Monthly Archives: November 2012

close to the vest

Apparently I’m a difficult read. This according to a woman who knows me well; perhaps wishes to know me better, if you catch my meaning.

I think what she actually said was that I hold my cards close to my vest. And, therefore, she thinks the man I’m digging probably doesn’t really know I feel.

Which maybe is fair. But, again, this was meant to be a hook-up thing…you know, friends with benefits. So…it’s not really about that, right?

Still, shouldn’t it be obvious?

  • Exhibit A:  The last time we were together, I was so nervous that I told a bunch of dumb, pointless stories — that usually featured mention of other men — all in the way of letting him know how attractive I found him, or that I’d had a crush on him for a while. Nothing says “I like you” like making a complete ass of one’s self. Right? (At least if you’re in high school.)
  • Exhibit B:  I couldn’t stop touching him…lingering near him in the kitchen, touching his back; sitting across the table from him, touching his feet with mine; kissing and caressing his lips, jaw, chest with pure, raw desire.
  • Exhibit C:  It was I who asked him to get naked and rub up against each other.

So clearly, if nothing else, I’ve demonstrated that I’m all too willing to make an ass of myself when I’m excited about the prospect of getting to know someone I like a bit better.

My girlfriend also said I’m intimidating. So what do I do about that?


sapiosexual: it’s a thing

Apparently there is a name for people like me — people who are turned on more by intelligence than anything else, folks for whom intellectual discourse is a form of foreplay, folks who find intelligent discussion arousing:  sapiosexual.

At this point, the term is found in blog mentions and websites such as undictionary.com or urbandictionary.com, and is said to come from roots sapien, Latin for wise or intelligent and sexualis, which should require no further definition.

I’ve seen the term described as a both a behavior (of being attracted to intelligence) and an orientation.

But isn’t this complicating things just a bit? I mean, my girlfriends and I have been discussing for years what was once a nameless, yet obvious, phenomenon of being attracted to brainy dudes. We’ve long talked about plain ole good conversation as foreplay. In fact, just talking with my current interest has the effect of driving me wild with desire. Isn’t this just a natural, instinctual, evolutionary imperative to be drawn to those most likely to be able to provide? (Let’s table the discussion about whether a woman actually needs a provider or merely an equal for another time.)

Or is it something much greater? Perhaps my above argument captures the essence of a historical, evolutionary paradigm shift. What if the evolved woman is attracted to intelligent geeks for the same subconscious reasons that our ancestors were attracted to those strongest, most physically able to put food on the table?

Or, maybe we’re attracted to pale, skinny, bespectacled nerds for the same reason our more recent ancestors were attracted to dudes with overgrown facial hair, polyester shirts and tight corduroy bell bottoms in the 70s:  because it’s fashionable.

Trend, evolution or neither? What do you think?


out of the woodwork

Why is it, when I finally get to share some intimacy with someone I enjoy, men and women come out of the proverbial woodwork to express their desire for me?

It’s interesting…but, no thanks, I’m busy now.


sheer yumminess!

Finally, the eagle has landed. The fox is in the henhouse.

Or whatever silly code might clue in those friends who are so eager for me to share when I was finally able to enjoy some quality time in the company of a certain very attractive fellow. Frankly, I don’t think any of them are readers here, but this is the best I plan to do.

I’m rarely inclined to spill many details of my involvements or alliances. After all, I have to respect a gentleman’s privacy.

But, in this case, I feel I must gush at least a little:  OMG he has soft, sweet lips! I could have stroked the whiskers on his face and hair on his chest indefinitely. We talked for hours. It felt wonderful to laugh, share and enjoy the company of a sweet, intelligent, creative, attractive man…

And I am still smiling.


anticipation is like a balloon

If horniness were terminal, I’d be dead already. And I’m too young and have way too much fun left in me to die! Aaargh!

Ever since our discussion a few weeks ago, a certain someone and I have been trying to find some time to get together and explore and pleasurize. Yes, I’m sure that’s a word — I’ve just invented it.

Actually doing it, though? Epic fail. We have not managed to find a time when neither of us has a conflict. And I’m not sure what to do about it.

I mean, I’ve tried to convey a sense of urgency…yet I don’t want to get too dramatic for fear of sounding desperate. Okay, I am desperate. Sexually, that is. Not emotionally. I’m drive-across-town-for-five-minutes-in-a-utility-closet kind of desperate. Egad, that sounds fantastic!

I suspect he is not feeling any such urgency; that he’s happy to take time and savor those glorious feelings of anticipation and the creative fantasies they engender; that he is clearly far more patient than I am; that he’d prefer to find a time when we can both take time, relax and really get to know one other.

Don’t get me wrong:  I’m enjoying the build up, as well. But my anticipation is like a balloon:  it can only take so much more before it  explodes!

And now there has been plenty of time for insecurities to creep in and try to sabotage my revelry. I wonder if he’s not as interested as I am. I start to think someone else may have caught his eye. And, gosh, that would suck! Especially since I’ve just seen some new pictures of him online with a bit of a beard and I am so turned on!

So I go on with my life, my work, my parenting, while ever dirtier images and fantasies creep into my nocturnal and day dreams.

If it’s not meant to be, it’s not meant to be. Or I’m to cultivate patience. Or there will be other men. Que sera, right? I generally trust in this benevolent universe to have my back and, if not him now, then a better situation for me later.

But dammit, I’d sure enjoy him now. Pretty please! With whipped cream and cherries on top!


props to the first husband

Now that the heightened emotions of the election have waned enough to bring it up:  GObama!

I say this not for any politically motivated reason, but because this man knows how to give his woman props for not only putting up with, but also campaigning through, a second presidential election. You may recall these words from his acceptance speech:

“…And I wouldn’t be the man I am today without the woman who agreed to marry me 20 years ago.

Let me say this publicly: Michelle, I have never loved you more. I have never been prouder to watch the rest of America fall in love with you, too, as our nation’s first lady…”

Damn! Our first man’s got it going on!

What’s right about it?

  1. “…wouldn’t be the man I am today…” He gave his wife credit for making him a better man, right there in front of the whole world.
  2. “…agreed to marry me…” He acknowledges that this was an agreement, something they did together, which translates to partnership or equality. (You may have noticed that a certain other political party got this whole message wrong…but again, this post is not about politics; it’s about love and appreciation!)
  3. “I have never loved you more.” Man enough to express his softer side to the world, that his love has grown.
  4. “…to watch the rest of America fall in love with you, too…” He sees what others see in her, or how they respond to her, and appreciates her for that, too!

Men, take a lesson from this:  Find opportunities to let your spouse, partner, girlfriend know you appreciate her (or him). On second thought, let’s not limit this to men; we can all learn a thing or two about expressing appreciation from this speech. And, while most of us don’t have access to every major news outlet in the world (or speech writers ensuring we make it sound pretty), we can still share publicly, even if in front of a select few, just why we think that special someone is so special.

Now go forth and appreciate!


you know that ain’t gonna work

This morning as I was driving to work, I was suddenly struck by a memory…and I laughed aloud for blocks.

My (main) college boyfriend was very into New Age spirituality…and, admittedly, so was I. But he was older, hipper, grungier and bearded. And his family more open-minded. For years (or maybe only months) at a time, I was sure he was the love of my life.

His mother knew astrology and read tarot. He was so far ahead of me on the spiritual front that I allowed him to lead me, to recommend reading, to open my mind:

  • He introduced me to Seth, Shakti Gawain and Ram Dass.
  • He told me about a woman somewhere who has learned to photosynthesize, like plants. Apparently, she drank a small amount of water and ate a Triscuit every so often.
  • We meditated together, even when he’d moved on to graduate school.
  • And, once, he told me that he aspired to such heights of spiritual enlightenment that he would engage in sex only as a means of procreation.

I treasure the memories, but you can understand why this all went awry…