sometimes. Starting Over I'm still optimistic about the future, especially as I work on healing my insecurities, but it would simply be a lie to say that I didn't waste a lot of my twenties on guys who had no real interest in me and, I traumatized myself in the process. The more I work on myself, the more I realize that I need to talk about this. Not because I think every woman who does what I did will find themselves feeling the exact same pain, but some will. And I'd like them to know that they're not alone. And maybe I can spare other women from making the same mistake. When it comes to sex, respect yourself. And liberate yourself from the false promise that casual sex will make you happy and cool. It doesn't deliver. Even Alex Cooper herself ultimately chose marriage—a committed, exclusive relationship. If you're going to follow her lead, why not skip all the unnecessary detours and arrive at the same conclusion? Evie deserves to be heard. 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