An Extraordinary Writer

I am reading the blog Smalltown Adultery- I can’t remember how I found her blog, but I’m mesmerized by this woman’s writing. And, I’m curious about the backstory, I’ve yet to figure out if she has an open marriage or not. But, mainly I go there to be entertained. Her writing is erotic and literary. So often people who write to titillate write with lots of thrusts and throbs, drips, shiny penises etc.. It feels like a string of ‘potty mouth ‘ words poorly constructed. Ellie writes with style-she’s very explicit but it feels so natural.

This recent post is enough to make me want to call someone up and invite him to my bed. Now.  It’s that alluring.  The post is titled NSFW, I have no idea what that means. And, I don’t really want to try and parse it out, I just want to be with the story and the feelings it evokes.

Compulsions, Addictions and Longings

I am an online dating addict-when I go there I get all caught up in it, in the worst of ways. It becomes a referendum on my worth, as measured by men. Silly, silly me.

Online dating is one approach to finding companionship, a short term lover, a life partner. Certainly there are other ways, more natural and often less complicated. I haven’t been on a blind date since I was in boarding school but it is one method of getting to know the opposite sex. So, is walking around with a sandwich board which proclaims one’s single and horny status!

I have gone on Match.com a few times over the last month or so. Oddly enough, because I don’t really get it, I went to see if the guy I just let go was looking yet. Of course I didn’t find him, not that it made me feel better. I ended the relationship, with amazingly no regrets so I’m not really jealous, more curious I guess? What I did find on Match were a lot of familiar faces- I want to proclaim them losers until I remind myself that I also am in that ‘looking’ state again.

I haven’t done more than a quick run through, only looking closer at 2 men with a promising look about them. There were so many who seemed so totally wrong for me, even in that first glimpse, that I felt relief and a sense of futility at the same time.  Relief because I have other things I need to focus on and this helped me see that Match wasn’t worth the tremendous energy drain. Futility? There just aren’t too many available men out there! Ugh.

So, this morning as I write it’s to shed a light on what I’m doing, on what I want. I do want a man in my life. I just don’t want to struggle to find him.  And, I don’t want to give up one smidge of who I am in order to do so.

Melting

He asked me to meet him for a drink. I suggested we meet here at my house, letting him know my son was here-a chaperone and a signaling of my intentions.

Later in the evening than normal but nice to have the relaxed visit instead of a noisy bar with distractions and curious eyes. Only last week I’d reminded him of our last ending, how difficult and painful it had been for both of us. That was 19 months ago. Before that we had not seen each other for 3 years.

I’ve known this man for about 6 years now.  An innocent conversation among a group of people which brought a little spark. I confess to giving him my email address one evening-quiet and discreet. We emailed and shared an occasional drink at our favorite bar. It went farther, almost spontaneously, innocently. I didn’t want anyone to be hurt and yet I understood that the damage had already been done. I was not the first and I assumed I would not be the last. I never expected this to be anything other than a fleeting, momentary flirtation. A divorced woman, a married man.

After my recent break up, I happened to visit our old bar. He was there, we talked, tentatively, putting a physical distance between ourselves. In the time it takes to exhale, the feelings came rushing back. For both of us. And I agree to meet him for a drink, to say no. To remind him of our last parting and why, how I deserve more. My self-respect. I broached the conversation and was speaking what I knew needed to be said, uncertain even as I spoke as to whether I would stick to my intentions.  Moments later, a couple near us turned to ask if we were on a first date. They thought we looked cute, and clearly more engaged than a normal married couple. I smiled and said no, not a first date. As the tears rolled down my face.  There weren’t words for us to express what we both felt, the acknowledgment of how this would play out. He’s never been good at expressing emotions.

Last night he came over for that drink. We sat on the living room sofa, drinks in hand, facing the fire and holding our sides of the sofa tightly. A wide expanse of space in between. Pleasant chats about movies, golf, which one of the Millenium books we liked the best and so on.

Gradually shoes came off, and with feet propped on coffee table his socked foot rubbed mine.  Something inside of me melted and I slid over a little on the sofa. It felt so nice to feel his arm around my shoulder, to have him close, to feel his touch. Midstream in the conversation he leaned over and kissed me. The past came floating back, the good memories and the sad ones.

I know what I should do, but I’ve never been all that good at sticking to my resolve and he knows that. He plays on my weakness.  The sacrifice is all mine along with the sadness and knowledge of  an empty bed and solitary evenings. He tells me,” you think too much”.  And, under my breath I say, “you don’t think enough”.

Passion

Passion-fiery, red hot, throbbing, pulsating moments of desire. The ultimate passion for me is the kiss, slow and gradual, which builds as we touch, gently, slowly with building intensity. For me, the kiss is everything, it sets the tone and is the ultimate in foreplay.

If the kiss is good, I begin to feel a slow building of desire, warmth spreads slowly through my body and I want to touch. To feel his face, to run my fingers through his hair as we begin to feel passion building.

Admittedly there have been very few moments of bodice-ripping passion in my life. You know, the ones you see in the movies where they fall on the floor,tearing each other’s clothes off with abandon. I think those are the fairy tale moments. Hoped for, but as with much we see in the media, crafted to draw us in.  Nevertheless, it is the kind of passion we may all desire, at some point in our lives. I don’t think it stops with age or time.  I am as interested in passionate moments at this age as I was in my 30′s and 40′s- more so now that I’ve explored the limits of my sexuality.

Passion takes many forms and is not always expressed as a sexual act. I have deep desires for other things in my life, and people, places and activities I love. But, I wouldn’t necessarily call them my passion.

I want to be in the arms of the man who could take my breath away, the moment of a kiss that literally makes me weak in the knees. It is a lovely dream, part fantasy, part possibility.  I call it passion.

This is my entry in Jillsy Girl’s One Word Wednesday.

Who Needs ‘Em Anyway?

So, I’ve been thinking. I have a pleasant little stash of sex toys, which I’m reacquainting myself with this weekend. I’ve come to the conclusion that my best sex is really going to be had with my toys.  I have no intentions of  giving up men. Kissing is the best sex in the world, if the kisser is good. I love touching and being touched, that little thrill of delight in feeling his fingers delicately caressing my body. But when it comes to sex, as a woman, I think I might just prefer my assorted vibrators.

Let me tell you why. First, you need to understand that the naturally occurring intercourse-induced orgasm is not something all of us are able to achieve. A woman can be orgasmic vaginally or clitorally, or both. I”m a clit girl; so I need and prefer external stimulation and the right kind.

With sex toys, the controls are in your hands. You control the amount of pressure and where it’s applied. Have you ever been on the verge of orgasm only to find that your partner changes rhythm, or decides to try something else and shifts just ever so slightly? And all you can think, is Nooooo, don’t leave, stay right there!  And, by the time you’ve voiced that, he’s moved and it’s gone. More than once I’ve been in that spot; even with someone who’s intimately acquainted with my body and knows what turns me on.

Vibrators and other sex toys come with varied options- fast or slow, pulsating or in hyper mode. Some of the fancier models (which I need to take for a test run) have multiple speeds and motions which you can play with to your heart’s content.

Once you’ve got the vibrator doing what makes you feel good, you can play for a longer period of time, vary things, add a little nipple stimulation or other, and still be assured of finding the exact kind of orgasm you want. If pure sexual satisfaction is the goal, this is the surefire way to assure success. The DIY orgasm.  I’m sold on it!

And, yes… I know what you’re thinking, it seems so lacking in personal touch. Technically, no.  And, yes it’s not the ideal way to find satisfaction, if you define satisfaction as a mutual exploration of the body and mind. Two bodies coming together to light sparks, delight, amuse, arouse is the ultimate sensual experience; elusive at times, yet worthy of muddling through all the challenges in hopes of finding that one special person. As with all things in life, we make compromises-we adapt to our situations. And for now, it’s all about me, taking care of my needs. I’m willing to share my toys… when that time comes.

I’ll be going to check out some Sex Toys at Babeland to check out some of their new options. And, if I buy something pink by the end of October, a percentage of their profits goes to fight breast cancer. Their slogan: Come For a Cause!

So, what do you think? Are you a vibrator type of woman?

A Wedding Ring and Memories

Over at Jillsy Girl’s blog there is a weekly challenge called One Word Wednesday. Each week, a new reader chooses the word and we all create a post based on that word. Today’s word is Gold.

In 1976 I took my grandmother’s diamond ring  to the jewelers. My fiance and I were taking the diamond, one dating back to the early 1900′s, to be reset into my engagement ring. It’s a pretty diamond with some sentimental value. We chose a gold setting, with this diamond and a sapphire on either side. Some years later, one Christmas I think, my husband presented me with 2 guard rings of gold and small sapphires, to go with my ring. We ‘welded’ them together to make one large ring.

In 1999 I took that ring off my finger and placed it in a drawer. Then I held my breath for days waiting to see if my husband or teen-aged son noticed, there was no mention of it. The finger showed the impression of a ring, the sunken circle on my finger, for what seemed like months. I felt naked in a way, with a twinge of naughtiness mixed with relief. By taking off the ring I was silently declaring myself- no longer, if ever, in love with my husband, no longer feeling the need to pretend and carry out the role of Wife. I wasn’t ready to make an open declaration, but I was moving forward.

Time passed and we divorced. I never wore the ring again, the one time I tried the finger had swollen and the ring no longer fit. Maybe the finger expanded, as my life began to expand with the freedom and the challenges I had provided myself. The ring, with it’s sparkling gems and shiny yellow gold bands, sat on my dressing table for years- hidden in the little bowl among my earrings and other rings.  I pick it up occasional and wonder what to do with it. The gold symbolizes nothing for me now; I’ve let go of any significance the ring held for me, a mixture of regret and sorrow, a remembrance of happier moments. The ring will go to one of my children I guess; the diamond holds family significance and is worth a modest amount. But, I wonder how they would feel about the ring of a failed marriage? All the glitter and gold can’t change the fact that we split up after 2o-some years of marriage.

But gold is valuable and the ring is truly lovely.  The pledge it signified is one I kept faithfully and out of that union I brought 2 wonderful children into this world. Their existence, their glittering beauty is what the ring symbolizes for me today and what is worth remembering and passing down to the next generation.

Why I Want a Man

I feel compelled to tell the truth, so here goes. It’s been roughly a month since someone held my hand, or hugged me, kissed me or cuddled up behind me in bed and held me in his arms. I miss it. I get in bed at night to cold sheets and the bed seems so large and empty. I huddle around my body pillow and get all scrunched down and in a tight ball, but I’m still alone.

I’m not totally sure what I want. I know I’m not looking for a 24/7 relationship right now, maybe never?  Would a friend with privileges relationship satisfy me? Again, I don’t know. There are pluses to having a sleep-over just as there are negatives. I couldn’t rest comfortably with a relative stranger in my bed all night; hearing me snore ever so slightly, or whatever sounds one of us might emit. That’s not very sexy, but inevitable.

I had an affair several years back; specifically he had the affair, I just went along for the ride. Guilt got to both of us, and my desire for a self-respecting relationship helped me move on. It feels cheap, no matter what the rationalization, to send him off after a few hours, and spend the rest of the day/afternoon/night alone. That didn’t satisfy my longing for connection. So, a friend-with-privileges arrangement might not work either. Unless I can adopt the right mindset.

What would be ideal? A friendship that was more than friend, less than fulltime partner.  Intimate enough to satisfy each other, emotionally and physically, while giving us both breathing room. Enough of a commitment for me to be able to fully enjoy the sexual part-something I have difficulty with in a one-night stand. It’s fun but not often orgasmic.  I need to feel more comfortable and able to connect-he has to want to take the time to learn my body.

Truthfully, I can satisfy my own sexual urges in a way that few men can. I know exactly where, when and how to bring myself pleasure. And, it’s much less complicated to take care of myself then trying to find the safe, single, experienced man. But, I come back to the first paragraph- I want to be held and kissed. I love the physical connection between two people, the eyes meeting, a shared moment, the caress of finger on skin, feeling his body against mine.

I don’t miss the guy I was dating, at all. What I miss is the chance, the opportunity to share a romantic, a sexual moment with a man. I’m not going to actively search right now, but I’m open to the possibilities. There is much to do and many diversions to keep me busy; I’m not upset or depressed about the situation, I just feel the longing every now and then. I don’t want to bury the thoughts or drown them out with ‘positive’ chatter about being happy as a single woman; I like the feelings I get with a man, the intellectual challenge and the art of seduction. So for now I’m biding my time, confident that someone will appear and hopeful that I’ll know what I want, when he does.