The Co-Worker

It just occurred to me that I have yet to write about The Co-Worker. He's actually The ExCo-Worker, but I don't really like the way that looks. Anyway, we worked together at the same corporate job at which I met Circle Cake. If you don't know, corporate jobs are a plethora of lay-able guys. It was the best part of that job. Actually, it was probably the only good part of that job. But, I digress.

The Co-Worker was funny and charming. Not the best looking guy I have ever dated, but I wasn't dating him. We were friends. We were the hot topic among the water cooler assholes, but we were safe. We weren't sleeping together. We never kissed, never held hands. Nothing. We really were just friends. But we had chemistry and everyone used to swear that we were either fuckin' or he was in love with me. The former was not the case. As for the latter, I can neither confirm nor deny this accusation.

There was one night at a bar we frequented after work. He and I got pretty comfortable. We both like to dance, so we were frequently dance partners. On that particular night, we took the chemistry off the dance floor and back to the table. The table was surrounded by a lounge-style couch and he and I got a little cozy in the corner. There was no kissing, but there was a little snuggling and I think we might have even held hands. It was comfortable. We were friends, after all.

Fast-forward a few years, to the begin. I was no longer at the job. I moved across the country, but we kept in touch. Every time I would visit, I would call him or show up at his job to say hi. This time was no different. He came out and met me at a bar one night and it happened. I realized how attracted I was to him. I hadn't really noticed it when I saw him every day, but this time was different. I wanted him. But, nothing happened that night. We just had a couple drinks and talked about old times while I stared at the veins in his forearms. I have a thing for arms. Don't know if I've mentioned that.

A few weeks later, some friends and I were out on a girl's night. As the night wound down, all of my friends and I all started getting texts and the head aimed at cell phone position was a sure fire sign that the booty call portion of the night had begun. Turned out we all had somewhere to go. One of my friends, Georgia was going to be leaving with the dj, but in order to cut out standing around and waiting for him to wrap things up and pack his shit, we decided to hit another bar until he texted. The other two ladies said their goodnights and headed off to meet the two lucky guys. Georgia and I hit a college bar on the nearby campus.

The bar was a ghost town. Georgia joked about the excellent male to female ratio, as there were 4 men to the 2 of us. I was dealing with pretty good odds all around. I had actually gotten two texts that night. One was from Circle Cake and the other was from The Co-Worker. A quiet bar gave me a chance to think about my options and run them by Georgia. Circle Cake would have been the easy pick. He was made for booty calls. All sex, no emotion. But, I wasn't really in the mood for easy, so I was entertaining the idea of meeting up with The Co-Worker. Georgia and I had a lot of laughs as we closed the vacant college bar. Then she drove me home. As I put the key into the door, I still wasn't sure where I would go.

That night, I would prove a lot of people right and bring a lot of (once false) rumors into the light of truth ...

Scared Smart

I am not a fan of acquaintances that get too familiar. I don't think being polite to you should merit your unsolicited criticisms or observations. However, I do have one of these acquaintances. I have a few, but this story only requires that I tell you about one. The other day, said acquaintance told me that she thought that I was 'scared' and that is why I didn't want a relationship. For her, 'scared' connotes weakness, an unwillingness to be daring or take risks. I do not see it that way. I think I am taking a risk by ending my search for a 'special someone.' It seems as though it's a risk either way, because you never know what you might be losing on the other side. So, who's not a little scared.

Truth is maybe she is right. I got hit by a car a few years back and you better believe my ass is scared to cross a street without looking. I have had bad relationship experiences. So, am I crazy to decide that I don't like getting hit by cars. No, I don't want to keep trying until I find the car that hurts least. I am just going to be more cautious. This is not a phobia. It's not irrational. It's actually pretty well thought out. The person that keeps stepping out into traffic might want to take another look at their actions and stop focusing so hard on mine. See, while you were staring at me, another car just hit you.

I have nothing against relationships. I don't fault people that are in them. I wish the best for everyone, but I don't want one. I thought I did for a long time. I was all about looking for that "one." I would meet a guy, sleep with him and then start trying to make him the one for me. It was this race that I really wasn't that into. Yet, failure always made me feel bad. The guys that wanted me right off always hit a brick wall. I was never into that. Never wanted it easy. It was the chase that I wanted. So many people do.

I looked around one day and I saw my friends all running. Running for careers, running for relationships. All in a race to the end. Looking for that final thing that was going to make them happy: the perfect career, the nicest house, the newest T.V., a spouse. Once we attained the these things, once we reached the next finish line in an infinite race, then we would be happy. Okay, let's note ... for some people, relationships come easy... They meet someone they get married and all is well... I am not talking about those people. I am talking about the people running ... My friends that just kept running ... Me. I had to stop running. I slowed my pace. And, slowly, I backed out of the race. There are also some people that are happy just to be racing. I am not talking about them either. I wasn't happy to be racing. I don't even like running like that. I am scared of running. I just need to take a minute to have fun and be happy with my friends, my family and myself ... oh and all the guys I'm dating.

So yes, I am scared. I am scared of putting time and energy into a pursuit that might not offer a return. I am scared of wrapping my life's value and my happiness up in the hopes of a relationship. I am scared of putting my self-worth in the hands of another person or needing validation. I am learning how to give myself those things and how to find happiness in me. As far as a relationship, I never say never. But, If it's going to happen, it will just have to happen. I will have to be swept off my feet, hit with a ton of bricks. Because, I will not be out putting my time and energy into searching for it. And I won't hang my happiness in the balance. I am happy now. Someone will have to offer a whole lot for me to want to stop dating and "settle down." And if this very hypothetical man hopes to stick around, he'd better bring the heat in the sack.

Letters From Readers - My Life Without an Orgasm

I addressed this letter in my last blog post, titled Missing: The Female Orgasm. I don't have much more to say. I just thought it was important for the readers of this blog to get a different perspective and see that nothing is the norm when it comes to a woman's sexuality. Hopefully, there are women who can find comfort in knowing that there are other women dealing with the same issues they are. I would like to thank all of the readers that share their stories with us. It's bold and it's appreciated.

Dear Poly,

I come from a religious background, in which I am currently struggling. It's "bad" to have sex outside of marriage and, overall, I understand the reasoning behind it. Unfortunately, it hasn't bothered me as much lately.

Let me provide you with a little history. My parents marriage sucks, to say the least. Mom calls me constantly bitching about dad. Now, do you think that has me ever wanting to get married? HELL NO! So, since I love to be intimate and I never want to get married, might as
well have fun, right?

I lost my virginity to Boy (I don't believe in men...LOL) "B" when I was 25 or so. It just kinda happened. He lived with a roommate and I for a little bit but we didn't mess around until afterwards. Frankly, he was small and it was all about him. In some ways, that was good
because I shouldn't have been "doing it" anyways (this was back when I was more of a "goody two shoes"). This whole fiasco turned into a lot of wasted money at bars, on cigarrettes, on hotels and all because he didn't have a job. Talk about loser! I got more out of performing oral sex on him than anything and that usually happened in the car.

He went down on me once and no more. I betcha that would get me to orgasm! It's hard to squeeze down on a floorboard when you're nearly 6-feet tall!

A year or so later, maybe less, I made the mistake of getting in a
conversation with Boy "J" and indicated that I have never had an orgasm. I was raised very openly about sex. If I had a question, I asked and got a honest answer. I am grateful for that but also can now see where it was not so much a good thing because talking about sex with boys leads to, well, sex. Anywho, so this guy pretty much laid me out on the couch of his RV trailer (another winner, right?) and I was floored. The fact that it was so sudden turned me on more

than the rest of the experience. I had never seen anything that big before and don't think I ever will! However, again, it was all about him. We had another occurrence the next weekend. Why? Because he asked me that day how "it" was. I didn't know what he was referring to and he said that I had an orgasm. I told him that I clearly did not because, from what I've heard, I will know. So, he took it as another challenge.

On a first date with Boy "J," we got naked on my bed and didn't go anywhere. I told him no. We hadn't even kissed and I feel that's something that's crucial for arousal. He was probably a bad kisser anyways...LOL Today, because my hormones are raging, I texted him a fairly general text and expected the answer I got. He simply said,

“Buy condoms and I will be over after work.” WHOA! I was surely not expecting that, especially from someone who was supposed to have the same religious “standards” that I “do.” I chose not to take him up on the offer because, unfortunately, it’s that time of the month.
Another reason, which may be dumb, is because I don’t want to keep adding to my “number.” Is that dumb? Probably…..

Then I reconnected with Boy "K" from high school. That was a mistake but, damn, a good one! This guy had an amazing dick and knew how to work it SO well. I am now addicted to him and would love to be "fuck buddies" on a regular basis. I would think nothing of it, as my view of religion has been skewed for various other reasons. Lately, I have been insecure b/c we haven't been talking like we used to. He compliments me and I love it. It makes me want to go back for more. Nothing like a little reassurance, right? The first instance is where I performed oral sex in the shower and, let's just say, he was blown away (no pun intended, of course). The next time was 3 weeks ago where he went deep inside of me and I was SO SO SO close to orgasming but couldn't bring myself to do it. It's like I am scared of "letting it go." Maybe it's embarrassment? Maybe it's just insecurity? Who the hell knows but, damn, if I want to have my first orgasm with anyone, it's Boy "K." We emailed back and forth today and I expressed my concern that we don’t talk like we did a short while ago. He responded with, “It’s cool. Just chill. Soon I’ll tear yo ass up again. And, I’ll give ‘ya instructions on riding.” DAMN, talk about reassurance. It just can’t happen soon enough. Riding is something I have never done but, with him, I am willing to experiment. I would LOVE for him to be my teacher. Can you tell I am damn horny today?

Four days later, I met up with this guy I have been seriously talking to and pretty much had sex in his office, as he was pulling a "all nighter" at work. I was uncomfortable in that environment so maybe that's why it wasn't as pleasurable. Who knows but I would be willing to give it another shot. That is only if stupid dumbass ex-girlfriend didn't come into the picture.

Anyways, long story short, I am 31 and have never orgasm'ed. I SO want to with Boy "K" as he is freaking amazing and he gets me going without even being here. Wow! He's got it all going on and, damn it's all good, from the kissing to the deep penetration. I'm not sure it gets any better than that - WOW!I, as well, have insecurities and am addicted to Boy "K" (AKA Anyone that damn good) but, at this point spiritually, I am perfectly fine with that. My thoery right now is "Let It Roar." I just don't care. It's fun and I love it!

How did I know I was close to orgasm’ing? First of all, I felt like I was going to pee and wasn’t sure if that was “normal” (yes, I am naïve in this area). I asked a friend or two and they said that is normal. Whew! I didn’t want to “pee” on him but, now I know, bring it on,
babe, bring it on!

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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.

Missing: The Female Orgasm - Reward Offered

Ok, so I conquered that whole insecurity thing (glad that was short-lived) and I am back to my confident, know-it-all self. I took a day off from writing, because I felt like anything I wrote would be reactionary and laced with PMS. For the return, I felt it best to talk about something that makes me very happy. And, nothing makes me happier than cumming. Hope you enjoy my tale of The Day I Met My Orgasm: A love story in two parts.

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I recently got a letter, in which, the author talked about how she had not had an orgasm. She is 31 and she lost her virginity at 25. That's 6 years of (off and on) sex and no orgasms. I wondered how this could be. Fruitless sex seems believable enough, but the idea of never cumming during masturbation was a mystery I could ponder for hours. And I did. Here are the Spark Notes...

I remember my first orgasm like it was yesterday. I was 17 and my first boyfriend and I had just started having sex. We negotiated our way through most of our sexual experiences. We had decided that we would lose our virginity together. We were both excited, probably overly so. And so, one night at a party, we snuck off to a dark part of the yard and without saying anything, without making-out or talking, without negotiating our way through it, he told me to lay down on my back, he lifted my dress and he went down on me. This was my first sexual contact. I didn't let him do it long. I was embarrassed and scared that we would be caught.

But later that night, in a laundry closet, I laid him down and got on top of him. I pulled a condom out of a small pocket in my dress and together, in a laundry closet, we lost our virginities. It wasn't what I had imagined. Of course it was awkward. It hurt a bit. There was dirty laundry next to his head. His brother walked in on us and our act was cut short. About a week later, we would finish the job on the floor of my bedroom. The bed would have made too much noise.

Soon after, we started working on making me cum. We tried a lot of different positions and we had a lot of discussions. We were both nerds. This wasn't just a matter of me getting sexual gratification, it had become a project. We were determined to get me off. God bless this boy's tenacity. He was a go-getter, indeed. So, one summer day in 1998, on my couch, while watching Terry Gilliam's Brasil, I had my first orgasm. It was vaginal and it was unreal. I had wondered if I had had one before, but all of a sudden, I realized there was no way. You know it when you have one. There was a strange feeling of familiarity that made me think I had had orgasms in dreams before. That probably deserves a post all its own. Either way, I had never had one in my waking life until this point and all at once the world was right.

Poor guy. After that, I always had sex with a goal. I wasn't very good at it yet. I was still learning, but I always wanted to cum. So I clumsily fumbled through the act until I stummbled upon the right spot and, ope, there it was. It was easy enough for him, he was a 17 year old boy. It took more work for me, but I always got there. I blush when I think of how sloppy and uncoordinated we both were. But we were learning and having fun.

I think this was key for me. Ever since my first partner, I have made it a point to develop and nurture a comfort level with all of my partners. No matter how long-term or brief our encounter, we are always learning and always having fun. I might not be best friends with them, but at the very least, we are partners in sex, and I have a special place in my heart and mind for guys that gain access to my body. And once they have gained said access, they have a job to do and a responsibility to fulfill. Unless its a pre-negotiated 'quickie,' they need to put in work.

I also have a close relationship with my body. As I have said in the past, I can almost always reach the promised land. At times, I get started in my self seduction, only to realize I am not feeling it. In these cases I usually give up the task pretty quickly and settle in with a book or bypass all other things to go straight to sleep. If I am overly tired or stressed, I don't even bother. Sometimes, masturbating serves to relieve stress and other times, I can't get out of my head long enough to climax. For more of my personal masturbation routine, click here.

For me, an orgasm requires the perfect mix of comfort and tension. You have to be relaxed enough with your partner and with yourself to be able to let go and essentially make an ass of yourself. You tense up. You make funny faces. You claw at the bed, couch, floor or back seat. You moan; You yell. A lot of times I feel like I have just made a fool of myself and then my partner cums and I realize that whatever just happened, it must have been pretty damned hot. I don't like to generalize, but from my experience, every single sexually active straight man alive enjoys making a woman cum. It's just naturally in them to want to please, because for that moment in time, it makes them feel like they are the best man alive, like no one can make you feel as good as they can. For the most part, that is true. At the moment of orgasm and for the time immediately following, I have an actual physical high and I feel a kinship with the person that helped me get there. This is not to be mistaken for love. Reference - Train Guy.

The more I thought about this reader's sexual history, the more clarification I needed. I called on friends and found out that some of them hadn't ever had a vaginal orgasm, others had never cum with a partner and others hadn't cum with a partner in a very long time. Some had only recently experienced an orgasm with another person and others could only cum while standing on their heads. Okay, not so much the last one. But, you get the idea. A relationship that a woman has with her orgasm is personal and complex. For some, it is simpler and for others it takes a little more effort.

I could give advice, but that's not really my thing. Personally, I clench my hips and ass in tight when I am on top. When I am on bottom, I elevate my hips and tilt my pelvis, pushing into him with all my force. Sometimes, they do all the work and I just lay back and try not to fall in love. But I don't think these details are the ones keeping women from their orgasms. The physical details may help, but I think it is deeper than that. Men know why they are having sex. They are having sex to feel good. They are having sex to cum. Women are and have since birth been taught that sex should be about more. That you should save yourself. That you should only have sex when you love someone. We are made to feel cheap if we just 'give it away' to anyone. Meanwhile no one tells us what we should be getting in return. Satisfaction. That is what we should be getting. Real physical gratification. We aren't pin cushions for a man's enjoyment. We have a natural sexuality and we naturally want to cum. We get aroused. We get wet. We tighten up around a man. We pulsate and we want to cum.

So, I am telling you today. Sex isn't about more. Just wipe that from your minds. It can be about more and when it is, it's beautiful. But, for now ... in this moment ... I need you to close your eyes and remember one thing. Sex is about feeling good; Feeling good in all kinds of ways. It's about health and happiness. It won't make your life complete, but it should be something you enjoy doing. If you are going to have sex, you might as well get every bit of pleasure from it that your partner does. It's not just your responsibility. You are helping them get off, and they need to be helping you. So, the next time you are about to get intimate with a man, tell him if you have trouble cumming ... tell him if you have never orgasmed. Stop faking it. He will take it as a challenge and he might just be the person that introduces you to your orgasm.

If you aren't comfortable talking about sex just yet, then you need to take on the challenge yourself. Call in sick to work. Lay down on your back, turn on some porn or envision the hottest things your brain can imagine, form your index and middle fingers into a 'come here' cupping position, place the pads of those fingers on your clit and slide them into your vagina. Feel for a ridge at the opening underside of your pelvic bone and find the rough, or less smooth, patch of skin. Apply pressure and massage firmly. Use your other hand to slowly and deliberately rub your clit. Move your fingers in a 'come hither' motion and just play with this area until you feel it. I don't know how to describe it, but it's the beginning of your path to orgasm. Your body knows how to explain it and if you shut out all the outside noise, forget everyone's misconceptions about women's sexuality and allow it, your body will tell you where to go. Just relax, listen and cum.

Vulnerability

I appreciate all of the people that take time out of their day to browse the contents of my brain. I have such a varied readership and everyone takes something different away from the things I write. I would be crazy to think that everyone reads the blog for exactly the same reason I write it. I write it to share my experiences and to show that a woman can be sexually charged, sexually liberated and confident without the constant reassurance and validation of a man, a relationship or a steady partner. I wanted to share my journey away from relationship goals and codependence and into self assurance and independence. Ideally, every person that read this would be empowered to find their own confidence, have inner dialogues, act and make decisions based on what they really need and want from life, instead of letting others tell them what they should do and how they should feel.

The truth is, everyone reads for a different reason. Some people read it because they have lived within the confines of gender roles and societal constraints and it is refreshing to see someone deviate from the norm. Some people find it inspiring. Some read it for a cheap thrill. Some read it to judge. Some read it to learn. I didn't start this blog to be a part of some stranger's fantasy. It's not my purpose, but I can't control it. I don't need it, but if someone else does, who am I to say it's wrong?

At first, men leaving comments saying "God bless you" and "Thank you" were unsettling. They felt different than the comments from women saying the same thing, but I had to get past that. I can write for whatever reason I want, but it's not my place to pass judgments on why people read what I write. I have checked myself and put my sideways glances in my back pocket. I want everyone to read for whatever reason they need to read. My one request is that people realize when I write about trying anal sex or contemplating a threesome, those are MY decisions and not to be used to tell other women how they should or should not feel or act. That is the antithesis of what I am trying to do here. So men and women, if you ever tell a woman to do it because Poly did it or insinuate anything close, I will hunt you down and punch you in the nuts. Don't do it. But please keep reading and know I love all my readers. Even the ones that judge me.

This all spawned from the temporary low in which I currently find myself. I have had to sort through a lot of feelings in the past few days. Along with the fan mail from a 19 year old guy in Canada and a 30 year old woman in Nigeria, I have also received a fair amount of hate and judgment; not only from anonymous sources, but from people I care about. And last night, in the depths of PMS and insecurity, while sitting on Lewis' couch, I started to cry. I cried hard. A single question entered my mind, "Am I worthy of love?" All of society's judgments and my learned behaviors flooded me. For a span of about 30 minutes, I cried because I was wasn't confident; I wasn't empowered. For 30 minutes, I was a whore. I let it all get to me. The whole while, I hid my tears.

For a brief period, I hid in the bathroom and cried hard. I am sure he heard me, but I couldn't face him. At that moment, in my mind, he was better than me. Even when I came out of the bathroom and he was standing there, even when he pulled me close and hugged me without saying a word, I kept my head down. I couldn't bare to let him see me so weak. That is exactly what I was. I was weak and I was vulnerable. I wasn't a whore. I am not a whore. I am just a person. I have my strengths and I have my weaknesses. As good as he felt, it couldn't help. The solace I needed could only come from me. I excused myself to his room and sat quietly. In the dark and solitude, I remembered me and I blocked out the rest of the world.

Occasionally, I let other people's insecurities and judgments get to me. The truth is, when I want to have sex, I think about it, I act responsibly and I do what's best for me. If I don't want to have sex, I don't do it. I don't use sex to gain power over others or to feel better about myself. I do it because I own my sexuality and I own my body. In writing this blog, I open myself up and I put myself out there. i open myself up for ridicule, because I hope that I can take it. Most of the time, I can. Unfortunately, last night, I discovered that I do not fully own my mind, yet. Occasionally I let other people's feelings creep in; I let insecurity take over and I get scared. This is my journey. I do not claim to be made of steel, but I am working on developing a thicker skin. Thanks for supporting me. Thanks for feelin' me. And, thanks for judging me and forcing me to face and battle the judgments I pass on myself and to recognize when I'm internalizing other people's insecurities.

Not Feelin' It, Mrs. Robinson

Age is a number, indeed. It is also a level of confidence, an accumulation of experiences and, sometimes, a group of shared memories or interests.

I have found that when I am on a date with a guy 3-5 years old than I am, there is a good middle ground. Men in their early 30's tend to have a nice mix of confidence and shared experiences/interests. This is where the conversation lives. A general question about your favorite movie can turn into a discussion of memories about what movie theatre you saw the movie in, you know the one that has been closed down for 10 years, but used to have really sticky floors. Or you might find yourself in a conversation about what venues had the best shows, bars that have since passed or faded away or the 90's. There are limitless things you can discuss with someone when you have things in common. This is what we all look for in a date. A good reason to not sit and stare at our feet.

For the most part, the guys that are my age have the potential to offer the same thing. Maybe we grew up in the same part of town during the same time. Maybe we went to the same spots, liked the same restaurants, listened to the same music. If he grew up watching The Simpsons, we most likely have a similar sense of humor. If a guy is 24, he was born in 1986, 3 years before The Simpsons went into it's first season, so at best, he was 9 when the show headed south. Yeah, I said it. The Simpsons is still the best thing on TV, but it's nothing compared to its first 6 seasons. So, with any guy under 24, you find a Simpsons deficit. Even if they watched the show later in life, its not the same. There are a lot of generational and environmental factors, but The Simpsons is a pretty important one.

So, for guys under 24, the most you can hope for is some Chappelle Show quoting and some vague recollection of the 80's. The 22 year old fell into this category. It's not that he wasn't smart or witty, he just wasn't 30. There was nothing he could have really done. I knew when I left the house that it was a long shot, but I figured What the hell? and I went out with a guy that was born in 1988.

The 22 year old was a young guy on the scene. When we met, I was working and he was partying. He asked me out the week after we met and I accepted. We made plans and he picked me up. The conversation didn't flow instantly. I had some apprehension about being goofy. On the averagedate, I will give a guy the business and be my normal confident self. For some reason, I held back and just sat quietly. I felt like it was too much for him.

From the beginning of the date, I wasn't myself. The conversation was a bit forced and the fact that we went back and hung out at his place didn't help the situation. This was also my suggestion. I thought I wanted a quiet evening, but I did not take into account that we would have no distractions.

Any other time, this would have been a perfectly cool evening, but he also knew about the blog and that created some awkward conversations. This was the first time the blog had been this present on a date. Other guys have known about it, read it and been chill about it. The 22 year old had only read a few posts and it came across that he had a misunderstanding of how this evening was going to play out. I don't put any fault on anyone, maybe I was not as clear as I could have been. It started feeling a bit like certain things were expected. This might have been my misunderstanding, but either way, it was getting late. Instead of making this guy drive all the way across town, I hit up a girlfriend that was in the area and she scooped me up.

It wasn't meant as a shoot down. We had spent a few hours together and it was time for the night to close to an end. If you aren't going to make out with someone and that is where they want the evening to go, it's best to take your leave of them. So, this is what I did.

I am sure that there is some 21 or 22 year old woman out there that will find her Prince Charming in the 22 year old. He was really nice and very smart, he just wasn't born at the right time... For me, anyway.

Everybody Hates Chris - Pt 2 - The No-Tell

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