A Lot of Sex

November 3, 2008

Harley was still planning on waiting longer to have sex, but when I got back from California, I knew the waiting wasn’t going to last for much longer.  I had been thinking about him all week.  We had enough of a foundation set before I left for our relationship to continue to grow and evolve during the week.  I already knew I was serious about diving into a relationship with Harley.  I knew I had to be sure before I let him open his heart to me.  I also knew I would be second to open my heart.

The week apart gave me some time and distance to be extra sure I was ready to let him into my life and more importantly, let him into my heart.

So, on October 24, with the approval of my mom and son, we officially became “boyfriend and girlfriend.”  Although I had been feeling it for a while, it was the first day that I said what I was feeling out loud.  I told him I loved him.  He said he loved me, but I already knew that.  I knew he didn’t want to say it before me.  He didn’t want to scare me away.  He had already started loving me months earlier.  He had every intention and hope of being with me long before I considered the possibility.  He had been praying for a relationship with me.

I don’t know if it was “fast” or “slow,” but there was no other way for it to be.  We made love for the first time that night, or should I say the first few times?!

Much to his embarrassment, that weekend I texted our common female friends (my coworkers), telling them that he is amazing in bed.  He really is.  He is so attentive and soft and romantic and loving…more so than I am…although there is still hope for me!  I warned him that it takes forever for me to come, but he had no problem giving me an orgasm in record time.  Meanwhile, I am learning to be less of a guy when it comes to sex.  I slipped and used the f-word and he told me that each and every time he was with me, he was going to make love to me.

I Found the Cure for Loneliness!

October 14, 2008


I can’t believe it’s taken me this many years to figure it out.  If it was a simpler solution, I would have had this figured out years ago.  As it turns out, there is a scientific formula.  It goes something like this:

loneliness + desire to date + dating = confusion + frustration

dating + “free” dating sites = fear + disgust + cynicism

frustration + chocolate = less confusion

loneliness + vibrator = momentary happiness

dating + blogging about it + chocolate + vibrator = an absence of loneliness

I may not win the Nobel Peace Prize for the above calculations, but that’s okay.  The above sums up the degree of excitement (or should I say apathy?) I’m feeling about dating at the moment. 

The good news is that I am getting a serious change of scenery next week.  I will be checking out as many eligible men as possible in California.  It’s a big state and I’ll only have 4 or 5 days, but I’ll see what I can come up with.

Meanwhile, Harley and I have plans to hang out on Friday night.  Hmmm.  I wonder if it will pan out?

Plenty of Fish Hangover

September 30, 2008

After yesterday’s escapade into the previously uncharted (at least for me) territory of IMing with strangers, it seemed fitting that I call Patrick (imagine a sex-crazed entrepreneurial mad scientist).  If he didn’t live so far away (500+ miles), he would have been one lucky guy last night.

Patrick was busy last night, so we only talked for a few minutes (about the bailout, which is not why I called).  He called me back this morning on his way to work.  I told him I was frisky and frustrated.  He wanted to hear about my latest escapades and fantasies, but I told him I didn’t have any real action to report…and (he should know this by now) I am shy when it comes to sharing fantasies.  That helped jog his memory…he suddenly remembered I like to hear about his sexual experiences, so he hesitantly admitted to a fairly recent CraigsList hookup.

I knew it would be a good story based on his reluctant tone.  It was a “party”…at a gym.  I kept asking, “…and then what?…” until he finished spilling the beans.  I’ll have to spare you the details because I don’t run a porn site here!  The moral of the story is that he had a great time, but he felt sick about it afterwards.

That’s how I feel about yesterday’s IMing experience.  It was kind of gross and inappropriate.  I managed to get drawn in, thanks to my hormones.  Being turned on is intoxicating and impairs ones judgment!  Now, today I feel kind of gross. 

Hairy Legs, Smelly Feet, and Toenail Polish

September 14, 2008

I like to spice things up on my blog(s) now and again.  Once I’ve written a few serious posts, I like to throw in some fluff.

I dated a guy several years ago named (Gosh, am I running out of fake names already?)…Moe.  Don’t ask me where I come up with these names, they just pop in my head.  He’s the last person since Dave that I dated enough times to lose track of how many times we went out.  Things were going along fine with Moe. 

Holy crapola.  I just remembered something really trippy.  I made this connection when I first started going out with Dave, but then I forgot about it.  Now it just seems really bizarre.  Let me tell you about Moe first.

I’ll skip over the details and get to the heart of the matter.  The reason I broke up with Moe was because he had a hard time “getting it up.”  Apparently he was on some kind of medication (gosh, this sounds familiar!).  I could have perhaps cut him some slack, since he was ultimately able to get it up.  The problem was that he had fetishes that he needed to “utilize”…to get it up.  He had two fetishes: hairy legs and smelly feet.

I have hairy legs.  I’m a feminist.  I hate shaving.  If waxing wasn’t so expensive, I’d do it regularly.  I shave about once a week or so in the summer to keep things from getting too out of hand, but I rarely shave in the winter time, except to weed wack my legs every few months for maintenance purposes.

Most guys I date don’t mind the hairy legs.  But the fact that Moe loved hairy legs seemed kind of inappropriate.  And smelly feet?  I just don’t have smelly feet.  I never have.  None of my shoes smell, even my old athletic shoes.  I guess it’s my body chemistry or my diet or something. 

Moe looked at online porn, too.  I’m not really into porn.  I guess it would be one thing if you watched porn and then were ready to properly (and of course, consensually) ravish me.  But if you watch porn, need my legs to be hairy, and have to put my toes up to your nose and inhale deeply to get hard, then that’s just over the top.

Dave, on the other hand, has a “strong preference” for shaved legs, which I find somewhat inconvenient.  He expects me to shave my legs.  I’m a busy woman.  I have better things to do than shave my freaking legs (which is probably somehwere close to half of the surface area of my ENTIRE body) every other day.  He also says painted toenails is a “turn on.”  The moment he told me that is when a red flag went up…I asked him if it was a fetish and he insisted it wasn’t.  But silly me, I painted my toenails.

I’m noticing a continuing theme here with Dave…a growing list of small things I’ve done to accomodate him…and although he’s definitely done some nice things for me, I can’t help but notice the imbalance.

Physical Intimacy, Gender, and Sex

August 7, 2008

Sure, physical intimacy is nice.  There’s nothing like the human touch.  But in this society, this is one area where women have a serious advantage over men.  We can hug other women, our children, our nieces and nephews…with no social stigma.  Men don’t have the freedom to go around hugging other men (or women) or small children (just check the national sex registry to see how many pedophiles live in your neighborhood you’ll never want any men around your children or anyone else’s). 


Women supposedly are the ones who confuse love with sex.  I beg to differ.  I think that sex is the only socially acceptable way men are allowed to experience physical closeness.  I think that men often become confused about what they want.  It’s a lot more macho to go get a piece of @$$ than go looking for hugs.

Why I’m Not Desperate for Sex

August 7, 2008

Reflecting back to Bob and the way that a bike ride, dinner, and half a glass of wine added up to unwanted sexual advances, this leads me to two more questions, which relate to each other. 


Question #2:  Don’t men know that we can have sex whenever we want? 


Right now, I’m sitting at home by myself, unshowered, and I bet you I could be having sex with a man in 30 minutes or less.  In other words, I could have sex with pretty much whoever I want, whenever I want.  Or I can masturbate.  Why should I want to have sex at all, let alone with you?


Why would I want to potentially expose myself to pregnancy and STDs (condom’s can break) in exchange for…20 minutes of feeling good, culminating in feeling frustrated (see Question #3)?  What kind of trade-off is that?  So, back to Bob.  Why didn’t I respond to Bob’s sexual advances?  First, because I didn’t want to.  Second, because I’d rather have sex with my vibrator, which is exactly what I did when I got home.  Thirty seconds of pleasure and a great orgasm with no chance of getting pregnant or acquiring an STD.  Fabulous!


Question #3:  Do men realize that male and female sexual organs are more alike than different? 


Do they not realize that the equivalent of their penis is our clitoris?  How would they like it if we played with their testicles for 10 minutes, managed to gratify ourselves, and rolled over and went to sleep?


I heard a term years ago.  It was something like ‘masturbatory sex.’  I didn’t quite get what it meant.  Then one day, it dawned on me.  It’s what I just described.  It’s selfish sex, using someone else’s body as a means of masturbation – without returning the favor!


One thing I won’t quantify on this blog is how many times I’ve had sex with men without having an orgasm.  Or how many times I’ve had sex with the same person, over and over, and haven’t had an orgasm.  Or how many times I’ve had one-night stands with men and didn’t have an orgasm.  Would you like to know why I didn’t have an orgasm on this multitude of occasions?  Because too many of men I’ve slept with didn’t bother, not once, to touch my clitoris.  One night, I had sex with this guy who was supposed to be the local Rico Suave.  We had sex three times in one night.  I initiated the sex the second and third time.  Why?  Because I wasn’t satisfied.  Nope, still not satisfied after the third time.  I NEVER had sex with him again.  He was probably perplexed, wondering why I was a sex maniac on one occasion and never slept with him again.  Duh. 

Date #2 Epilogue/Commentary

August 7, 2008

As I escape this second-date-turned-bad, I find myself imagining how I will deal with him should he ask me out again.  As I drive home, I imagine the polite possibility of offering to be friends, possibly meeting up for occasional bike rides.  Then I think, “Hey stupid-head, do what is right for you and stop putting how the other person feels before how you feel!”  Then I imagine saying something like, “I don’t think we’re compatible or looking for the same things.”  But, then I catch myself saying I don’t think we’re compatible (an attempt to soften the blow?) when really, I know we’re not compatible. 


And why am I thinking about how to let him down gently?  Why am I focused on how he feels?  That date was mildly traumatizing and here I am worried about his feelings.  Back to me and how I felt in response to his behavior.  Beyond feeling extremely uncomfortable, I felt offended and disrespected by him.  I felt disrespected because he was invading my physical space.  I was offended that he seemed to think I was ready to jump into bed with him on the second date.  I was offended that he hadn’t bothered to take the time to get to know me very well.  Not that I would know from personal experience (ok, maybe I do), but having sex with someone you barely know is pretty meaningless.  It doesn’t matter who the person is; it’s just sex. 


To sum up, I felt uncomfortable, disrespected, and offended by his behavior.  And I went out of my way to avoid behaving in a way that would ‘hurt his feelings’.  I finally gave into my flight response and still kept thinking about how he felt.  That’s stupid!  Why would I put some random guys feelings before my own?