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…

morning after bully

I’m going to write about something that I’ve heard from multiple women. And it’s somewhat disturbing.

The scenario:  A pair, a twosome, who are not really a couple, gets hot and heavy, no immediate protection is immediately available, they take some calculated risks and enjoy themselves…aaand, the next day, the guy freaks out.

Him:  “I’d like to talk about something.”

Her:  “Okay.”

Him:  “We’re not in a relationship.”

Her:  “Right. I’m aware.”

Him:  “We had unprotected sex last night.”

Her:  “Yes, we did.”

Him:  “I’m concerned about the risk of pregnancy.”

Her:  “I’m not.”

Him:  “You’re not?”

Her:  “No. You didn’t ejaculate inside me, and I’m not in a particularly fertile part of my cycle. It’s not like this is the first time…”

Him:  “I know, but we’re not in a relationship now, and that would make it worse if you got pregnant.”

Her:  “Yes, and we’re not going to be.”

Him:  “But you don’t know that… So maybe it would be better if you took a Plan B. You know, the morning after pill.”

Her:  “Yes, I know about the morning after pill. I know my body. I’m not concerned about pregnancy. And I’m not willing to make myself sick and give myself horrific cramps for a day or two or three because you’re freaking out about a choice we made last night.”

Him:  “I’m trying to share my feelings. Does that matter?”

Her:  “I am taking your feelings into consideration, and it’s ultimately my decision.”

Him:  “What if I went to the pharmacy and picked it up and brought it to you?”

Her:  “No, thank you.”

Him:  “You know, the other options are much worse than a day of not feeling well. Think of how that might affect yourself or me emotionally… It would be worth it to be 100 percent sure…”

Her:  “I’ve known precisely one person who’s taken the morning after pill, and it didn’t work; 40 weeks later, she gave birth to her daughter. So it’s not 100 percent certain.”

This might go on — via text, phone or both — for hours. It might go so far that she feels bullied. And, from what I’ve heard from girlfriends, it’s entirely too common.

Think about that:  Even now, some guys think they have a voice in telling a woman what to do with her body. Even if they try to be reasonable, try to be persuasive, try to lovingly suggest, there’s no getting around what it is:  bullying a woman to take the responsibility for something both would have, ideally, been responsible enough to talk about before things go out of hand. Often, these guys aren’t normally such douchebags; they simply don’t get what they’re asking / demanding. It’s a big deal!

No woman should feel pressured to do something with her body that she doesn’t want to do.

This scenario is a great reminder that women still face the consequences of unprotected sex:  our anatomy makes us more susceptible to contracting certain types of STDs than men and we risk pregnancy and the choices associated with it (abortion, single parenting, etc.). As long as men have penises and women have vaginas, this is the way it’s going to be; it’s simply biology.

But there are things we can do to take care of ourselves, and I ask all of my sisterhood to join in and engage in emotional, as well as physical, protection:  Keep condoms on hand and require their use. Or find lovers (if you’re of that age) who have had a vasectomy. Make sure they are compassionate, loving souls, who trust you to know your body. And know your biology with confidence.

pole dancing

Clearly, I am little more than a forty-something cliché. My hormones have me thinking of nothing but sex at the oddest times…no, all the time. And, now, in addition to all those stereotypical, 40-year-old divorcee, cougar-ish things one might say about me, I’ve finally sealed the deal:  I signed up for pole dancing classes.

Don’t blame me; it was a Groupon! And my girlfriend wanted to go, too! This is for fitness, people!

Here are some observations:

  • No, this is not — as one of my male friends suggested — hot. There is nothing about this forty-something woman with an average, curvaceous figure and absolutely no skills awkwardly flailing around a pole that could be even remotely appealing to anyone. Unfortunately, I do not ever envision getting good enough at this for it to be described as “hot!” Still, I did ask, in jest, whether placement services were offered.
  • My body is killing me after class; it must be doing some good. I have an entirely newfound respect for this profession…who knew how hard these women work to do what they do?! My body aches for days after each lesson!
  • Weekday classes are definitely more “core” (read trashy). I learned a few cool moves, but the girls in the mid-week classes were definitely working to earn their keep. These were not the urban girls with professional day jobs in my weekend classes.

I’ve since shared these new endeavors with a few close friends (i.e. everyone within talking range) and I’ve learned a few things:  Apparently this is even more mainstream than I thought. One woman I met mentioned it had been featured on 60 Minutes. While I don’t have that link for you, I did find this clip from CBS News.

No, I don’t look like that. Not yet, anyway.

mind. blown.

I’ve been deflowered. Again. I had chat sex for the first time.

Sure, I’ve fooled around before…I’ve exchanged sexy texts, enjoyed some heavy verbal petting over the phone, but I’d never gone all the way, in real-time, via electronic media. It was, while not as spectacular as I suspect the real thing will be, very sensual and thrilling. Let’s discuss further…

This sort of interaction requires a leap of faith that someone across some wires and / or space is going to dive in and get just as intimate, graphic, tender (or rough) and, yes, dirty. It was so easy in some ways — trust me, I’ve done all that and more in my mind already — yet challenging in that it demanded a certain amount of trust, openness, creativity and imagination. Ultimately, I found it strangely satisfying without… well, satisfying.

I was so close to actually seeing him, hearing his voice say my name, feeling his touch! Perhaps one could describe it as analogous to tasting wine, then spitting it out:  some of your senses are engaged — you see, smell and taste, but you don’t actually get to feel the warmth as it goes down your throat. Instead, your mind fills in the blanks.

Our minds certainly filled in many of the gaps that night, and we agreed afterward (as part of our post-coital pillow talk equivalent) that this gray matter between our ears is so very powerful; in fact, the most powerful organ engaged in the presence and attention that make sex so incredibly wonderful!

And the excitement, anticipation and desire continues to build…

tying up loose ends

Ever since the talk (but before any action), I’ve carried with me a feeling of excitement and anticipation. I had some time to contemplate the side of the conversation I thought I’d heard, and began to have some questions:

  • When he said he’d only had relationships with two women in the past year, did that mean he’d only slept with two? (Because for a while, I’d had the impression he was a player, a total man slut…and I was, gulp, wrong.)
  • When we talked about safety and intimacy, did that mean my fantasy of revolving lovers was off the table?

Whatever it meant, I was suddenly moved to action, tying up loose ends where needed. Whatever was to come of it all, it felt right to release any other entanglements.

I’d still been limping along with the funny guy — who happened to have invited me to his home (in a far-off exurb) that very weekend. (He’s the one, not sure whether I’ve mentioned, who was an excellent kisser but aroused no below-the-waist passions in me.) I called him to let him know that I wasn’t comfortable coming to his house yet and, then, over an early dinner, told him that I wasn’t interested in or seeking a romantic relationship right now.

I texted my ex boyfriend (who wants you all to know that he broke up with me, by the way), to see if he wanted to have coffee. He declined, saying that he’s in a relationship (apparently with the woman with whom he’d planned to break up only days earlier). We had only recently re-opened the door to friendship, simultaneously considering the possibility of a friendship with benefits. I thought it was only fair to let him know that wouldn’t be happening, and his new endeavors saved me from having to do so. But I was surprised at how much I still felt as I once again let him go.

Even if I know in my heart I’m not looking for a relationship, even if my motivation is pleasure, I get the sense that I might be embarking on something truly interesting — something that feeds me in ways that are more than just physical, something that opens doors to new discoveries about myself.

So I’ve made space in my life for possibility. I’ve let go of expectations and attachment to any particular outcome. And I’m enjoying the flirting, teasing and anticipation…

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!