New York Press Hate Mail
Letters sent to New York Press about Amy Sohn
There is so much that is so terribly annoying about Amy Sohn’s blindingly self-pitying rant (“Blow-Up Boyfriend,” 5/29), I hardly know where to begin. I have a funny feeling – masculine intuition? – that you guys printed it just to see how much response you’d get. Well, I won’t disappoint you. But before I address the issues at hand, I would like to express my genuine dismay regarding her having been mugged. Even she doesn’t deserve that.
Now I can tear her to shreds.
For someone who seems to want to be loved and accepted for who she is, Sohn sure does categorize those around her in rapid fashion; even her own friend, Francesca, is perceived as “a baby,” after crying as a result of the mugging.
If the “loose-cannon sleaze” who beat her at pool was touching her too personally, why did she go back to apologize to him after assuming he wanted to hit on her when he only wanted to use the phone nearby? Oh, that’s right: she’s a Libra. She called a guy (in Providence?) who she used to know who didn’t even have her number? This fairly screams of desperation. If he didn’t ask her for her number before, that should have been ample evidence that little future-fuck potential existed. A man worth having who wants a woman even a little will get her fucking phone number. That’s just how it works! Although we are indeed talking about fucking here, it’s less than kosher for a man to discuss his exploits in such crass terminology except in the anonymous context of erotica. Men have learned in recent years to stay quiet lest they be classified as “pigs.” What man, then, wants to know a woman of so little couth that not only will she call a brother of one of her “senior-year fucks” for similar activity, but will write unashamedly of it to boot? As I say, no man worth having. I’m leaving her Portishead-listener paragraph alone. Suffice it to say, she should be spanked hard just for talking to a guy who listens to that kind of angst-ridden, hip-young-person garbage.
As an alternative to her fantasy, I’ll tell you what I want. Unlike Sohn, I would in fact prefer a real woman to a blow-up doll. One who likes my medium-sized and uncircumcised penis, who washes herself while I wash myself or likes us to wash each other, who can kiss soft but is perfectly willing to exchange massive amounts of spit when necessary, who can drink beer or not and can cough but hawks only in the bathroom, who has whatever length hair she goddamn well pleases, and can make bad jokes and talk about her band or my band, who isn’t ashamed to accidentally tell me the same story she did a week ago, who gets annoying like ever legitimate human being at least every 28 days or more but wants me around in spite of ourselves.
Who has a better chance of being satisfied? You tell me.
- Beau G. Mansfield, Brooklyn
Re: Amy Sohn’s “First Person” in last week’s issue.
Amy, since you try to live your life according to what you see in the movies, I offer you this: a 5 ft. 11 in., Latin, rugged and toned individualist with an average penis and very average, well-balanced balls to live out the scene from Risky Business where Tom Cruise takes that entrepreneur/call-girl (or is it the other way around?) for a ride on that elevated express train to nowhere. I prefer the #4 line to The Ride at Your Own Risk Bronx. No need to bring protection, I carry my own.
- Name Withheld, Manhattan
For me, Amy Sohn’s column is like Penthouse “Forum.” I can’t believe it’s true, but I can’t stop reading either. Congratulations on keeping such a fantastic writer on your sheet.
- Alex Battles, Brooklyn
Please be kind enough to run a photograph of Amy Sohn so that if I ever see her in a bar, I can run away.
- Aaron Spiegel, Manhattan
Amy Sohn is raw, exposing herself as if someone reached deep within her throat and grabbed her crotch and pulled her inside out, leaving nothing but dripping flesh and a giant beating heart, so that anyone who wants to can stand nearby and dance to the raucous, throbbing beat. Amy, some guys are scared by the sight of such things. I can understand why, but call me anyway.
- Chris Meyer, Brooklyn
Amy Sohn is either a fiction writer or a slut. Either way she is a poor excuse for a columnist. Please make her stop.
- M. Freeman, via the Internet
After reading Amy Sohn’s column in the 7/9 issue of NYPress, I took a quick peek through my recycling bin and found the Sunday times with her picture in the weddings section. Yikes! Suddenly, her stories have lost all their intrigue. A bit of advice, Amy: don’t put a head shot on the back cover of your first book.
- Name Withheld, Manhattan
On p. 34 of your 7/23 issue, there’s the second illustration I’ve seen in your paper of Amy Sohn with her hands down her pants. It serves as a perfect metaphor for the nature of Sohn’s writing and the scope of her world view. I’m given the impression that you run her “pieces” because she lets you all pass her around at office parties.
- Steve Fitch, Manhattan
I really have no response to Amy Sohn’s “Female Trouble” article. I’m just wondering how many other guys out there are like me. In love with a 2 x 4 Betty Boop-likeness caricature of Amy.
Just as she is, I am a Libra. I’m also Jewish and a struggling songwriter. And it’s amazing how she respects the Jewish traditions as I do (I fasted for 24 hrs.).
And the fact that she’s aware of Sandy Koufax. The greatest Jewish ballplayer in history. Here’s to Hank Greenberg, Ron Blomberg, Sammy Davis Jr., Eric Bloom (BOC) and all the Jewish people in the sports and entertainment field.
Thanks, Amy. Keep your head up and don’t ever forget your pride and heritage.
- Scott Sillen, Brooklyn
Amy Sohn never fails to provide her readers with a page of self-absorbed dribble. One reads her writing intensely, trying to figure out what the hell she is talking about, soon to realize you have wasted another five minutes of what otherwise would have been a perfectly mediocre day. But one is strangely compelled to read her column each week, not for its literary appeal, but for the same reason people stare at car wrecks: to thank God that you aren’t the sad soul trapped in that fiery box.
- M. Freeman, via the Internet
I disagree with Danielle Drew, who says that Amy Sohn’s column is a “blot” on NYPress in general. On the contrary, I am consistently fascinated by her ability to dredge up stories from her life – past and present day – with such vivid remembrance. While her stories do border on literary exhibitionism and have a self-involved slant, there’s something in her writing that allows the reader to be “voyeuristic,” and to visualize the self-effacing scenarios she paints.
I look forward to reading her column each week, and in fact, go straight to the contents page to see if the column appears at all. If her column is self-serving, thanks for publishing her self-serving column!
- Kevin Davidson, Brooklyn
I’ve been waiting for the definitive moment that shows Amy Sohn and I are destined for each other. And it finally happened. You used Lloyd Dobler and the movie Say Anything… in your article. Amy, dear, I am Lloyd Dobler (well, at least I was in college; I’ve become a bit tarnished since then, but nothing a little Sohn-polishing won’t get rid of).
And I’m a good catch. I don’t want to buy anything sold or processed, or sell anything bought or processed, or process anything sold, bought or processed for a career. I just wanna hang with you. I’d be good at it. I’ll hold that boom box with “In Your Eyes” playing over my head all night to prove it.
- Sean Waller, Hoboken
To all the idiots who criticize Amy Sohn’s lifestyle, character, attitude, sex life, charm (or lack thereof), descriptive language, personal hygiene or writing: get a fucking life! Amy didn’t cut your balls off; your mother, sister, girlfriend or wife did. It’s time to pick them up, paste them back on and try to enjoy life. Her column is for entertainment, you inbreds!
- Walter Scanlon, Manhattan
I rise to the defense of Amy Sohn (“The Mail,” 9/10). She appears to be the only warm-blooded, heterosexual female writing from the heart, honestly and well, explicitly, about monogamous intimate-relationship issues. Her candor fills a void in the mainstream media that seems to forever prefer to invest in the notion that life mirrors the false images portrayed in their endless parade of liquor, soft drink and cosmetic ads.
A few times a month I have friends from around the country (L.A.-ers mostly) call to find out about her latest travails an revelations. Typically they hoot with delight (“She actually wrote that and they published it? No!) at her treatment of the most common and anxiety-filled issues with a disarming frankness.
- Isaac Collins, Manhattan
I used to date Amy Sohn. Well, not Amy herself, but one of the dozens of girls in New York like her: young, sexually liberated, not unattractive, intelligent, accomplished and unbelievably self-centered. It’s all very exciting at first. She’s the kind of girl that cause average guys to make fools out of themselves. We chase after her relentlessly, and lie awake at night and think about her. But then the truth comes out, and the insecure, neurotic girl reveals her ugly self. She becomes completely unappealing, and we’re embarrassed when we think back on the courtship and our shameless attempts to woo her. We cast her adieu, and she waits for the next fool to come along. Novel Lover is much more patient than I ever was.
- Anthony Magnone, Manhattan
Last night I walked into Milady’s to get a burger to go and overheard a guy talking to a group of people as he waved a NYPress in their faces. I heard him say, “Yeah, and then she wrote all about our date!” (“Female Trouble,” 8/5) I knew it had to be Amy Sohn, so I walked by them slowly and tried to eavesdrop. One guy noticed me listening while the other guy just kept ranting, but I couldn’t get a good look or hang around there inconspicuously, so I moved on to order my burger at the bar.
A few moments later, a waitress there was chatting with her friend, saying: “Ohhh, I really don’t want to go out to dinner with them. I mean, listen to him, he just will not stop talking about this girl and their date!”
“Oh,” I barged in, “was it a date with Amy Sohn?”
She looked at me surprised, as though to say, how would you know that?
“I overheard them before,” I answered. “But which one is the guy she went out with?”
“The one that isn’t my boyfriend,” she quipped. “The one with glasses.”
“So I guess their date didn’t go well, huh?” I said. “Well, you can tell him that nobody reads her column.”
She smirked, knowing that was a complete lie.
On my way out, I got a better look at him, and he was cute in that smart, Semitic way that I, too, adore. But even just passing by him I could tell he was so self-absorbed and so completely annoying to his friends, who were obviously tired of hearing him rant about the injustice of finding his date negatively reviewed in a grimy newspaper!
Ugh, Amy, stop it right now! He comes off as a total asshole, yet you, throughout your tale, go right on believing in him!
His loss. His embarrassment, justly deserved.
- Jayne Falconieri, Manhattan
In her “Female Trouble” column, Amy Sohn humorously and accurately chronicles the obstacles and absurdities young people – particularly women – encounter when trying to make it in New York. She reveals herself to be sensitive, strong-willed and fearless when uncovering intimate aspects of her life. Without being whiny or self-indulgent, she gives us poignant insight from someone steely enough to bear the indignities, heaped on her by overbearing employers, lovers and strangers, without bending. I suspect those who are put off by her are threatened by other similarly strong, uninhibited women. I enjoy peeking into Sohn’s diary, and I hope she continues to divulge.
- Joyce Rutter Kaye, Brooklyn
If a miracle occurred and Amy Sohn could get a glimpse of herself as God sees her – as a person precious, magnificent and glorious – she would cease immediately from involving herself with such atrocious and egregious losers.
She would also cease to be the breathtakingly selfish and ignorant person she is. For the first time in her life, she would begin to know what joy is.
- A.R., Manhattan
Well, it seems to be that Amy Sohn always gets the worst guys. What is she doing wrong? Beats me. But I know if I had a talented and sexually uninhibited girlfriend like her, I’d treat her well.
Re: Amy Sohn’s “Female Trouble.” As we used to say at the high school literary magazine, “Is this a satire?” No other redeeming aspect comes to mind.
- Marina Vishmidt, Manhattan
In one of her columns, maybe three months or so ago, Amy Sohn made a statement to the effect that (I’m paraphrasing here) a person is either happy, or he/she is a writer. As a writer who also likes to consider herself a rather happy person, I admit some of my better work comes from the catharsis of writing about personal trauma and loss. However, if my life were as pathetic and sad as Sohn’s seems to be, I’d either become a celibate or commit suicide, but I sure as hell wouldn’t write about it. While I’m sure Sohn’s essays are titillating to the men who read them, I’d be willing to wager that most women find her as boring, obtuse and ultimately depressing as I do. Who did she sleep with to get that column anyway?
- Gail Worley, Manhattan
To Amy my dear,
forever in the night
ride free joy forever in the night
leaving love behind
finding fantasy in flight
your might alone scares them so
higher to the stars
you take your lovers
and leave them when
they cannot go further
into the night
- Anansi, via the Internet
I enjoy your paper, but was concerned at the new “Ask Amy” column (1/14). How can someone who is obviously so unsure of her own sexuality advise others? Could you not find a professional sex therapist or at least someone with experience in the field of sexual advice to write the column? I think it is irresponsible of NYPress to have a young, naive girl attempt to address people’s sexual problems, when this is obviously way beyond her ability.
- Beverly Cook, Manhattan
Were Amy Sohn and Monica Lewinsky separated at birth?
- Al Pine, Jersey City
There’s a sure-fire sign that Amy Sohn is on target every week: my raging hard-on. If it doesn’t rise, it means she’s strayed into that self-indulgent “what did I do this time?” bullshit. So I say, more swallowin’ and less wallowin’. But that’s only one opinion.
- R. Aiosa, Brooklyn
In reference to your article about suck my hard throbbing, I am writing to express my eat horny pussy you horn dog. My views are carefully considered, as I have many years of meet hot chick in bar and stare at her huge round experience in this area. Thanks I am coming all over the place you for bringing a fresh perspective to New York.
- Name Withheld, Manhattan