It was 1979. I was a long-haired Robert Plant wannabe; she was a wrong-side-of-the-tracks brunette with hippie sensibilities. All I wanted to do was score.

Being an openly bisexual teen in my small town wasn't easy. But I had a great role model: My mom

Fathers are speaking up for girls -- so why does the message sound like it's about themselves?

It had become a running joke with my friends that I'd always dress as a blond-haired white woman for Halloween

Outside, the crowd resembled an endless copulation of confused ants. Inside, a woman attached herself to the Doggfather and squirmed in the light of temporary stardom.

There's not much room to commune with your own nudity, or anyone else's, in a swimming-pool locker room full of wary onlookers.

The #MeToo backlash paints us as in the middle of a sex panic. But maybe we're entering a rare moment of clarity

Straight, confused and longing for acceptance, I tried to start a sorority at Sarah Lawrence. What could go wrong?

At the heart of my Orient Escapade, R-o-n briefly fluttered by.

By day, I worked for a nonprofit afterschool program. By night, I was lap-dancing at a Times Square men's club

NSFW: From the New Lovers erotica "We Love Lucy," a woman's best friend and his boyfriend give her a birthday gift

For years, I'd been an expert in the disorder. But when my son was diagnosed, I found I had a lot to learn

I might have driven a cab forever, but one evening, a stranger's proposition made me rethink everything

When my daughter wanted sparkly shoes, I had to confront my own fierce prejudice against princess culture

Tea party alert: The president's upcoming Asia trip exposes his secret past as a revolutionary comrade-in-arms