different worlds

As a 40-something divorcee, conversations about sex / libido / hormones are pretty much a daily occurrence. I’ve had girlfriends tell me of times when their need / drive / desire was so powerful and urgent that they’ve pulled over to the side of the road while driving to manually relieve themselves. One girlfriend reports that her friends sometime act as scouts, even once sending a 21-year old man to her home, sight unseen, for a house call. (I wonder how that conversation goes?)

While I can’t claim to have pulled off to the side of the road for a quick masturbatory session or that any friends have delivered fresh meat to my front door, I can relate to the feelings of frequent powerful and urgent lust (even if they somehow seemed to disappear during most of the dates I went on over the summer). In fact, the ultimate fantasy du jour is to be passionately making out in the elevator with my prospective lover and, upon reaching the destination floor — whether a hotel room or flat — barely make it into the room before he slams me against the wall, tears off my panties (if I’m wearing any) and impales me.

In other words, “wham, bam, thank you ma’am” sounds not just okay, but ideal to me right now. After that, I’m open to whatever gentle touch or tenderness that might happen. Getting it done is the primary objective.

Some of my friends, many of them married, like to live vicariously through my dating stores. But recently I reconnected with a friend who made me realize that the raging 40-something libido is not an universal experience, even among singles. At only a few years younger than me, this girlfriend has gone through some lady hormonal stuff that’s essentially made her body chemistry the equivalent of a post-menopausal woman. She does not experience or share this raging, animalistic desire I have to rip off a man’s clothes and climb his tree.

In fact, her reality is quite different from that vision: She’s never been what I would consider particularly conventional, but now she realizes the fall-in-love-get-married-make-babies path will never unfold for her. Looking for love has been an exercise in ambivalence these past few years. She thought she’d moved back to the midwest to realize all those things — settle down, make a home and a life, have children. Meanwhile, her heart wasn’t fully in it because of feelings for a man already in her life, albeit across the globe.

So this recent diagnosis (learning that she won’t be able to get pregnant without medical intervention) has changed her entire outlook. She hasn’t experienced the sort of hormonal demands or libidinous passions that I attempt to moderate (modulate? manage?) on a daily basis, but enjoys a healthy physical dimension to her relationship. Knowing that the traditional fairytale narrative of a relationship / marriage / family is not part of her reality has freed her to more fully embrace her relationship with a man who has not only celebrated his 70th birthday, but also lives on another continent. A few weeks ago, they celebrated their five-year anniversary.

My girlfriend acknowledges how unconventional all this is and, in fact, she’s not even “out” in her workplace about this relationship for fear of how differently she might be perceived. Yet their families have fully embraced them, and I support her happiness in whatever form it comes.

But where we are biologically or along our life paths? It’s as if we occupy entirely different worlds!

missionary

Fantasies, imagination and experimentation come in all forms, shapes and sizes. We’re all so brilliantly, terrifically, exquisitely different in the myriad things that excite us!

In more than forty years on this planet, I sometimes think I’ve heard it all. Yet, I’m beginning to see a theme: some folks just stick with the usual, with what works, missionary. With so many options available to us, why do we so often end up in exactly the same position? And why are we so reluctant to confess that our sex lives have little variety…or do they.

I’ve written about a friend I know who has ventured outside her marriage. She described the sex with her lover as intense and hot…and only months later, confessed that it was always exactly the same: missionary. Where’s the excitement in that? Was it just because it was illicit? Or was it because it produced consistent results?

I was terrifically close for years with a college professor who shared many intimate details from her life and loves with me. She famously had an affair while living in France for a year on a fellowship. When the truth of this love affair was finally disclosed, we giggled over the fact that the two had had sex in precisely one position: missionary. The variable / fantasy factor? While ramming her, her lover would call out, “we are on a beach” or “now we’re lying in a field of flowers.”

I confess: I love missionary; it’s consistently effective. I have a few other favorites, too. And I’m thinking of grabbing a book — the Kama Sutra to be specific — and proposing to my prospective lover that we work our way through every last one of them!

the talk

Last week I speculated a bit about a conversation I was about to have with a friend about whether or not we might mutually desire to engage in the earthly pleasures afforded us by our unattached status. We met last week at a hip lounge, ordered drinks and caught up on the children, work stuff, and much, much more. And I can’t wipe the shit-eating grin off my face; it was more spectacular than I could have imagined!

I’m not certain this is a conversation that would have been possible for me had it not been for my most recent boyfriend experience, which was only beginning to develop this time a year ago. After six months of fun, love and discovery, we found we wanted different things from the relationship. And then we broke up again a few times, without ever having gotten back together. Through that relationship, I experienced that I could care for, deeply love, share intimacy with and enjoy another human without wanting to be “in a relationship” with him.

So, on to my prospective lover:

Conversation with this man is typically so good that I forget to eat. Not just because the time seems to pass so quickly, but because his presence and the depth and breadth of our discussion is so hearty and fulfilling by itself. This robust deliciousness is not something I’ve ever before experienced with anyone else — at least not someone to whom I’m also physically attracted.

As we began to delve deeper into our discussion, we learned more about each other’s relationship histories and experiences. When it came to the juicy stuff, we quickly established what disinterests us, that neither of us claims expertise in any particular kink, that role play might be fun, who has the larger toy collection, and more. There were some pretty big revelations for me. For awhile I think I’d suspected that he might be a bit of a player, but that’s not at all what I learned from our conversation.

After that, it got even more interesting. We discussed all the other delicious stuff that goes along with physical intimacy: the emotional connection that accompanies it, sleeping together, reading in bed, cooking and eating, watching television while rubbing each other’s feet… All in all, I think we spent more time talking about all the wonderful, fun discovery that goes along with sex than we did about sex.

Four hours later, we walked to my car, enjoyed some sweet lip-smacking kisses and a world-class hug, and I went home to sleep with a smile on my face and an immense sense of anticipation and possibility.

It will be interesting to learn, experience, communicate and feel my way — our way — through whatever is to come…

weird conversations

I’ve had no shortage of weird conversations lately. Let’s review:

I told one gentleman that we should no longer see each other because, after five or six dates, I had no desire to take him home, rip off his clothes and make homemade pornos with him.
I told another that I thought I might be too mainstream for his weird idiosyncrasies, which included writing historical epic poetry and translating Dante from Latin because he was dissatisfied with all the other translations he’d found.
My children are reaching an age at which I am constantly answering new questions or having new, carefully phrased yet entirely transparent conversations. Tonight I had the pleasure of explaining condoms and, in the process, erections.

And, now, I’m planning a conversation with a casual friend to determine whether we should engage in carnal pleasures with one another. (Just for the record, I’m leaning toward yes. I mean, why have the conversation otherwise, right?!)

So what does a conversation like this entail? To be honest, I’ve never really had a chat quite like this before. But here’s what I’m thinking we’ll need to cover:

State of the state: are we both approaching this conversation with similar perspectives, expectations, boundaries, etc.?
Desire: are we both equally eager to get naked and rub up against one another? what might we want to try / do / explore?
Safety: sexual histories, date and outcome of last STD screen, plans for protection, etc.

I confess I’m nervous and excited about this upcoming chat…because this is one of those guys with whom I could get excited about making homemade pornos. So cross fingers and wish me luck!

so…what’s changed?

When I think about where I was just over a year ago, I marvel at the transformation that’s taken place!

Then, I was beginning a new romance on the shaky legs of a newborn colt. I so needed to be liked, to be loved… It was a beautiful, healthy relationship that fed a hunger inside me in all the ways that I needed. I am so eternally grateful for that!

Now, I have more confidence, acceptance and contentedness than ever. I’m not looking for anything — I mean, except for that physical itch to be scratched. And I’m pretty okay with that.

In fact, I’m feeling a sort of holistic peace settle over all aspects of my life. Yes, I work my ass off! Yes, I run around trying to balance that with the parenting, housekeeping and social life. Yes, I wish I had more time for me — to exercise, read, write, play… But I love what I do, I feel challenged all the time, I find time to ride my motorcycle, socialize with friends and do some of the things I enjoy. My life is far from perfect — far from ideal, even — and, yet, I am more content than ever.

So this is how happiness feels!

keepin’ it casual

For the first time in a long time (and maybe ever), I’m seriously exploring embarking on some casual, physical relationships. Yes, I meant that in plural.

Sure, I have many friends — male and female — who’ve had casual relationships with more than one person at a time, but I’ve just never had it in me to a) be casual and b) enjoy more than one partner in any given period of time. As I’ve explained before, I’m more of a serial monogamist. What’s more, I’ve always enjoyed the relative physical safety of being in exclusive relationships, where I know (or at least trust) that my partner’s also monogamous.

So what’s changed?

As much as I’m enjoying the men I’m meeting and thinking they’re great guys, I just can’t get interested in a relationship with anyone. And it’s finally dawned on me that the common denominator is me: I’m just not emotionally available to engage in a relationship. I don’t have the sort of energy to want that just now. But I’m still capable of being flirtatious, engaging, a good friend and physically alive. Or, as Dan Savage would say, GGG (which, if memory serves, stands for good, giving and game). So perhaps, for the first time in my life, I may be an emotional match for having casual encounters.

It’s my predeliction for falling for guys with whom I share physical intimacy that makes me think I should not limit myself to one. I suspect there may be a certain amount of practice required to not let it mean too much, and having multiple partners would certainly require that sort of practice. I think.

As for the physical risks involved…well, I believe they can be mitigated with certain precautions. And, in fact, those are the very kinds of precautions I will soon need to begin discussing with my children as they mature. I’ll consider it research, so that I can speak with authority.

Now, if only I can figure out how to pick up men!

you’d think we’d learn…

I’m not sure why this popped into my head today, but it kind of gave me a chuckle.

A guy friend of mine was telling me a story about how, when a client of his needed a very specialized sort of service, he referred her to another buddy. Just days later, he learned the two of them were dating. The tale was only slightly more elaborate than that and, meanwhile, my friend was shaking his head in disbelief, like this whole dating-a-client thing was the stupidest thing he’d ever heard!

Which is when I asked, “Um, yeah, and right about a year ago, weren’t you doing that very same thing?”

He sheepishly admitted that he was guilty, and his facial expression was acknowledgement enough of its disastrous ending. I never did get the full story, but I thought, wow, by this time in our lives, shouldn’t we all know better?!

(This, by the way, from a man who wouldn’t ask me out…even knowing I liked him. Okay, some of you may think I’m a little whack, but I’m not the sort who causes damage. Breaking up with a client could have serious side effects!)

“You don’t get your honey where you make your money,” the old saying goes.

Actually, if we’re honest, many of us have met a romantic interest through some sort of work relationship. In fact, my wasband was someone I met while at work…and just look at how that ended!

I’d like to think you could all learn from my mistakes, just as my friend clearly wished his buddy had picked up a lesson or two from him. But, truth be told, most of us insist on learning those lessons for ourselves, making all the mistakes we need to, some of them repeatedly. Something about the prospect of finding love drives us to take such crazy risks…I mean, the upside could be incredible!

So we all act the fool at times…and I guess that’s just another of the cosmic jokes that makes this life interesting.

it’s all about the energy

The city in which I live is still very much a small town in some ways, and I’ve come to expect to run into many of the same folks over and over. So, when invited to a really fun work / social party thrown by a few awesome guys / companies in their funky, mod work space, I was already anticipating running into a ton of fun people I already know.

Aside from being welcomed at the door by a guy friend on whom I have and off-again / on-again crush, there were really two highlights of the evening for me:

First, as I told my guy friend, “I’m dying to meet your brother, because he is such an acerbic bastard on Facebook that I already know I’ll love him!” When we were introduced, I explained to this man why I’d been so eager to meet him and he laughed, “yeah, I get a lot of that.” But the genuine and surprising pleasantness was that this man, who appeared large, gruff and potentially intimidating, and who is always — as far as I can tell from the comments he posts on common friends’ status updates — a perfect sonofabitch, had the warmest, friendliest, most open energy imaginable. He was not at all the curmudgeon I had anticipated. Don’t get me wrong, I would have adored him as a curmudgeon, as well. Instead, he was as you might expect to find Jerry Garcia or the famous ice cream Ben and Jerry: fulfilled, successful, creative and positively oozing loving vibes…a sort of teddy bear, who you felt immediately drawn to hug. Without the tie-dye. Think Buddha with a 70s porn ‘stache.

There was something exciting about this encounter for me — that someone could be so acerbic and witty (occasionally coming off as condescending or sarcastic) while so clearly happy, content and loving. It was a big aha. After all, I’ve been working to balance my own energy for years — and I’d finally experienced that which I’ve been trying to achieve (in my own unique and feminine form, of course) — the perfect balance of loving-kindness and irreverence.

My second fabulous experience of the night was running into a long-ago colleague who is now part of an up-and-coming band. Let me set this up: He’s tall, good-looking and has the sort of smooth, sexy drawl with which he could easily and simply talk my clothes right off…if he weren’t married (and to a super sweet woman, to boot). I used to have a huge crush on him! So it was a wonderful surprise to learn that he’d had a crush on me, too, back in the day. (Even back then, when I was being the worst human I’ve ever been — too much alcohol, drugs and unhealthy relationships.) And dang! He’d have been ten times the husband mine was, though I probably couldn’t compare to his wife. He sweet-talked me for a good, long while, suggested I manage his band, promised to look for eligible men for me and gave me the best hug ever. His energy was so warm — I never wanted those moments to end!

It was a great party with a ton of awesome people, but those two special moments illuminated a critical realization: I’d choose a man with great energy over great looks any day of the week. And therein lies the bummer of online dating: had I seen a photo of my friend’s brother online, I would have been unlikely to want to meet him. In real life, I’d kill to meet a single, available man like him!

Now, if I can get my energy to match all that bliss, I’ll have no problem attracting it!

living apart together

I have at least two friends who are divorced or going through a divorce and have chosen to continue living, at least for the immediate future, in the same home as their exes.

For couple A, this means moving back in together after a year of living somewhat apart. They had rented an apartment — where each had separate bedrooms — and would switch off each week, one living in their home with children, acting as the primary parent, and the other staying at the apartment. Moving back in together has meant juggling a few rooms around to ensure they have separate bedrooms, though still on the same floor. They continue to take turns acting as the primary caregiver to their children, buying groceries and making meals, etc.

In my mind, this all seems just a little too close for comfort, requiring a level of emotional maturity and commitment to civility that I’m not sure I possess. Or, even if I’d like to think I’m capable of such an arrangement — after all, for how many years did I fantasize about building a studio apartment over the garage for mine?! — I can guarantee my ex is not. But it seems to be working for another friend, as well:

Girlfriend B and her future ex have agreed to continue living in the same home, with him taking up residence in the basement and she upstairs with the children, sharing the common spaces on the first floor. They complicate their lives by housing various extended family members — her aging mother, his adult children from previous relationships (i.e. one-night stands) — in their suburban mcmansion. Meanwhile, he has a girlfriend and she is in a serious relationship with an old boyfriend (who is also going through a divorce). These extra-curricular activities are kept out of the children’s sights, although there are times Dad’s been caught with another woman’s photo on his mobile phone or has stayed out all night.

While I often claim to be falling-off-the-left socially liberal, and while I freely acknowledge that children can thrive in all kinds of alternative family structures — provided they have love and boundaries — I am baffled by all of this. When pressed, my girlfriends insist that this is the best arrangement for their children and has saved them the undue stress of their parents living apart. For now…

…because arrangements like this are unlikely to last forever, especially given that girlfriend B has plans to spend the rest of her life with her current beau. And I would assume she’s eager to begin a newer, presumably happier phase of her life as soon as possible.

As for me, as much as I sometimes still buckle under the weight of being a single parent, breadwinner and homeowner, I am glad for the relatively clean break. Sure, it took six months for my ex to move out (even after years of stressful togetherness), but now the children eagerly look forward to their daddy time and make plans for what types of toys to keep at his place and what to keep at ours. I’m pretty certain they’re more well-adjusted this way than had we continued to live under one another’s noses.

We managed to find the arrangement that was, if not ideal, then as close to right for us as could be managed under the circumstances. And I look on in wonderment at those who make the above “alternative” relationships work.

What do you think — could you or do you live with your ex? What did you find was right for you?

…and then date night got weird

I’m keen on perceiving trends lately…I mean, I’ve always been keen on perceiving trends; it’s just that now I’m much more aware and able to spot them in my own life. So what the heck is up with all the dry guys? I seem to end up going on more second, third and fourth dates with guys who do not drink at all. My last boy friend was sober, and so was my Chicago crush.

Don’t get me wrong: I’m not saying this is a bad thing, and I certainly don’t want to date some guy for whom alcohol is the center of his fun and entertainment. Sure, I talk of w(h)ine and cheese with the girls, but neither wine nor beer nor cocktails are the focal point of my social interactions (though I certainly do appreciate how they lube things up…).

All of these dry guys have a story, which they typically volunteer pretty early on in conversations — they seem to want to get it out of the way so that it’s not one of those big, lurking mysteries, the proverbial elephant in the room. So when I’d been on date four or five (not really counting anymore) with a cute, funny, sweet guy, and we’d talked about wine, etc., but he no longer drinks, I finally said:

“So you used to drink; you don’t anymore. Everyone’s got a story. What’s yours?”

And then date night got weird. We were in his car at the time. He took a breath and said, “The last time I drank, I was with my wife. I must have had a lot, because I blacked out. I don’t think I’ve ever, at any other time, blacked out. And when I woke up, I was in jail.” He did not elaborate further, aside from to say that he has no idea what really happened. It was implied that his ex accused him of something…

“Yikes,” I said, not entirely sure how to respond. I felt uncomfortable and awkward… But I didn’t feel afraid or concerned for my safety. Should I have? In fact, we went out for dessert after that.

I guess for one thing, I feel pretty confident that I can hold my own — that I am capable of maintaining my own boundaries — and that I project a certain amount of confidence. Part of projecting confidence is that “walk with purpose” business that self defense folks will tell you about — it simply makes people a little less inclined to think they can mess with you…posture, attitude. I hope I’m expressing this adequately without sounding completely full of myself. Said another way, there was nothing about being in this fellow’s presence that made me feel physically intimidated.

Second, I’ve lived enough to feel as though I’ve got a pretty good bullshit detector / am an okay judge of character. The men I meet these days are honest and decent human beings. I don’t think I’d even be attracting them if they weren’t. And I’m pretty good at calling a bluff. I’m not sensing a well of anger percolating under the surface with this dude — or any other explosive emotions waiting to come out. He seems pretty well adjusted…of course that could just be the months of therapy that followed whatever happened that night…

But perhaps the real reason all this weirdness didn’t send up any big, red flags was because I didn’t see things going anywhere anyway. I mean, so far, we’d seen each other enough times for him to be pulling out some much bigger moves than he had been. He was a good kisser, to be sure, but I wasn’t dying to rip his clothes off or anything (which good kissing is wont to inspire me to do). He’s rebuilding his life somewhere in some far corner of suburbia, and I’m living my mostly already rebuilt life in urbania. In other words, he’s too far behind my curve. I just don’t have the energy to be there for him as he goes through all the rest of his stuff.

And so it’s not going any further because I didn’t see it going any further anyway, not because of some messed up situation…and certainly not because he doesn’t drink. Still, I gotta say, that made for a pretty strange date…and I’m not sure I want to go through with too many more of those!