women, men and sex

Who was it who so astutely observed that men can’t think straight until they have sex, while women think straight until they have sex?

You’ve seen the scenario play out, likely from either angle:

A man chases a woman, acting a fool, his crazy behavior driven by her complete indifference to his overtures. If he finally does achieve his goal of “nailing her,” he’s either immediately over it or caught up in a lifetime of misery.
Conversely, a woman who goes home with a complete stranger for a hot fix may well find herself having white picket fence fantasies about him and their future together the next day. (Many of us will deny we do this, but we do. And, yes, most of us are aware that it’s entirely irrational.)

The behavior in these two rather extreme examples is neither logical nor reasoned, but instead based on evolutionary survival mechanisms called instinct. Men, regardless of evolution, have a bit of needing the chase in them. This drive allowed them to survive and provide for their families and communities thousands of years ago. Women, on the other hand, are driven by a hormone called oxytocin, which is released simply through touch (and, of course, orgasm) and causes feelings of warmth, intimacy and concern. The result of these effects was women who nursed, bonded with and protected their babies — again, a basic function of survival.

So where does this leave us? Well…I’ve recently been envisioning a scenario that might look something like this:

A woman and man occasionally hang out. They are not dating, as far as they know. They enjoy each other’s company and are intrigued enough to go back for more, but neither has made an attempt to wrap any sort of meaning or parameters or definition around it. Still, more and more, they find themselves touching each other and kissing good night at the end of the evenings they spend together… Let’s imagine they find themselves becoming physically involved…they are now in the throes of a naked, steamy moment.

What is he thinking? “Awesome! This feels great! We’re having sex!”

What is she thinking? “Awesome! This feels great! He wants something deeper with me, too!” (Double entendre intended.)

These two could very well be on the same page and be thinking thoughts that ultimately end up being pretty close to each other’s meaning.

Or they could be worlds apart, with him feeling nothing more than a physical attraction to her…”friends with benefits,” as it’s commonly called (although I often prefer “sport f@%k” for its implied aggression).

So…will these two get physical? Will their intentions meet? Will they find themselves in awkward discussions before, during or after the act?

What do you think? What story line would you like to pursue? What are your views on the issue?

so, I finally got some…

It’s rather pathetic, don’t you think, that I feel the need to announce publicly each and every time I get a little action?

The lobbyist was in town, we exchanged some texts and, after scrambling for a babysitter, found time to meet for a cocktail. And when someone invites you to meet in the lobby bar of his hotel and you agree, it’s pretty much understood what’s on the agenda.

So, it was all good (not great). I was struck by noticing that it’s simple human touch that I miss the most. I just loved being kissed and caressed. But, truth be told, we’ve always had this insanely hot undercurrent of chemistry…the kind which might lead a girl to believe that a man so straight-laced and mild-mannered might be an absolute animal in the bedroom. I mean, I kind of hoped he might have really wild and kinky proclivities underneath it all. Guess what? He didn’t. He was just a straight-laced, mild-mannered guy — exactly what you see when he wears a suit.

And it was still lovely to be touched, kissed and appreciated, and to lie in a man’s arms.

do men notice or appreciate toe cleavage?

It was only a few months ago that I first heard of toe cleavage…and I thought, “is that really a thing?”

So when some girlfriends recently commented on a cute pair of shoes that highlighted my toe cleavage, I thought about it again: Do men really notice this sort of thing? And, if they do, do they find it sexy?

So my curiosity led me to take an informal poll among the few men who are regularly a part of my ongoing male-female relationship dynamic conversation. Here are their responses:

The lobbyist: “No and definitely not.” Further inquiry / pushing the issue led to “Yuk!”
Chi-guy: “No and no. I like that you are secure enough to talk about your totally weird foot fetish.” Followed by, “Actual cleavage is often noticed… Anyway, I notice kindness.” And later, “I’ll suck your toes while you whisper kind things…”
more-like-it: “I enjoy nice feet… Love to massage them…” followed by a very graphic description of a sexual position / activity to which I could only reply, “You’re naughty!”
By far the best response came from the guy in the cubicle next to me who I clearly should not have even asked (Hello HR!), but did: He nodded thoughtfully and said ever so diplomatically, “Mm-hmm. Different guys notice different aspects of a woman’s appearance to different degrees. Some guys are going to be in to feet, some are more in to other things.”

For the record, I don’t have a foot fetish myself. I’m just not grossed out by feet (as long as a certain level of hygiene is employed), and I appreciate having my own feet enjoyed. I take care to keep them looking nice, and I like having them rubbed, and I think it’s lovely when a man isn’t afraid to pay a little attention to the lowly feet and toes as a part of physical intimacy.

So, there you have it. There are men who are completely foot-phobic. And, while it’s a little, simple thing, this whole discussion clearly illustrates that the kind of guy who is grossed out by feet is not the guy for me.

just shoot me

I had occasion recently to appear as a talking head in a video for a little project my neighbor and I are doing. I dressed carefully and put on make-up. I rehearsed my talking points a few times and, as I was already passionate about the subject matter, felt pretty confident about it. We did just one take; she said I nailed it.

And then I saw and heard me in the rectangular box, and this is what happened in my head: “oh, do I really look like that? why did I choose that top / neckline? my arms look fat! does my tone of voice always sound so harsh? is that how my mouth moves when I talk? I wonder how I look when I eat? ewww! look at me — I am fundamentally flawed and unlovable! I look just like my sister when I do that… no wonder I am single! how could someone watch me talk or eat or merely look at me every day and still want to be around?! it is simply not possible. I am destined to die alone. with ugly gnashing jaws and pursing lips. aaarrgh!”

Attractive? Not so much. Irrational? Decidedly. Unique? Not at all.

I suspect there are very few of us on the planet who actually enjoy watching video of ourselves talking or eating or doing much of anything. Even more than a photograph, video brings out the self-conscious, self-critical voice in all of us. Regardless of how we look or talk or gesture or carry ourselves, our inner critic is the great equalizer. I suspect even Hollywood hotties feel this way. Take Eva Mendez, for instance (because I’m pretty sure she’s one of the sexiest women on the planet): does she like the way she looks when she eats on screen? is her inner critic as obnoxious as mine? or is she just used to it by now? did acting lessons or professional training teach her and other starlets how to look good talking and eating? or have she and these other leading women just learned to silence their inner critics or not watch?

I’ve been a part of bigger shoots in what now seems like a previous lifetime. There was professional lighting, film shot from the most flattering angle (and it is so much softer and more forgiving than video), air-brush applied make-up and super-hold hairspray, a stylist to drape my wardrobe just right… And, oddly enough, after all that external manipulation, I felt perfectly at ease and natural!

But right now, there is an unflattering video of my talking head out there on the web. I’ll have to live with it, because it’s part of a larger scheme representing positive forward movement in my life. Let’s just hope I can afford the full crew next time…or get used to myself!

have I mentioned what my mother thinks?

My mother has just popped in for a visit… I’m not sure whether I’ve explicitly mentioned this or not: my mother thinks Chi-guy rocks. Why?

Because I told her what happened in Chicago last Labor Day Weekend. I told her that I’d been flirting with a guy I’ve long known, that I was pretty sure we were going to sleep together and that, although I’d made my interest known, he patted me on the knee, told me he liked me and bid me goodnight…potentially the single most humiliating experience of my life.

Her response: “So you finally met a decent man!”

To which I might ask, “what kind of mother-f$#%ing c@#%-sucker would let a girl believe he was good to go and then turn her down?”

Even having seen a photo of “The Hammer” (yes, I’ve actually showed my mother), she thinks he must be pretty great. (Of course, anyone who’s seen the hammer thinks he’s pretty great!)

But let’s take a step back and analyze this train of thought: it would appear that my mother, who has never once met or spoken with Chi-guy, thinks he is fabulous based only on his refusal to sleep with me. Because of some weird “he liked me” whatever thing that was going on with him. Which struck me as very high school at the time.

So let’s consider the fact that most of the men in the world have not slept with me. And this fact is not due entirely to refusals, but also my own good sense. In fact, while Chi-guy might tease me about being easy, this is not entirely the case. True, I’ve been probably too honest with him about my post-divorce escapades… yet I am, in fact, very selective.

There are an awful lot of men I haven’t slept with. To be sure, I haven’t slept with most men. I haven’t even slept with most single men within in a given desirable age range and aesthetic within a five-mile radius. Does this make them all fabulous potential mates? According to my mother’s reasoning, one might think so…or perhaps it might only if they turned me down.

Chi-guy laughs at all this talk. He has suggested that I should certainly consider allowing someone else to make choices for me, given the poor judgment I’ve exhibited in the past. (But good Lord, so has my mother! And, let us remember, Chi-guy’s marriage also ended in divorce.) Were I to delve into the topic of arranged marriage, it could take several posts. So, for now, let’s just say that I will happily accept the consequences of my own choices…I think.

is he “the one”?

I’ve written a few times about looking for “the one,” that special person with whom I hope to spend the rest of my life.

But I want to be absolutely clear about something: I don’t think there is just one possible mate for me. I’m not looking for some ridiculous, incredible ideal; I’m looking for something real.

Sometimes dating, especially online dating, feels like searching for that sort of needle in a haystack. Yet I don’t intend to search the world over, holding out, looking over the shoulder of whoever I’m with, thinking someone more perfect or better for me is just around the corner. And I won’t just settle for the next bloke to give me a modicum of attention, either.

Rather, I think there are any number of men out there who might make an excellent companion and co-conspirator. I don’t need them all. I will happily commit to just one.

And even though my list has gotten more specific, I really see my guy being at any point along a spectrum of awesome qualities. He could be kind of bookish, or maybe he’s into architecture (Brad Pitt style), or he might collect those little vinyl figures — he’s probably got a geek streak a mile wide! I’m attracted to dark-haired guys…and I think bald guys are hot, too. Oddly enough, most of the men I’ve dated in my life have been percussionists, even if only in high school band…

Most of all, “the one” is the guy who is happy because I’m happy. He supports me in choices that serve my highest self, and he loves to see and make me happy. He loves my receptivity, strength and appreciation.

It’s sort of odd that I’m writing about this now, just as I’ve put my dating life on hold (in favor of a whole slew of personal projects I’ve elected to take on — in addition to my full-time job, single parenting and a yard that needs attention). In essence, rather than attempting to date all the wrong guys I’ve been meeting online, I’m going to date myself and devote some time to me. But I suspect he’ll show up when I’m not looking anyway, and I’ll know him when I’m confident in how I feel.

spring status update

I think I thought I knew what I was looking for. I think I thought I was ready to meet someone special. But the more I put myself out there, the more I realize how cautious and self-protective I am, and it seems that all this dating business is a lot of work.

I mean, there have been some guys with whom it doesn’t seem like work at all — in fact, those are the ones I’ve mostly written about here. Chi-guy and more-like-it come to mind. I think I could talk to either for an eternity without getting bored or having to manufacture the next topic of conversation. And yet neither really put the moves on, either…and a guy’s got to express a little bit of romantic interest for this to work.

Other guys I’ve met have been much more eager to touch me, kiss me, do the more “dating-like” things with me, but they haven’t been as easy conversationalists. And, when one is considering the importance of long-term companionship, the ease with which conversation flows matters.

Still other men have proven to be incredible flakes. One instant messaged me to ask if we could meet that very evening, and then removed his profile completely only moments later. In fact, a few have removed profiles in the midst of a dialogue, which I find somewhat strange. (Though I may be about to do that very thing myself…)

The healthiest and most satisfying relationships I’ve had have begun as friendships. But I’ve seen a great deal of dating advice that cautions against hoping that a friendship will ever lead to more. Furthermore, it seems a little off to put oneself out there on a dating site and then suggest that one is interested in developing new friendships. That sounds a little too disingenuous — like friends with benefits. Which is not what I’m looking for. (Though I could go for a little sporting action while keeping a watchful eye for Mr. Right.)

When I step back and look at the bigger picture, it feels very funny to me to acknowledge that my most significant post-marriage relationships have been with Max and then Chi-guy. I actually talked about Max with Chi-guy, who asked me “So what exactly happened between you and Max?” “Nothing,” I answered, “we developed a beautiful flirtatious friendship that helped me find myself again.”

And there are those who ask what happened with Chi-guy. The same answer is true…nothing happened. We’ve developed a beautiful flirtatious friendship…

But a girl can always hope!

resonance vs. dissonanace

The human mind makes countless judgements in the blink of an eye, the high-tech matter between the ears filtering what’s important and what’s not. We notice, determine and discern, consciously and unconsciously processing information for relevance, significance or congruence.

As it relates to dating, we notice little things about the folks we meet and add them to evidence for or against our potential or compatibility. We’re searching for clues, for resonance or dissonance. I wrote of that cosmic call-and-answer phenomenon I experienced when I met more-like-it. This is a great example of resonance, cues that I’m getting closer to attracting the kind of man I’d like in my life. I use this information to get even more specific.

For example, my list doesn’t specify what type of car my future mate should drive, yet I find I notice and interpret. I like a nice ride, and I suspect my guy also has an appreciation for foreign engineering. I’m not going to add this sort of thing to my list, but it resonates with me. (Let’s not discuss that my foreign-make luxury sedan is rusting and 15-years-old.)

Also, based on the kinds of conversations and emotional maturity level of the various guys I’ve met, I think I share a greater resonance with divorced men who have children. They seem a little more introspective and…well…humble. I’m not going to rule out a man who’s never been married nor had children; right now I just find it easier to relate to guys who’ve gone through something similar to what I’ve been through. Perhaps I won’t feel the same way in a few months or years.

If you look at the stats (50% of first marriages end in divorce; 70% of second marriages end in divorce), then I should probably reconsider. Marrying a guy who’s never been married could at least improve my odds by 10%, right? Bring it right on down to 60% chance of divorce. Now that’s winning!

I was once telling a friend about the lobbyist. I scoffed at the idea of even flirting with him, until my friend pointed out, “How do you know who can love you best?” It’s a good question. Maybe the man who will love me best is an actuary or a litigator…but it’s certainly easier to envision having a relationship with someone who shares a certain intellectual or career resonance, as well. (And by resonance, I’m leaning toward compatibility, understanding, rather than sameness.)

So…is all this an exercise in intellectual laziness? Am I looking in the mirror and trying to find someone just like me? Or are these clues to finding a match and a sense of belonging real?

Ideally, I’d like to think there’s someone out there with whom I share plenty in common, but who can also stretch my mind, imagination and sense of what’s possible, just as I hope to do for him.

dating with children

Let me begin by describing my children: they are healthy — free of allergies, asthma and chronic conditions. (Knock on wood…we should all be so blessed.) They are energetic and love to run and play. Each has a mellow and sweet disposition and both are well-liked. Also, they are beautiful. Sure, I have parenting challenges like anyone else, but I am blessed beyond measure to have these bright, loving and cooperative children to nurture.

I try to be a halfway decent mother (despite, at one time, having had the inclination to write a series of parenting manuals called “The Bad Parents’ Guide to…” Shoulda.). Therefore, it was pretty important to me to try to take the high road (as much as I could) during the dismantling of my marriage.

Part of this, in my mind, meant limiting my children’s exposure to my interpersonal relationships with other men. I didn’t want them to see me going from one relationship right into another. However, from the moment my ex moved out, this proved a difficult task: Male friends seemed to come out of the woodwork in my first days, weeks and months of becoming single, stopping by to see if I needed something done around the house. One fixed the radiator on my car and another thanked me for a project I’d voluntarily done for him (well over a decade ago) with an envelope of cash. Others took us on outings to amusement parks or to the movies.

Children are keen to pick up energy, and mine sensed no hanky-panky as these were strictly platonic relationships. No harm was done — and, unfortunately, this volunteerism quickly tapered off.

As I’ve begun to date, however, I must be more vigilant about what I say and do around my children. They are my nearly constant companions and, at times, my confidantes. I try to maintain appropriate parent/adult-child boundaries yet, I have to confess, this can be difficult. My children are exposed to some prime time television, so they are not oblivious to the notion of crushes or liking others of the opposite sex or adults wanting to kiss. So they have witnessed a small handful of my (telephone) interactions with Chi-guy, for example. They were in the car when I called to wish him a happy birthday, and also when I asked him to take me on a date. They probably catch glimpses of my online dating site, but I doubt they understand what it is.

I feel blessed to be able to have open conversations with my children about having a boy for a friend but also having a crush on him. We speak in terms they can understand, and they have an opportunity to voice the requisite, “I wish you still liked Daddy.” Me too. That would have been much easier on all of us.

So what do my children know of my dating life? They know I have a friend in Chicago who I have a crush on. They know I want to meet men and find a life partner. They know I want to be married and live as a family together with a man other than their father, and that might mean with other children, too. And they ask questions about these things: “What will he be like?” He’ll be kind and loving. “Do you think Daddy might have a friend you’d like?” Um, I don’t think that would be a very good idea. “Will he like children?” He’s going to have to. And then I remind them about staying with Max and his family and how his step children snuggle right up to him.

The day I met more-like-it, my children got off the bus and my son asked how my day was. I told my children that it had been a great day — in fact, I’d met a really cool guy that morning for coffee. (I did not mention that it was a date.) My son asked, “Mommy, do you think you might have made a new friend?” I hope so, I told him.

I think I’ve managed all this pretty well so far. I have yet to date anyone seriously, so no love interests have been brought into my children’s lives. And I intend to err on the side of caution, dating on the weekends that the children are with their father. I plan to wait until a relationship is heading toward commitment before introducing any man into their lives. These are bridges I’ll cross when the time comes.

Meanwhile, my biggest fumble so far is leaving my sanitized vibrator on the counter top to dry and realizing it was still sitting there when my daughter dumped her water bottle in the sink after school. Oops! Not sure we’re ready for that conversation yet…

which is worse, hormones or tmi?

I’ve mentioned before that the 40-year-old divorcée’s libido is beyond compare. I had a few months of fun as a singleton and then decided I was over the empty, hollow physical affairs. In other words, I’ve given up casual sex in search of meaning.

But I can’t deny that lately I revisit this stance at least monthly, if not weekly. (Okay, fine, perhaps daily or hourly is more accurate.) Depending on where I am hormonally.

Again, this topic is inspired by someone I met online — or, rather, the kind of information to be found online. I liked his mind, yet I don’t anticipate seeing him again — at least not in a romantically inclined manner. Still, having had some rather openly expressive conversations and flirtatious emails, I found him sexually intriguing. He seems more experimental than most of my past lovers have been. He obliquely mentioned porn twice in approximately three conversations, as well as confessing that he’s a big fan of toys. I can’t deny having browsed through all the sex-related questions he answered as part of his profile on our dating site. It seems he has answered an abundance, compulsively…and the things he’s willing to do with his tongue are…well, let’s just say the thought excites me.

In other words, I probably know too much for my own good. I can’t help but think it would be fun — really fun — to take that knowledge and convert it into experience.

Thus, in spite of my desire to have a tender, loving, intimate relationship with genuine companionship and long-term potential, my hormones and intrigue are conspiring against me. I am actually tempted to proposition this man. Even though I know better. Even though there are many other guys who have shown far more interest in getting physical with me, rather than merely titillating banter. But, Jeez, while I’m searching for the needle in the haystack, is it really necessary to deny myself some healthy sport?

The problem is, of course, that while I’ve proven to myself that I am capable of sex free from emotional encumbrance, I think the likelihood that I could manage such an arrangement with this particular fellow is small. Who was it who observed that men can’t think clearly until they get sex, while women are capable of thinking clearly only until they have sex? At any rate, I definitely think there’s some truth in it. I’m inclined to believe I might develop feelings. So I shall try to resist the encouragement of the devil on my shoulder.

I’m not really sure whether it’s hormones, this blessed, cursed 40-year-old libido or too much graphic knowledge that’s causing me to have these thoughts. But I’d be lying if I tried to deny thinking them.