Safe Lovin'

Consider this a PSA.

As you all know, I love to have a good time. I promote free love. I promote shedding expectations of a relationship and society's misconceptions of women and sexuality. I promote the exploration of self and strength in sexual liberation. I promote life and I promote good health. In order to attain all of these things, and maintain balance and harmony in the dating world, wrap it up! Practice safe sex folks. If you don't know how STDs/STIs are transmitted, peep this.

Condoms don't feel as good as sex without them, we know that. Now grow up. It still feels better than no sex and it damn sure feels better than Chlamydia, Gonorrhea, Syphilis and ... woa ... Intestinal Parasites are an STD??? See ... even I'm learning new things today.

So, be smart. I'm going to go shower. That Intestinal Parasite thing threw me off. Read up folks. Act smart. Use condoms, know your STDs and talk to your partner.

My mother approves this message.

Letters From Readers - Locked In Monogamy

Dear Poly,

I've recently started reading your blog and wish I had your boldness. At 40 something I am so locked (or feel that I am) into the "monogamous" relationship scenario that I spend most of my time alone. I'm an attractive African American woman. I've got nice curves and a cute face. However I seem to attract men who are attached to someone else. Not necessarily married but "attached" to someone else. I met a man who loved the hell outta me and he was perfect in every way. Ever had sex with a man that could keep you wet for hours? No exaggeration he knew how to hit it so it never dried up or got raw and I knew that if he took his socks off (LMAO) we'd be in that bed for at least 3 hours non-stop. Yep he was married. The ONLY married guy I ever got involved with. He was followed by a single guy who'd recently broken up with his girlfriend because he was soo unhappy with her. I knew I should've forced myself to see other men but I couldn't (the curse) and I got caught up and made myself available to him all the damn time and guess what...

he ain't over her and guess who now is alone? So I'm pushing to liberate myself. Get beyond the taboo of sex and sexuality and what is DATING for me. I'll keep reading and getting inspiration from you...

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If you would like to share, please send your story to: Poly.Amory00@gmail.com

Stories will be posted to the blog. Your anonymity is of the utmost importance to me. Please change all names and be respectful of others. Thanks for your contributions.

The Legend of Circle Cake

I used to have a corporate job. It was the first time I have ever worked in the sector and, hopefully, the last. It wasn't so bad. It gave me an opportunity to wear badass shoes and I got to work in a big fancy building downtown. I also got to meet Circle Cake. My dating life would not be complete without him. He was how I realized I love dumb men. Just to be fair, I love smart men too. Lewis and The Beautiful One are smart men. But, Circle Cake opened the door for good looking dumb-ass dudes. Train Guy, thank Circle Cake. He's the only reason you made it through the door. He was a pioneer for all of the dumb guys that would venture to explore these territories.

Dumb men are great. Again, I want to be fair. Dumb IS a harsh word. Everyone is smart in some area and everyone is good at something. While other guys are out reading and writing and bettering themselves through the arts, guys like Train Guy and Circle Cake are at the gym or watching porn to better their form. Like Train Guy, Circle Cake was great in bed. But, he earned the title of dumb, just as he earned the name "Circle Cake." He was the king of thoughtless statements and questions.

One day, while sitting at my desk, he approached holding a round birthday cake. He was concerned that there would not be enough cake for everyone in his department. With concern in his eyes, he asked me, "Do you think if I cut the pieces of cake into little circles, there will be more cake?" I had no idea how to answer that question. Changing the shape of the slices can't affect volume or mass, but that statement would have hurt his head. So, I just said "I don't think that will work." He walked away both sad and still a little determined.

Back Story:

Circle Cake came on with the company after I had been there for about a year. He was a legacy employee. I got my job by busting my ass and he got his because Circle Cake, Sr. knew people. But, I wasn't mad at him. He took the office by storm. He was 6'5", dark-skinned and had the wingspan of some prehistoric bird. He spent every evening after work in the gym. The older ladies in the office would watch him as he walked down the hall, then dust the lust out of their eyes and warn all us youngins against him. "He dated my friend, Lydia's daughter. He's a bit of a player." This was the wrong thing to tell me. Game recognize game. The challenge was on.

One night I was out for a friend's birthday dinner and the coworker I was currently sleeping with showed up with another woman. This was not really a big deal, just a little awkward. Then, in walked Circle Cake. He came straight to the seat next to me and asked if he could sit. Of course he could. I'm going to make a long story really short. There was an after party and dancing at a nearby club. After much flirting, Circle Cake's hand made its way up the back of my skirt and to my ass in mid-dance. I immediately thought, this isn't going to happen tonight, but it's going to happen. I am not big on drunk sex, so we exchanged numbers.

The next months were great. Circle Cake and I would meet after work. We would meet some late nights after dinners or long evening meetings. And on many occasions, we would meet in the stairwell of our building. He loved to go down on me in public and semi-public places. I had no objections. Only one person at work knew what was going on, and occasionally I had to deal with the embarrassment of him making a circular-cake-slice-statement in front of her. She would judge me for a moment, then he would smile and walk away and I would remind her that I came twice during lunch. Forget embarrassment, lunch orgasms make corporate life worth living.

On occasion, I get a text from Circle Cake and we relive old times. I no longer work with him and he has moved up in the company and has a fancy new office in a different fancy building downtown. The new office has a couch and a locking door. Semi-public, indeed...

Circle Cake, if I didn't think I would hate spending the rest of my life wrangling your big dumb kids, I would marry you and make your babies. That will never happen, but fate is funny that way.

So remember people, a (not-so) wise man once said, "if life doesn't give you enough cake ... cut it into circles?"

I Would Sooner Be Alone

When was the last time you heard of a man staying in an abusive relationship, or standing by a woman suspected of killing the man she was cheating on him with? When do you ever hear stories of men so desperate for love that they put their children in harm’s way? Though the occasional story may come out, it seems to me that women are much more likely to knowingly choose the short end of the stick and offer up a log to a man that promises love or even just a warm body to lie next to.

Yesterday I watched Ted Haggard and his wife discuss their relationship and his repeated infidelity and lies with the entire country. She said she believed he had thoughts of being with men, but that as long as he would cover those thoughts up, hide them deep inside and deny his attractions, she would stand by his side. WHAT??? Not only is she encouraging him to deny who he is, she is denying herself piece of mind and true stability. In the words of Jenny Sanford, "It's one thing to forgive adultery; it's another thing to condone it." Mistakes are made and I commend people that can work through problems. Both men and women cheat. It just seems that women have a special talent for harnessing their weakness in order to accommodate the weakness of some dude.

I just finished reading an article, in which, a man killed one girlfriend and went to New Mexico to live with another, who accepted him with open arms, even though he was suspected (and later convicted) of murder. They stay with men that beat them and their children. They forgive husbands that pose as evangelical leaders, while sneaking out at night to have sex with men and do crystal meth. It seems women fall victim to manipulation and flattery. Why do women (seemingly) become weak and feeble minded in the face of prospective love and companionship?

I am in no way trying to say that all women are capable of falling victim to the possibility of companionship, nor do I write this to further victimize victims, but instead to ask, “when will women stop taking part in their own victimization?” I am really tired of seeing women make terrible decisions in the wake of love. I would sooner be alone.

It's a Numbers Game

Lynn has an answer for everything. When asked how many men she's been with, her answer is "I can count them on one hand." Of course, she doesn't say how many times she has to count that one hand, but she can count 'em on one hand alright, because it's divisible by 5.

When I asked The Beautiful One how many women he had been with he gave a quick and proud "Over 200" as his answer. His answer made me question my apprehension in sharing my number. It was easily less than a sixth of his conquests, but I was still a bit concerned. I don't normally ask men this information. God forbid they ask me in return. The conversation came up because he was intrigued by my openness around sex and I am pretty sure he wanted to hear tales of me with other men. He wanted to hear a big number. Yet, I still hesitated for fear of being judged. Yes, I too fear judgment. Everyone does.

Telling someone my number has always felt equivalent to getting a pelvic exam. It's a very personal bit of information. This quantitative divulgence is a perfect example of the gender bias fucked-up-ed-ness in sexuality. When it comes to sexual liberation, we were not all created equal. Some of us were born with vaginas, some with penises and a lucky few with both. Those born with penises are allowed to live life as one person. They are allowed to be the guy that had many conquests and eventually picked some lucky lady to be The One. The woman should feel lucky that of all those women, she was the one he wanted. Those born with vaginas are allowed to have sex, but they are not allowed to live as one person. They should be a ho in the sheets and a lady in the streets: Be sexual beings, but keep that shit under wraps, lest you embarrass the man that chooses you or scare him away before he even gets to realize you are The One.

I have a fear of that number. As I write, I am not sure if I am going to give that information away today. I tell my friends. When it comes up in conversation, I share it, but I still don't tell my partners unless it is clear that they are cool with knowing regardless of what the number is. And even then, I am apprehensive. I have been a victim to the okie-doke, told my number and then faced the wrath of judgment, post-coitus, of course. If the guy is not going to give it up, because he dislikes my answer, for whatever reason, I don't share that info. If the conversation gets too intense and won't go away, on occasion, in the past, I would lie. I will not lie anymore. If they want to know, they are going to know and it can be on them to deal with the answer.

After discussing this post with a guy I am currently sleeping with, I am not going to divulge my number. He was honest enough to tell me that he wasn't sure he was ready to know. I respect that. He reads this blog and he has always been open and nonjudgmental. We are all dealing with breaking the societal ties that bind. At least, he and I have started a new dialogue that we can both use to learn more about our selves and each other.

Dick Lingo By Dicky

This evening, I found myself in a NorthSide dive bar. My friend, Maria and I frequent these spots, as they are close to our parents' homes. So, I am in this dive bar attempting conversation over the country music and cigarette smoke. (Yes... outside of the Houston city limits, you can still smoke indoors. Disgusting.) We were there to celebrate the marriage of her brother and his new wife. The conversation was mainly about conflicts that had occurred between brides' maids and other family. No one was comfortable with the conversation at hand. Being the natural hostess that I am, I decide to take the conversation to a place where everyone could just relax and join in. "Have any of you had anal sex? I am thinking about trying it." Just as I thought, everyone had advice. The Bride told me to only do it if I had "Gun Oil" lubricant. Maria said I should only do it if I plan to be on top so that I can "control the rhythm" and "do it at my pace". Then, Dicky laid his wisdom on the group. "Only do it if the man is packing no more than a 'pecker.'" What?

Dicky then laid out the "Dick Lingo." This was the terminology that goes along with dick sizes. As this was the first time I have heard this, I assume it will be the first time for many of you, as well. Enjoy.

We start with the "Schlong." This is the biggest dick known to man and womankind. You never agree to let a Schlong-packing man enter through the exit. Never.

Then we move on to the "Cock." This is a big big mufuckah. He goes into the category with "Dick" bearers. You only let these guys in the ass if you really really love them. If you care about them and its a special circumstance, like they might be dying, you can consider it.

If you are just curious, you start at the "Penis." This is an average size. It's moderate. It fits with those that use the term. I never say penis. It's always a dick or a cock for me. Draw your own conclusions.

Dicky claimed to be the perfect anal partner. He is packing a "Pecker." It's nothing to brag about, but it won't hurt much and it's pretty much only good for anal or women under 4'7".

Then, there is the "Wiener"/"Ding-A-Ling." There is no need to draw any distinction at this point. You would never know the difference. You may not even know he is in "the room." This is a step up from a finger. Maybe.

So, if you are like me and you haven't ventured into the back yard, you might find Maria, Dicky and the Bride's advice useful.

The Beautiful One ... Continued

I slid into the passenger seat and that was the end of the awkwardness. He was gorgeous. And .. he was cute. The gorgeous part refers to the physical alone, but the cute part was about him. His smile was slight and he was quiet. That sounds creepy. He wasn't creepy. He seemed a little nervous. Maybe it was still a little awkward, but I was relieved.

The rest of the night was relaxed. We got back to his place and he invited me to chill in his room with him. He had a nice place, a cute dog (a little bit possessive, but cute) and a comfortable bed. He showed me some pics of himself and declined my request to take nudes of him. It was worth a try. I do it for the art. He claimed to not like his body; actually calling it 'shit.' Trust me, this body is anything but shit. I am not sure if he was being coy or if he really sees something different than I do. The reality is he's 5 inches shorter than God and his entire body is beautiful.

The night progressed and we finally made physical contact. I was glad that we didn't jump right to the sex. It made the experience more organic. We didn't kiss. I did, however, relocate to the couch in his bedroom. I motioned for him to stand in front of me. He came over and I gave him head. He was very complimentary. He jokingly asked if I could write down instructions on what I was doing with my mouth. I just pictured him pulling the folded instructions with a diagram from his pocket and handing it to a his next partner. "I have guidelines."

Afterward, we sat up on his bed and listened to music. We talked about random things and some not so random: sex, online dating, etc. He stole some of the music from my computer, complimented my taste and clowned me on the fact that I had a playlist titled "Sex Playlist." He had never heard of J Dilla, so I had to take a moment to school him on some of my favorites.

We joked about the fact that I don't like to snuggle. The truth is I don't like to snuggle with someone that I don't care about. And I didn't care about this guy anymore than one cares about their fellow man. Then, as I was kissing his stomach and enjoying his next to perfect body, I realized he wasn't a bad guy and this had actually been a pretty cool night. It was easier than I had imagined. He was respectful and funny. Neither of us wanted a relationship and we had similar likes and dislikes, other than the ones we had discussed: I like to give head ... he, of course, likes to get head. Neither of us wanted to kiss. We both reserve kissing for something that involves feelings.

On the list of similiar likes, sex. We both wanted to have sex; So we did. (That last sentence could be considered the thesis of this entire post.) He seemed equally as vested in getting me off as he was in getting off himself. I find this to be the norm now that I am older. When I was young, this was not the case. After we had both cum, he brought me a warm towel and got dressed.

Mission accomplished. Now it was time to figure out where we went from there. Instead of having an awkward moment, we quickly discussed whether I was going to stay the night and catch the bus in the morning or whether he was going to drive me home that night. We quickly established that I wanted to go home and he wanted to take me home. Sleeping in someone's bed goes along with snuggling and kissing. It can be fun and it's not strictly reserved for men I have feelings for, but it's kinda got to be the perfect storm.

This was the most casual sex I have ever had. It wasn't just casual because we met, had sex and never spoke again. The truth is, we talk. He reads this blog. It was casual, because we were honest and wanted the same things. It was casual because we were safe and relaxed. We will never fall in love or be 'together', but I might consider taking him on as a regular. We'll see...