Departure - Part 3

On our first meeting, I made it known that I didn’t want to sleep with him.  I just wanted sex.  I wasn’t interested in snuggling or cuddling up to him and I didn’t want to kiss him.  He was a stranger in the emotional realm and I was so fresh out of loving someone, that I wasn’t in the mood to fake affection. 

I guess he was in the mood to challenge this or see if the earlier rules still stood.  He told me to lay back and he put his arm around me.  I was cold and he was warm as he pressed his body against mine.  I couldn’t help but breathe him in.  He was newly in love with someone else and it was almost palpable.  I could smell it on him and it smelled good.  I wanted it.  His hand slid over mine and our fingers interlocked.  Really?  We are holding hands.  Bodies intertwined, we both fell asleep.  In the night, I got up to pee and when I came back to bed, he kissed my forehead and asked if I was okay.  I felt his kiss in my stomach.  I wanted to make his children.

The affection was not faked.  I didn’t have to feign anything.  I was cold and shivered in the night and he woke me to switch sides, so I was away from the fan.  He used his warm body to block me from the fan and we fell back asleep.  As I was drifting back off, I realized that I was almost healed.  I am so much warmer than I was at the beginning of the summer.  My guard is falling slowly.  I am able to accept affection.  And, I am in a new place.  I am truly having feelings for multiple people.  I am tired of hard sex.  I like it rough some times, but I want warmth. 

He woke hard at 4am and he got on top of me and entered me.  Normally it takes me a while to get warmed up in the morning.  Not this morning.  I was wet instantly and cumming within minutes.  It was  intense, hard and amazing.  After I had finished, he slowed his pace and pulled out of me, still hard.  He smacked me on the thigh and said “That’s all we have time for.  I could go all morning and we have to get you to the airport.  All’s fair.  I came and now, you came too.”  Are you serious?  He just got up and got dressed and I laid there in shock. 

He gave me an orgasm and got me to the airport on time.  He unloaded my bags at the curbside check-in and gave me a hug.  “Keep in touch, okay?”  Damn straight I will keep in touch. I’m not in love with The Beautiful One, but damn.  I have to say I have spent the majority of this flight imagining more nights like the one we had last night.  So, with my head and the rest of me in the clouds somewhere over the Midwest, I am embracing change.  I am leaving Houston a different person than I came into it.  I’m not ready or willing to be in a relationship, but we can cuddle … ?

When my plane touched down for my layover, I texted him; “If things don’t work out with ole’ girl, you have my number.” 

Departure - Part 2

He texted when he was around the corner and Lynn and I unloaded my bags from her car.  I was ready with bags on the curb when he pulled up.  Goddamn.  Seriously, I don’t know how to reiterate that the name “The Beautiful One” is not just me being cute.  This man is 6’3” if he is an inch.  Broad shoulders, fit, but not over done.  He’s light skinned , with gorgeous eyes.  Baby daddy material.  Make me consider dropping everything, even dating.  I might have strong strong feelings for another man, but at this point in my life, those feelings  hold no more weight than the power of this guy’s smile.  For now, I didn’t want to fall in love; I just wanted to fall in lust.  And this guy is perfect for that … Or, so I thought. 

We got back to his place and he put my bag down in his bedroom.  I was so tired, I took my spot on the bed, immediately and he jumped in the shower.  I was on my stomach, writing.  When he got out of the shower, he approached the bed and ran his hand along the back of my thigh and up to my ass.  He briefly let his fingers drift between my thighs.  Then, he went to turn the lights off in the rest of the house. 

He took his place next to me in bed and browsed through his cell phone as I finished up a paragraph.  We talked for a bit.  Things flowed a lot like they did they first time we had been together. 

I found it hard to resist kissing his stomach and chest.  So, I didn’t resist.  I helped myself to his body while I had this one last chance.  It was only a matter of moments before my mouth had moved below his waistline and I was kissing him lightly.  There was a thin, yet masculine trail of hair from his stomach down. He has that indention at his hipbone.  The kind that require you open your mouth wide around it and bit lightly.  I worked my way down and kissed him softly.  I eased him into my mouth and gradually filled my mouth with him.  He grew harder against the back of my throat.  His sounds along with the way he touched me in return made me wet.  My actions relayed my level of excitement.  He asked me questions like did I like it and I moaned affirmations.  I did.  I could suck his dick every day for the rest of my life.  It’s as beautiful as the rest of him.  He tasted good, so I drank him in.  After I had completed another task well done, I jokingly patted myself on the back.

By the time I had finished him off, it was midnight, and we had to get up by four to get me to the airport. I just wanted to sleep.  But, I let it be known that at any point in the night or morning, he was more than welcome to put on a condom and enter me. 

When I laid down next to him, shit got interesting…  

Departure - Part 1

So, my final night in Houston did not turn out the way I had expected.  I was going to stay in.  My mom was going to drop me at the airport on the way to work.  I was going to get some sleep. But, that wouldn't really do the last day of summer justice, so fate took over and everything changed.  All the things that were 'supposed' to happen fell by the wayside, and as per usual, I did what I wanted.

The morning of my departure, I was doing my daily internet browse and an instant message popped up.   It was not as routine as the daily messages I normally got from him.  “Hey.  When do you leave?”  I explained that I was flying out at 6am.  “You have a ride to the airport?”  My mother was going to take me.  The questions peeked my curiosity.  He didn’t usually ask questions like this without a reason.

I thought about that.  “He didn’t usually...”  What did I know from what he usually did?  The statement was funny, because I had only met him once and yet we had talked online every day for the past 2 months.  Most of our conversations revolved around my sexual experiences with other people.  There was a definite interest in the blog, but I had first slept with him before the blog’s inception.  He and I actually first brainstormed the idea of a blog together, post-coitus.  In my brief moments of ‘knowing’ him, we had co-conspired on the birth of a blog, in which, I would talk about my sexual explorations.  Past that, we knew nothing of each other.

It only took a few lines in the chat for him to ask if I wanted to spend my last night with him and he would drop me at the airport.  I had actually thought about doing this with Lewis, but he hadn’t offered, so I didn’t broach the idea.  But, this offer was very tempting.  The only hang up was that this would be my third guy in 4 days and I was dead tired.  Meh.  Tired was just one detail of what I was and one monkey don’t stop the show.  So, ride pending, I was going to spend my last night in Houston with The Beautiful One.  God is good.  

 

I texted him saying I wasn’t coming, because I was too emotional about leaving.  He said he understood, but I should consider crying on his shoulder.  That was it.  I was going.  I said my goodbyes to my family and Lynn picked my up from my folk’s house.  He had agreed to pick me up from Lynn’s place at 10. 

Last "Official Date" Of The Summer

I went on my last official date of the summer.  Since we had such good luck on the real date front, I decided that going on my last date with Todd would be a pretty dope decision.  I was right.

There isn't a whole lot to say about it.  He was amazing.  He picked my up with two slushies from Sonic and a bottle of Ciroc.  Homemade hurricanes.  Actually, hotel made hurricanes.  Yep.  There was another hotel.  This time, it was a bit different.  We exited the freeway in a very swanky part of town and pulled in to the parking lot.  Not exactly the hourlie situated between two strip clubs.  We were taking it up a notch.  He went in and checked in and then we parked.

The room was beautiful.  I was like a kid in a candy store. It wasn't the money spent on the hotel.  The fact that it was really nice was wonderful.  The bed was comfortable and the shower was great.  But, that wasn't it.  I remembered how wonderful our time was in the hourlie.  We got along so well and it didn't matter where we were.  The idea that he went through the trouble and effort is what made me happy.  It was that he had listened to me and knew the things I wanted.  He delivers them to me as gifts and my happiness means something to him.  Whether it's him wanting me to have a hood drink before I go back to white bread New England, or making me a Sonic Hurricane in one of the nicest hotels in town, he does it for me.

After we had sex in the hotel, we headed out and had sushi, then we headed to a local arcade and played pinball until 2 in the morning.  It was great.  He's competitive and it was playful.  I don't know how to thank him for making me feel the way he makes me feel.  I hope he comes to visit and that we can get to know each other better.  That's all I really have to say about Todd.  He's someone I want to know better and spend more time with.

My Final Night In Houston

Nice To Meet You Love. You Look Nothing Like Your Pictures.

I had my 'last' night with Lewis before heading back to New England.  But, we didn't say 'goodbye,' we said 'later.' In the end, the summer romance that I had longed for was a complete success.  I got to experience romance and the freedom that comes with just enjoying someone and getting to know them, while not having expectations or limitations.  My time with Lewis was definitely my heaviest and lightest experience of the summer.

Love is Separate From Monogamy. Duh.

This has been a hard concept for me.  As I have said, it has been hard for me to decipher exactly what I am feeling for Lewis.  I realized this is pretty common for me, the only difference is I am not bringing someone else into my confusion.  I needed to figure this out on my own.  This is what I got.

I don't want Lewis to drop everything and love me.  I don't want some romantic grand gesture.  I want him to keep grinding and doing the things that he loves, because that is what makes him the man that he is.  I want him to send me silly texts every once in a while.  I don't want him to want to spend his life with me and I don't want to spend my life with him.  I got really confused when trying to write this.  The primary source was all jumbled, so I went to the secondary source.  I hit him up and we had a conversation.  It was effortless.  And that is it.  He is effortless for me.  He was there.  He was honest and he was easy.  After talking with him, I was even more clear.  Can I get an "Amen!" for a man that doesn't confuse me?

So, here it is.  I love Lewis.  I would be an asshole and a liar to say that I don't.  And it's not in the way that I have love for everyone.  It's very specific.  It's very much a love that I only have for him.  I love what he did to my life.  And it doesn't matter if he says the same or feels the same way, because it's about what he gave, not what he says or promises.  I don't need promises or words.  He gave me support, friendship and love. And, he gave it to me as I was.  This was the first time, ever, that I dealt with a man as me, without a front.  He knew the good, he knew the bad and he still drove across town to pick me up, because it was ME that he wanted.

This summer, I have been Me Raw, unrefined, no bleaches or preservatives added. And this is the important part.  This experience with Lewis taught me that the best me is just me.  I don't have to hide anything.  I don't have to compromise who I am.  I don't have to sugar coat my feelings or hide them.  I just have to be respectful and caring.  We did what I wanted to do. This romance was an introduction to what healthy relations between two adults can be.  He proved to me that it could be done.  You can have someone that just makes your life better.  I didn't lose myself in him and he didn't lose himself in me.  We found comedy and strength in each other and we supported each other.  I want lovers that enhance my life, not ones that over take it.  Romance as I knew it is dead.  This shit right here is the real.  It's practical and it's passionate all at once.

But, as I promised you guys, this isn't going to be the tale of the woman that went off alone to find herself and in her journey found a man.  I simply came across a man that helped me realize I don't need a relationship, but I do need the occasional dose of love.  So, I will continue on my journey. That's not the end of things with Lewis and me.  We will still talk.  We will continue to encourage each other and we will be friends for a long time.  This was passion at the next level.  Lewis and I turned it up to 11.  It wasn't this fire that burned hard and fast.  It wasn't a short lived romance.  This was a foundation.  It was the foundation of a great friendship and the foundation of my new way of life.

Honesty kills apprehension, it forces you to be okay with yourself and it will set you free.  Honesty forces you to really see yourself.  When you are forced to defend your actions, you have to really look at yourself and see if the things that you are doing are really okay with you.  It might hurt like hell, at first.  You might bury your face in a lot of pillows and cower under covers, but in the end, when you walk down the street or sit in your room, you do it with your head held high, because you know that the people who love you really love and accept all of you, not some picture you have painted to try to get approval, love or respect.  So, in conclusion, I would like to thank myself.  Thank you, me.  Thank you for being honest with a man and with yourself and figuring out that honesty is, in fact, the best policy.

Ask Him Out -- Today

The following is a repost from New Shoes, or: How Men Really Think

______________________________________________________________

It's always funny to me the light hypocrisy of women asserting that they're strong, independent, intelligent, beautiful, etc., and then in the same breath declaring that they could never ask a man out on a date.

You don't want a man who's a coward, but...

I get it.  Women are sensitive.  "If he says no, it could mean I'm not attractive enough, not interesting enough, not charming enough."  Maybe... or it could mean that he simply wasn't the one.  On to the next one.

If there's a guy out there you like, ask him out.  Be firm with him; it's what men respond to.  Once you know he's free, be like, "Let's meet up at ________ and have drinks.  Say, seven-thirty?"  The first sentence is declarative, more assertive (which modern young woman claim to be).  The second leaves room for his involvement and mutual negotiation about the event.

If he says no then he says no.  If you're not full of shit with the things you say to intimidate other men -- "I'm too much woman for most of you to handle" -- then you'll simply assess this man as one who wasn't ready for you.  Avoiding asking a man out because you're scared is the ultimate self-betrayal.  Who can you blame when it's you cheating yourself?

Making the What? Continued

There I was, flat on my back with one of my best friends easing his fingers into me.  The season finale of Making the Band had just started.  We had waited all this time and now we were just going to miss it.  Oh well.  I would just listen as he kissed my neck and slowly graduated up to two fingers.  Yeah right ... at this point, I could have cared less about what the fuck P Diddy or anyone else had to say.  I had even shut off the voice in my own head.  He was all I could hear, feel, smell or taste.  At some point, we had done away with his pants and I had gotten on top of him.  He sat up, I took him in my hand and I leaned down and lightly kissed him.  I needed more.

We slipped off the couch and onto the floor and he quickly excused himself.  This was routine.  There was no doubt in my mind.  He was going to get a condom.  He returned quickly, got everything into place and parted my legs.  He was big.  Not just like average big, he was big.  He filled me and then some.  I was thrilled by him.  Literally.  I was a little scared that he could hurt me.  I was excited that I knew him and trusted him.  I was comfortable and uncomfortable at the same time.  Just then, I realized I had never not wanted this.  I had pushed it into the back of my mind, painted friend across his face, but once I looked past the Sean I had created, it was just him.

He turned me over and entered me from behind.  He felt so good.  After a few moments, I heard it. Oops.  We had lost a condom.  It couldn't withstand the pressure.  He pulled out of me fast and went to get another.  Ope ... if you are the kind of person that enjoys playing really cruel tricks on people, you probably guessed what happened next.  He entered the room without a condom.  That was it ... the last condom from the box lay broken on the bed.

I will spare you all the details of the rest of the night.  Never have I ever been in such a shared frustration.  He contemplated going to the store, asking a neighbor.  It was 3 or 4 am by this time and we were S.O.L.  Time to call it a night, kids.  But, we couldn't.  If he even brushed up against me I got a pain in my stomach.  I still needed more.  At one point, he got up and sat in a chair.  We needed space.  We were both in pain.  This went on for what felt like hours.  We finally fell asleep.  That night had been great and incomplete all at once.  We got all the way through the season of Making the Band and missed the finale.

When we woke in the morning, the voices of reason were back on, at full volume.  We were friends.  The lust had been replaced with exhaustion and so I got up and went home.  After that, it was a little awkward, but we got past it.  We were friends again.  I would occasionally get the urge to finish the job, but, as time went on, Sean and I grew apart and eventually he was just gone.  I moved away and we would chat every once in a while, but years have gone by and I haven't even seen him.  We don't talk at all, anymore.  I don't even know how to get in touch with him.  He's just a series of good memories.  But, sometimes, in the dark of night, as I lay down to go to bed, I close my eyes and Sean and I finish what we started.

Making the What?

We all have those friendships with members of the opposite sex that prove to be more complex and complicated then we expected.  This was one of those friendships.

I remember the first time I saw Sean.  I had just gotten a new job and he worked in the same center.  He wandered down to the office I worked in one day after 5.  He was cute.  I asked a coworker if she knew who he was.  I assumed she did, or else some dude just wandered down and copped a squat on our couch for the hell of it.  She knew him.  I didn't ask much.  I said hello to him and introduced myself, then I went home.

He would come and visit us occasionally and it didn't take long at all for the two of us to start cracking jokes.  There was one night soon after we met, when we both had a little too much to drink and got fresh in a private corner of the bar.  It was nothing really and we both brushed it off and moved on without any discomfort.  We started spending more time together.  He would come over to my place after work and we became genuine friends.  I'm not going to say that I didn't occasionally think of him in inappropriate ways, but you would be hard pressed to find one of my good-looking male friends that I haven't at least considered bedding.  Maybe it had gone a little past that.  Maybe I had contemplated what he felt like, what he tasted like, but Sean and I spent a lot of time together and I had a boyfriend, so we kept it 100% kosher.

After about a year of knowing Sean, my boyfriend (at the time) and I broke up and I began nursing a wounded heart.  We hadn't been together long, so it wasn't broken.  It was tough, but I had a lot of friends and I kept myself entertained.  Sean had become such a constant in my life, I relied on him as I would any friend during this time.  The closer we got, the farther away the lusty thoughts got.  I had almost totally succeeded in putting him in the friend zone altogether.  Sean was my homeboy.  I got frustrated with him.  He annoyed me at times.  This dude that was a stranger a year ago had become one of my closest friends.

A couple months after my break up, I went to Sean's place after being out drinking with friends.  I just didn't want to go home.  He gave me his bed and he slept on his living room floor.  At some point in the night, I was roused from my sleep.  I was groggy, but not too groggy to accept Sean onto my body and pull his face down onto mine.  We kissed and he unbuttoned his pants as I pulled my panties off.  Woa.  What were we doing? Where did this come from?  Everything felt foggy and then I heard his front door open and close.  I sat up quickly.  I was alone.  It was a dream.  Sean came in and announced that he had gotten us breakfast.  Shit.  All that time ... all that compartmentalizing ... down the drain.  Once I have a sex dream about someone, I temporarily fall into crush mode. Eck.  Not Sean.  Dammit.  He's my homeboy.

After quickly eating, I went home.  The next day, Sean asked me over to watch Making the Band.  It was the season finale, but before hand they were going to show all the episodes.  He asked if I drank wine.  SHIT!!! Of course I drink wine.  And of course I was going to go watch this reality show I had never cared about and I was going to partake of his wine.  But, I was NOT going to disrupt our friendship.  It would be a night hanging out with my boy just like any other. This night, I would have my titties all out, but that's not important. Stay focused, please.

I got there and we sat on the couch together.  We drank some wine and watched a few episodes.  Then, we drank more wine and watched almost the entire season.  As the night progressed and we got closer to finding out who was actually going to make the band ... Sean and I got closer on the couch.  I would ease closer.  At some point, his arm was around me and he was tapping my shoulder.  He asked if it was bothering me and I said it wasn't.  Then, it was like everything just swarmed.  I don't even remember how it happened, but I know for at least two episodes, Sean was on top of me, under me, but not inside of me.  It was so hot.  Never had I ever crossed this line with a close friend.  Don't brace for a wake up, people.  This was real life.  For close to an hour, we kissed, and touched.  He asked me if I was okay with what was happening, in a hot breathy voice.  I assured him that I was more than okay.  He slid his hand up my skirt and was greeted with preparation for what would come.

To Be Continued...

That's A Wrap, Houston ...

As my summer narrows to a close, I am attempting to squeeze in all the dates I can.  My calendar for this week is starting to look a lot like the Best of Summer 2010.  I figure, what better way to usher out the last summer vacation of my life.  This is my last year in school and I am going to rejoin the workforce next May.  So, might as well take it out with a bang.  Pun intended.  Soon, my life will be back to the normal grind: research papers and presentations, meetings with professors and job interviews.  Yes, I have a normal life.  I do things other than date.  They just aren't as interesting.  

But, for those of you who have been writing in, don't worry.  I will still be dating and I will still be blogging.  I write this blog not only as a way to reach out to other women and create a community for them, but as a way to feel like I am part of a community myself.  I want at least one woman to feel normal when she reads this blog, but the letters and the encouragement are making me feel normal, as well.  Never has it felt so good to be average.  I took my most shameful moments, wrapped them in humor and deliver them for your judgment, praise or indifference.  I got a little bit of everything.  I don't write under the belief that I am terribly important or that I am right in anything I say.  I just write as me, in hopes of bringing some smiles to some faces.  These aren't great stories, they aren't cutting edge.  They are cathartic and masturbatory at times.  There are nights when I am sitting alone, inside my head and all I want to do is write.  In those moments, I do it totally for me.  When people write in and ask me to talk about a certain subject, I might write for that one individual.

I am changed from this experience.  I took all of my shame and I laid it out for strangers, friends, acquaintances and lovers.  I was forced to be honest and own up to being me.  But, at the same time, I hurt some people that didn't want to acknowledge those parts of me.  For that, I am sorry, but I will not stop writing.  For me, love can no longer equate to the sacrifice of self.  I hope that no one that loves me takes on my actions as their own responsibility.  These are my actions and they in no way reflect the actions or influence of anyone else.   I have loved sex since I started having it.  I am single, because I want to have sex and spend time with more than one person.  I write this blog, in part, so that I am bound to the truth.

So, I will keep going.  I have transferred all of my online dating profiles to my New England zip code and I already have two dates lined up.  I do have to say one thing, though ... In my experience, men in the North got nothing on Texas men.  I will give the yankees a chance, but I love the men in Houston. There's no place like home.  I am going to miss you guys.  But, it's not over till its over ... and we have 6 days left together.  Let's make it count!  

Danger. Do Not Enter... or How My Ex Ruined My Day

Yesterday, it happened.  I reentered the world of relationships.  I was a girlfriend all over again.  It was not good.  It reminded me of why I left The Land of Make Believe in the first place.  Normally, I do not write about past relationships.  As I have said, this blog is about me. It's about the things I am going through.  Well, right now, I am going through some things with my ex.  So, I am changing my tune.  I will write about my past relationship and the way it keeps coming into my life, much like I imagine a herpes outbreak might.  Okay, that was harsh.  But, also much like herpes, this relationship was my doing and the aftermath is mine to deal with.  I have to take the precautions to heal and to make sure that I keep the symptoms as minimal as possible to reduce all burning and redness.

I will save the details of the relationship.  Just know, it was good when it was good and when it was bad, it was poison.  Here goes.  Like all of my other posts, this entry isn't about the man that takes the momentary lead role.  It's about me and the way I react in situations.  It's about me being a human.  I am not a maneater or a heartless dater.  I have feelings.  I fall in love. And, once upon a time, I was in a relationship.  This will be the first and the last blog entry on that relationship.  It's all you need to know.

Back Story:  It ended badly.  Then it started back up.  Then it ended badly, again.  Then it started back up.  Now, I am trying to reconcile the fact that I am, in fact, nursing a broken heart.

We were together for a long time and we slept together even longer.  Note - It is never a good idea to keep sleeping with an ex.  There are plenty of people out there to sleep with.  We dragged out the pain for much longer than we should have.  We actually only stopped sleeping together about a month ago, but our last kiss and 'talk of love' was about a week ago.  The end was less than mutual.  He started hinting that he wanted to get back together and I started slowly backing away.  We still engage in unhealthy behavior and I am every bit as guilty of it as he is. But, it is time to move on.

Yesterday, we went back in time and traveled a very familiar road.  We laughed, we cried and we talked on the phone for close to 3 hours.  I am not a fan of talking on the phone, especially when halfway through the conversation I realize I am laying in my front yard with tears welling up in my eyes.

The short story is he is in a new relationship and while trying to figure out what love is and if he is still in love with me, he ended up giving me the same laundry list of reasons it wouldn't work between us.  It felt like he was trying to convince himself more than convince me, but it still hurt my pride.  Even though I know why it won't work, I found myself defending what we had.  I found myself back in the same place.  My emotions were swelling and I was angry.  This is the kind of anger I only felt in relationships.  It's a combination of jealousy and hurt.  It's not a good look.  The truth is, we were an excellent pairing on paper, but then life happened.

Things always happen.  None of those things are the issue right now.  He's not the issue right now.  I am.  While thinking about this hard and wiping the last of my tears, I realized what the problem was.  I didn't want to lose.  He is in a relationship with a woman he started talking to while we were still together.  And, I am on the losing end.  This is never a good place to be.  You start confusing a relationship with winning.  Not the case.  I equate my current position with losing, when the truth is, the relationship itself was what lost.  I got wrapped up in old emotion and I started to forget what I really wanted in life.  I started to forget what it is that makes ME happy.

In all of the chaos of old emotion, he made the statement that they (he and his new girlfriend) are both private people.   He then made the request that I stop writing the blog.  He is embarrassed that his business is out there and she has read the blog. Cue music... I had to remind him that I am not his business.  This is my business.  And, it's out there, but maybe not as much as it should be.  I have painted myself as me, minus one big part of me...

I have been keeping this side of myself from you guys.  I was in love.  I might still be in love.  I don't know. The pain is too fresh to be able to distinguish between love and pride.  The one thing I do know is that I am not ready for a relationship again.  My ex jumped into a new relationship and I have plenty of opinions on that.  But, that is his path and this is mine.  We battle with wondering if we are still in love, because the wounds that a relationship leaves on two people are still fresh with us.  Personally, I will take my time.  After my last relationship, I need time.  It was intense and it was powerful, but we were trying to do something that wasn't right for us.  I should have bailed out a long time before it ended.  I let myself be played with and I played along in the game of make believe.  We played house and we talked about marriage and I can't do that with anyone again this soon.  Where I stand now, I don't want to do it ever again.

I am open and casual with sex, but I am not open or casual with love or relationships.  I do not think love comes easy.  I don't think it is a half-assed mix of good qualities that you settle for.  I don't really know what I think of love at this point.  I have some ideas of relationships though.  Maybe, it can't work if it's intense.  If you get the high highs when you are with someone, maybe you need to leave that person alone, because the low lows are just down the road.  Go with the person that is less exciting.  Maybe that is the way a relationship works.  Maybe you don't have the passion and the fire.  Maybe it works better if it is just more ... dull.  Or maybe there is a middle ground, a Promised Land of relationships.  We were intense, but things happened.  I guess, in the end, I would rather be the one he might still love, than the one that loves him with one foot out the door.  I played that part for too many years.  That's the trouble with relationships.  You are always settling and compromising when, in the end, it might not have been worth your time.  At any time, a person can say "this isn't right for me" and it's over.  No one has to apologize.  No one is wrong.  Things just change.  For this reason, I think relationships almost require a certain level of dishonesty.

As of now, I am not interested in that.  I am not interested in the ups and downs of a relationship, or the mundane day to day that comes along with settling down.  If I find someone that sweeps me off my feet or hits me like a ton of bricks, I might change my tune.  But, for now, I will be the girl that is open to sex, open to love and turned off by relationships.  I respect people that have them and I respect a successful one, but I don't think I need one.  I think entering into one at this point in my life would be the wrong decision for me.  I have to remember this next time I am tempted to take that trip down Revolutionary Road again.  Having a relationship isn't what defines me.  I define me and my dealings with other people (aka relationships) should only compliment the greatness I have built (aka my life).  That is what this blog is about; the good relationships I build and what they bring to my life, however fleeting or brief.

Note - Last night, I found myself laying on the couch crying.  A cute boy that I like a lot called me and I talked about my ex.  Bad move.  I might have decided I will write about my past... I will not talk to cute boys about it.  Not a good look.  If you find yourself laying on a couch crying, that's okay.  It happens, but you can't do it long.  You need to get up and move on sooner rather than later. 

There Will Be No Obligatory Sex.

Recently, a prospective blind date texted, asking if I wanted to have a drink some time.  There was an obvious flirtation, so there was no question about whether this was a romantic drink or not.  It was.  We exchanged texts and a date was set.  We would meet on Tuesday.  You don't need to know anything else about this guy except that there was no need for his last text.  It was a deal breaker.  "Cool ... let me know what you want to do and you probably know what I want to do, so maybe 50/50?  We do what you want and then go back and do what I want later?"  Are you serious?  No.  Date cancelled.  Thank you for saving me from a waste of a perfectly useful date night.  I am not pre-agreeing to have sex with you.  We've never met.  And, so, based on the text you just sent me, you won't be fucking.  Not Tuesday, not Wednesday, not in 2011... never.

A similar thing happened on the date with the 22 year old.  I got this feeling that he was expecting that sex was just going to happen. Regardless of our chemistry or attraction, sex was inevitable.  Not the case.  The difference was, the 22 year old had read a little of this blog and he was over zealous.  Dickhead from the first paragraph doesn't even know about the blog.  He's just a moron.  

I don't have obligatory sex.  I know what you are thinking, what about The Beautiful One?  That was pre-negotiated.  You're right, it was, but seriously if you had ever seen him ... He gets a pass on all things that are or aren't in my character.  He was amazing.  Plus, we video chatted.  I knew what was up, and he was smooth about it.  We knew what we were meeting up to do, but he still took time to chill with me and chat it up.  Have a few laughs.  He was a nice guy.  Even though we met up with the idea of having sex, never did I feel like not having sex with him might cost me my ride home.  

There are fine lines and it is hard to explain them.  They are not always black and white. Sometimes, you might feel like you are pushing the line only slightly.  Instead, you come off like a total asshole.  If it comes down to a choice of playing it cool or going for the gusto, I would say 99.99% of the time, playing it cool is your best bet.  

Another fatal flaw in the text was the positioning of sex as a bartering tool.  Please do not use sex as a payback or a negotiator.  So, let me get this straight.  You suffer through an evening of things I enjoy, and in return, I suffer through sex with you?  What is this, a trade?  No deal.  No thanks, guy. I never really liked miniature golf and I've seen most of the current movies out, while on dates with nice guys.  I don't really need a chicken dinner like that.  My mom makes chicken and I can eat it in my jammies then go to sleep. 

So, in the end, I will not be agreeing to sex with you in exchange for something I want to do.  I'm not hungry or thirsty enough to fuck you.  I'm good.  But, thanks for the offer? ...  Anyone want to go out on Tuesday?

The Good Date - Part 2

We were off to begin our mystery date.  Laughter ensued and all my nervousness wore off by the time we reached the end of my street.  I remembered then that I really liked this guy.  He was pretty great on our first date.  I had forgotten how well we connected.  I mean, I remembered that I liked him ... I did sleep with him.  But, I had forgotten how much I actually liked him.

We drove for 5 minutes and he asked if I had tried a drink called a Four Loko.  I had not.  Apparently, it was the newest hood drink and I wasn't allowed to leave Houston without having one.  So, we stopped into the first corner store we came to.  They did indeed have the beverage, but it was less than frosty, so we continued on in search of a cold Four Loko. He came to another store, and this one had chilled Four Lokos in assorted flavors.  He purchased one for each of us and we continued on.

We did not head toward the city, but instead we drove into the dark.  Shady?  Yes, but I was willing to keep the faith and find out what else he had planned.  We pulled into a strip center with a tattoo parlor and a smoke shop.  He grabbed our drinks and we entered a side door and headed upstairs.  Also shady?  Not really.  It was a hookah lounge.  I am not sure if I told him or not, but I love hookah.  So far, his memory of our conversations was more than impressive, so I wouldn't be surprised if I had mentioned it.

We got settled on a couch in the corner and talked about my life in New England while smokin' on a mixture of 'Lady in Red' and 'Sex With an Ex.'  Since we were on the subject, we talked about past relationships and laughed through stories of lofty relationship aspirations.  By this time, I had figured out that a strip club was not on the agenda tonight.  I changed out of my heels and into my sandals and I got comfortable under the arm of my cute, attentive, smart, funny companion.  The lounge was BYOB, so we cracked open our drinks.  Being a gentleman, he had let me pick the flavors, so we shared a fruit punch and a watermelon.  Po-tent.  Man ... after my share and a bit of his, I was tipsy.  Not drunk ... I try to stay away from drunk on dates.

After an hour or so, he told me we had to be off to our next destination.  I was already having a great time.  But, apparently the night would continue on.  We drove a short distance and pulled into another dark strip.  This time, we were at the movies.  We weren't just at the movies.  We were at my favorite theatre.  A place where we could see a movie, order dinner and have a drink in the luxury of individual rolly chairs.  Did he also remember that this was my favorite theatre?  No way.  Just coincidence.

We proceeded straight to the counter where he picked up pre-purchased tickets to Piranha.  I didn't even remember saying I wanted to see this movie, but cheesy thrillers are a favorite of mine.  He said I had mentioned that I had to see it on our first date.  And ... it was RealD.  So, now it was confirmed.  I had never seen a RealD movie and I was determined to see one before summer was over.  He had remembered the details.  This was a tailor made date.  One specifically to fit me.  I would have thought this was an elaborate way to get me in the sack, but that already happened.  This was just a good date.  He liked me and he wanted me to have a good time.  I did.  Once in the theatre, I became a little kid.  I got a milk shake, a basket of fries and, later, a Blue Moon.  I had a fantastic time.  The movie was fast paced and we were the only people in the theatre, so we cracked jokes and commented the whole way through.  After the movie, he drove me home.  We made out in the driveway for a bit, then I pried myself away to get inside.

He had remembered everything I had told him on our first date.  It was thoughtful.  I am getting nervous about leaving again.  This always happens.  This was a nice break from thinking about my inevitable departure.  I have a crush on this one. The second date didn't end in sex or anything more interesting than a thank you text. I did briefly touch his penis during the movie, but that is neither here nor there.  We didn't go to a strip club or a motel.  He just took me to smoke hookah and see a cheesy flick.  He even got me a milkshake.*  This wasn't an X-rated date, it was just a simple tale of a really good date with a nice man.

*If you were wondering ... Yes.  Hookah + a milkshake + Four Loko + cheesy 3D thriller does equal a stomach ache the next day.  

Letters From Natalia - My Life As The Other Woman

The following is a letter from an anonymous reader.  She calls herself Natalia. 

Dear Poly,

I was completely addicted. Seeking out men that “weren’t” available because they had a ring on their finger. Such bullshit. Every man is available. They just don’t know it until everything has already happened. So, lets call this guy Dick. Dick was married for 8 years to who he thought was the woman of his dreams. He was really physically active and on lonely nights, when his lovely wife was out having “girls night” or so she called it, he would frequent runners forums. On the other end you have me, single, successful, Brazilian, blue eyed, mid 20’s, hungry for adventure, woman - with a tendency to fall for the wrong man at the wrong time. I had just started running to keep me away from dating and men altogether. I’ve always been the type of girl that feels more comfortable around men. Mainly, because I was brought up by father and his brothers. Also, I think there is some sort of chemical reaction that occurs between two people when they know they can’t have each other. Any who, I messaged this guy who would always post about reaching that point to where your entire body goes numb after running for hours on end. I wanted that. Sounds similar to what happens after a multiple orgasm. When was the last time you had one of those? Ha! yep, rare, aren’t they. We kept messaging each other for about two weeks straight... I kept finding myself daydreaming of what Dick looked like. 

Finally, one Friday during an angry thunderstorm, he invited me over to his place to try out his new “espresso machine”. Of course I asked where his wife was and if she would be joining us. “Oh, no she is out of town for the next two weeks.” Perfect. I drove out to suburbia and it took me a bit, since I thought about turning around and going back home to my book instead. Should I? No, yes. Yes. He was waiting out front of his house for me, I parked and I hesitated to open the door. He walked towards me, and he was godly. When I say godly, there seemed to be a shift in the mother fucking universe. He was everything I wanted to fuck. He took one look at me and smiled. He slid his hand down the lower part of my back to guide me in. I was in, this was going to be super easy. You and me both know, I’m not one to want to invest in a relationship, so this was golden. No strings attached, he’s married, so he can’t want me. Who the hell would leave their wife of 8 years for someone they just met anyway. We ended up drowning our secrets in a bottle of rum he had. We were standing in the middle of the kitchen and during one of those moments, you know after laughing for hours, that moment of silence when you catch each others eyes and smile. He came closer and I closed my eyes... he grabbed my thighs and slammed me onto the counter top and ripped my tank off. The rest of the rum dripped down my ass- he turned me around and shoved his face in between my legs. I could feel his tongue pressed tight up against my clit and I moaned. He pulled my head back to kiss me and I felt a bit of guilt. Just for a split second. “You want this cock inside you, don’t you.. I’ll give it to you real good...” And he did. Real good. He did me good for 5 hours. We emptied out the refrigerator and dipped ourselves in everything from peanut butter, whipped cream, to basil pesto. I woke up the next morning on the couch with his head on my stomach. I searched for the door and clothes and I was far from both. I managed to slide him off of me and ran to grab what was left of my clothes. It was 11am on a Saturday morning. I got in my car and drove as fast as I could back into the city.

My phone started ringing immediately. It was Dick. I didn’t answer it...

It’s three days later and I’m in Dicks truck, naked. We are out in them middle of a field, god knows where- and his seats are soaked with me. He looks at me and says... I’m leaving my wife. My heart fell out of my ass. I searched for the handle and tried to get out, he pulled my hair and slammed me on the seat. He whispered “I’ve got you now sweet cunt, you know you want it again.” I did. I wanted him so bad all day and night long. I gave in. I gave in for the next 4 months. Then he disappeared. However, I did get the pleasure in speaking to his wife. I don’t think she liked me much, telling from her voice message she left. “If I ever find out who you are you stupid whore, I’m going to kill you, you piece of shit home-wrecker.” Home wrecker. He lied to me. He lied to her. A week later I got a phone call from a hospital. It was Dick. “Please come get me out of here my wife put me in the bin. She thinks I’m crazy for wanting to leave her.” Fuck all of that. I was working on husband number 3. I was on a mission to prove myself right. I was out to prove that any man I came across was a cheater. I did good. I ended up having 15 affairs within 8 months.

... and now I don’t fully trust any man I come across.

Natalia

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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 Good Date - Part 1

Men and women alike, get out your crayons and Big Chief tablets ... this one merits some note-taking.

Yesterday was not a great day.  I had a bad conversation with an ex.  I was feeling distant and unloved.  I ate everything in the kitchen and I had a pimple.  Nothing major happened.  No one cussed me out or told me I was ugly.  No one was even halfway rude to me.  I was just not feeling like myself.  This feeling was very similar to the way I felt the first time Todd took me out.  On our initial date, he used the power of his dick to pull me out of my funk and all was well with the world.

I had texted him earlier in the day, before my mundane bout with the useless emotion of self-pity for no good reason had consumed me.  The text was simple. "I am leaving in 10 days."  We had a good first date and he had asked to take me out again.  I was afraid that he might take his sweet time and then time would be up.  I was just letting him know we didn't have the luxury of time.  It was received.  He asked what I was doing tonight.  Bingo!

We had agreed that he would pick me up some time after 7.  He texted at 7:05 and said something was wrong with my phone because he had been trying to call.  He had made plans, but wouldn't tell me what they were.  He was ready when I was.  I was ready by 8:15, he was outside my place by 8:45.

When he told me he had made surprise plans, it made me a bit nervous.  What could we be doing?  The only thing I remembered discussing for a possible future date was a strip club.  So, I decided he was probably going to take me to a butt naked.  I was not in the mood, but we had talked about it and if those were the plans he made, so be it.  I was going to go to that strip club and, if he bought me a lapdance, I was going to accept it graciously.  The fact that a pre-planned date threw me into pseudo-panic mode is definitely a sign of the times.  I was not used to this.

Getting ready for this date was a lot like getting ready for my first date with Todd.  I consulted my sister on 3 different dresses.  I tried on multiple pairs of shoes.   He makes me nervous.  I am not sure why, but he does.  This was good.  The nervous turned to excited and I found myself out of the bad mood.  My sister and I settled on a simple black dress, black heels and a black bag.

He called.  My pulse sped up.  He was outside.  I got into his car and he was just as cute as I had remembered.  He smiled, said hi and reversed out of the driveway.  Off to the strip club?...

The Nice Girl

I have always been the preamble to the Nice Girl.  In the past, I dated guys and they either broke up with me for her or started dating her immediately after I broke up with them.  I am the primer for the Nice Girl.  If you want to meet the one for you, sleep with me.  Oh, it's not me, I need to go home, but you will meet her soon.  Trust me.

The trouble was, when I thought I wanted a relationship, I was never viewed as the Nice Girl.  Guys might fall in love with me, but somewhere in the back of their minds they didn't think I was the marrying type.  Now, this could have been the product of a few things.  I could have very well been putting it out there that I would not be the one for them, because I did not want to get married.  I really didn't even want to be in a relationship.  So, maybe it was a vibe I was sending.  This is possible and highly probable.

But, the other possibility, the one that hangs in the back of my mind, is that I can't be the Nice Girl because I enjoy sex.  A lot.  I used to lie about my sexuality.  I am not proud of it, but I did it.  Most women do.  Look at the woman lying next to you.  You don't know how many men she's been with.  Either you haven't asked (good for you),  or you asked and she gave you a number you could deal with.  She lied to you because you should have never asked that shit.  If she asked you, then shame on her.  That conversation shouldn't come up unless one of you is a virgin.  And even then, if you feel like you need to share, don't expect your partner to reciprocate unless you are really ready for the answer.  So yes, I lied about it.  I don't anymore.   I don't volunteer my info, but if asked, he better be ready to know the truth.

Whether the men in my past could sense my eagerness to vacate the relationship or they just didn't think I was nice enough, the fact still remains that there is a pressure on women to lie about their sexuality.  A man wants a woman that is good in bed, but he wants it to be a magical gift, not something she learned through exploration.  While this isn't the universal truth (no truths are),  it is a large part of our culture.

Here are some ground rules for women and sexuality in our society:

Women can fall into one of two categories.  You can either be the Madonna or the Whore. So, you can be the mother and the wife or you can be sexually liberated.  You can spend your days ironing and cooking or you can spend them on the streets making money.  These are very extreme cases of the Madonna and the Whore, but they are roles that are prevalent in our society nonetheless.  You see it in television and in movies and yes, in real life.  The pressures are there.  So, you have two options.  Pick one.

You can be a freak in the sheets, but you have to be a lady in the streets.  This is another option. Live a double life.  This way you can act like one thing and be another.  Best of both worlds, right? Wrong.  It just makes you a hypocrite and a liar.  I don't blame you, I know society has forced it upon you.  You need to be able to satisfy your man and still be able to hold your head up at Sunday dinner.  So, here's what you do... If you are sexually active and 'promiscuous,' you better do your best to cover it up.  Hide your sexuality until it's time to let it out for the person that should get enjoyment from it, your man.

Those were the options, but this is the golden rule; You can't turn a hoe into a housewife.  If you have ever been promiscuous, then you can't possibly ever be someone's mother or wife.  Silly woman.  And aren't these the main things that women aspire to:  The Hoe or the Housewife, the Madonna or the Whore, or the life of dual citizenship in both?

______________________________________________________

Fuck that.  I am me.  I am a nice girl.  I am all the things that I am.  I can wake up in the morning, have sex with you, rush you up out of my house,  make it to work on time, give a presentation on the gender gap in American voting records, come home and cook dinner for myself, invite you over, give you the best head of your life and still make it to drinks with my girlfriends.  I am a best friend to all my long-term lovers.  I give emotional support and comic relief.  I am a great person to call if you need anything.  I am resourceful.  I can change the oil in your car, change a flat tire and still look fly as hell when I go out.  I have a foul mouth, but your mother still loves me, because I'm sharp witted and I help clean the kitchen after dinner without her having to ask.  Your dad loves me because I am funny and charming.  All your friends think I'm dope, but you don't ever have to worry about me flirting with any of them.  And don't even think of trying to flirt with my girls, because I make friendships with bonds that no man can break.  I have an amazing relationship with my family and I am a responsible loving daughter.  I am great at math and I am better in bed.  I love sex and I am a good person.    

So, I don't fit into those categories.  I don't fit into any mold that society has prescribed.  I'm not a hoe or a housewife, I am not the Madonna or the Whore.  I am a freak in the sheets but I am always a lady, whether in the streets or the sheets.  I don't want to be your girlfriend or your wife, but I am still a good woman.  Actually, I am a great woman.  That's not even the big news.  The big news is you passed up about 30 other great women getting here, but they were all still attempting to fit some mold, so you only got to see one-tenth of who they actually were.  I'm done trying to fit the mold.  My back hurts and I gained a few pounds.  So, I may not be your Nice Girl.  But, from here on out, I am just going to be the great woman that I am.

Honesty

Honesty is one of the great things about being single.  I get to be painfully honest.  Of course, I have taken honesty to the next level.  Some times it creeps up on me in the middle of the night and I bury my face in the pillows or pull the covers up over my head.  I remember things I have divulged here and I want to deactivate my Facebook account, close my computer and drop off the grid.  Some times I feel cleansed and proud.  Other times, it hits me that people, strangers and loved ones, know that I recently tried anal sex or that I am willing to take a face shot and I feel embarrassed or exposed.  Those feelings pass and I remember that it's still just me.  Whether I keep it all hidden under my sheets or post it for all to read.  I am still doing these things.  I did them before I started this blog and I will be doing them after its gone. Well, accept the anal sex.  That was new.  I started this blog because I wanted to share.  I wanted to give women and men a place to relate to someone and I wanted to feel like I could share and relate and just be honest.  It's no different than the rest of life, it's just amplified and accelerated.  The things I used to keep hidden about myself are all available at the click of a button.  Anyone that wants to know can know and the worst part is over.  I am found out.

So, in the spirit of future regret, here are some things you don't know about me:

• I haven't masturbated more than once all summer and I miss it.  I don't have any privacy, so I don't have the space to rub one out as often as I would like.  One night I was in bed with a man that I am comfortable with and I knew he wanted to watch, so I masturbated.  No amount of sex can replace masturbation and no amount of masturbation can replace sex. 
• My mother knows I have this blog, but she does not read it.  We have pretty open conversations, but we don't go into the details of our sex lives.  It's not necessary.  
• I am a big family person.  Nothing is more important than my family.  
• I have had two yeast infections in my life.  
• I don't like to do it, but I rarely find a guy that won't have sex with me on my period.  I have only ever done it when in a relationship, but, again, I don't like it.  It's too slick.
• I have never had an STD, but I have a lot of friends that have had run-ins and scares and it is a terrifying thought to me.  
• Pregnancy scares are equal to the thought of an STD.  Terrifying. 
• I have a mustache.  It's not a full stache, but it's enough.  I keep it waxed, but sometimes if I'm in a pinch, I will run a razor over it.  
• I don't like men in porn.  Most of the time I only focus on the women.  However, I find sex with women to be boring.  So, most of the time, I find porn boring. 
•  I am not equipped for a threesome or an open relationship.  I would rather be one on one and I would rather just date and not put a title on it at all.  But, if I date a guy too long, I start getting jealous and I have to end it.  I can't be fair.  It's hard for me to separate my actions from my expectations.
• I don't talk about my past relationships much and I never talk about them on the blog.  This is not about them.   
• I was hit by a man in when I was a teenager and I immediately left the relationship.  It was surprising, but I had already made plans to leave.  Something felt really wrong.  I was never hit by anyone else again. 
• I regularly think about what life would be like if I had married my ex.  I sit alone at dinner sometimes and wonder what we would talk about if he were there.  It's not really sad, just more curious.  
• I had an abortion when I was 19.  I have curiosities about that life as well.  
• The only regret I have from my past resides in the memory of the way I reacted when I found out the man I loved cheated on me.  I let it break me for a little while.  I don't have long-term regrets about anything else.   
• I am dark, my ass is not.  I need an ass tan.  
• I have one inner labia that is slightly larger than the other.  Just slightly.  I don't know if this is normal, because I have never talked to anyone about it and I don't remember noticing it in porn.  It causes me no pain or inconvenience.  
• I like my breasts and my best friend used to tell me that he was embarrassed to go places with me, because I was that old lady that stands and rubs on her breasts unknowingly while in line at the DMV.  
• I play with my ears.  All the time.  It used to just be when I was tired or nervous, but now it's just something I do. 
• I loved being in a relationship in the height of when it was good.  I used to wake up on Saturday mornings and play dress-up while he watched from bed.  Then, we would spend the entire day making love and laughing.  Saturdays are never like that anymore.  
• I have physical insecurities just like everyone else.  Most of mine are with my stomach and butt.  I am not too fond of those two parts of my body.  My stomach is an especially vulnerable place.  Letting a man touch my stomach is like therapy.  I try to do it often.  This was the hardest one to share.  That's why it's last.  

Remember, these are just my secrets.  This is not a full account of all of the details that are me, just the most embarrassing and lesser known facts.  Hopefully, there are people out there that can relate to some of these truths.  Or, maybe not.  Maybe this post was just a catharsis that people will read and shrug off.  Either way, it's me.  It's not necessarily the tale of every woman, just of this one.  Burying face in pillows and pressing 'Publish Post.'  

Money

Yesterday, I was talking with a prospective date about possibly meeting up.  We did not meet up.  Somewhere between him saying he wasn't actually asking me out, telling me that I needed to come his way (Katy,TX) and insinuating that the night would end in sex, I was labeled high-maintenance.  His assessment was flawed and quite hasty.  This is not me.  Because I would not travel 2 hours or more, on the bus, to come sit on his couch and then have sex with him, I was not the kind of woman he likes.  After I gave him a piece of my mind for even insinuating that something like that would go down, he said he "needs a woman that can meet half-way.  So, I decided my prospective dates might need to have a come-to-Jesus regarding what "half-way" actually means.  Hopefully ol' dude will read this and the woman that does decide to meet this guy half-way can thank me for showing him the error of his ways.  

Dear Prospective Date,
I have always said I don't really care about money.  This is true for the most part.  I don't have to be taken on lavish dates.  I don't have to be picked up in a luxury car or taken back to make love in a big house.  Modesty is just fine with me.  I am not superficial.  I am not a big consumer and I am not a gold digger.  Everything I own can fit into two suitcases and 4 boxes.  I am a simple woman.

But, there are certain ways that money does play a part in dating.  I know what you are thinking ... "And here it is.  She says she's not about money, but there's always a catch."  Wrong!  There's always practicality.  I don't mind if you have responsibilities and you can't take me out and spend money.  That's cool.  But make it interesting somehow.  Make some sort of effort.  If you aren't that interesting, then I'm sorry, I am going to need a drink ... or three.  If you are creative, or we dig the same things, then we can kick it and I will probably never notice that you didn't spend a dime.

Another thing.  You need a car.  This isn't me being superficial.  This is me being sans car.  I take the bus.  I am all about public transportation.  But, if you want to have an evening with me, I can't catch the bus at 2am.  My bus stops running at midnight.  So, I'm going to need you to give me a ride home.  I can catch the bus to your side of town, but you have to pick me up or meet me somewhere.  Two bus riders just doesn't work.  I have tried.  It's okay for lunch and coffee, but if you ever expect to sleep with me, or see me at night, you need to have a car.  Or you better have a place near a bus line and a creative date planned.  Actually, I would be willing to try this.  If you think you can pull this off, hit me up. I'm game.

On the subject of getting me in bed... I am only in town for the summer.  While I am here, I do not have a place of my own.  I need you to have one.  A house.  An apartment.  I don't care if you share it with a roommate.  I do care if you have parents or a kid at home. I am not trying to meet your parents or your kids on our one night stand.  If you do live with your folks, you need to be able to afford a hotel. Hourlies are fine, but I expect no less than 2 hours.  (Less than that is hardly worth risking scabies.)  I'm in town on a writing grant and the summer is almost over.  I'm broke.  If I had cash I might split the cost of the hotel with you.  Or, I might go home and masturbate.  Depends on how interesting you are.  Once I get back to New England, I will be happy to take dates back to my dorm room, where we can awkwardly pass my 20 year old housemates watching Glee on the couch, then proceed to the privacy of my own four walls and locking door.  It's not much, but oh how I miss it these days.

Last thing ... If we have just met ... No, I will not take you out.  I will not buy you dinner.  I will not buy you a ticket to the movie.  I will not loan you 2 dollars till Friday.  I will not buy your drinks. This is not a good first impression.  If I get to know you and we are cool and can take care of yourself, then I will use my last two dollars to get us both a bottle of water.  I will leave the tip.  I will tip your cabby.  I will surprise you with dinner or a nice little gift.  I will not give you a payday advance.  I will not pay your lights.   I will not feed your babies.  I will not pay your rent and I will definitely never ask that you pay mine.  This is not harsh. This is smart.  I have done stupid shit like loan a guy money in the very distant past.  It never turns out well.  Trust me.  If I have to take care of you, I will resent you.  Because, I don't need anyone to take care of me. I am not delicate flower.  I can pull my own weight.  But, I can't carry yours too.  Independent means I can take care of me.  I think you are looking for codependent.

I don't need you to be rich, I just need you to be self-sufficient and able to extend the offer of a ride if it is raining or some water if I am thirsty.

Thank you in advance for a great date or comedic blog material.

Best,
~ Poly

Cunnilinguistics

This is a repost from Adam Scott Thompson's blog, New Shoes, or: How Men Really Think

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Fuck what you've heard. Men go down on women a lot-- and mostly without solicitation.

To be sure, it's a labor of "love." It can get funkier down there than aBootsy Collins headliner tour. There's that acidic taste (always makes me think of 9th grade chemistry when I discovered what a "pH balance" is) and five-day stubble that would make us sneeze if we weren't so thoroughly committed.

Do what you want with your legs but do not, in a moment of ecstasy, strangle us with them like a reticulated python. And don't pop your pelvis up into our faces either; it's easier to break a nose than you think.

Your bed sheet will double as a napkin.

There will be a lot of tongue flicking, as most men assume that theSerpentor method of cunnilingus is most effective. They'll also head straight for your Easy button, so don't be surprised.

If you're the spitting cobra type (yeah, we're just gonna keep the snake references going), please give forewarning. Men like to be inside vagina but not mug-to-mug with it; it's already stressful without the exploding dye pack effect. And cooch, on its own, is quite unattractive-- especially if it resembles a show curtain.

Look, if the guy's into you he'll want to put his face in the place, but you've got to coach him. Otherwise he'll be like Moses in the wilderness and you'll never reach the Promised Land. Oral sex is different than vaginal sex-- a man's pride isn't so tightly wrapped around it-- so you don't have to worry so much about bruising his ego by giving him a hint or two. He'll thank you later... when you thank him later.

Head ... It's A Deal Breaker.

Yesterday, I got an email from a woman saying she is not big on waxing or shaving and she is not sure if that is the reason why she has only gotten head once in her life. Could be, but I say it's probably because she doesn't ask for it. Personally, I groom. I keep the area as tidy as possible. I never know when I might get lucky. And, it increases my sensitivity and turns me on. So, I do it for me, but I can't say whether grooming or not grooming has ever had an influence on the amount of head I get. Different people like different things.

Cunnilingus is a deep topic, so to speak. There are many different layers, but it seems that the biggest questions are: Why are women scared to ask for it? and Why are some men scared to do it? Again, I can't really answer these questions. But, that is what I do. I pose a question and then I ramble about my experiences and then at the end, none of us are any closer to the "truth." But, hopefully, some people feel like they are less alone in their sexual struggles. Now, for the rambling.

If you give me head, it is appreciated. You don't have to love giving me head, but if you do, it's so much better. If a guy gets hard and stays hard while giving me head and we can have sex immediately after, he gets a little gold star in my little black book. I recently got the best head of my life. I immediately told him how great it was and I am sure my satisfaction was reflected when we had sex and I gave him head. It was a truly mutually beneficial experience.

I also had a recent run-in with some not so good head. The guy was all over the place. This approach is good, at first. But, at some point I need you to get centered and focused and slow it down. Too hard, too fast, too much. I need a man to hear me and feel my movements as he is giving me head. Don't just go down there and start putting on a show. We have to work together on this. I am listening to your body and your sounds when giving you head. Do the same for me.

For all of those men out there that say they don't go down on women ... whatever your reasoning, grow up. As for your homeboy across the table, laughing and agreeing with you ... He went down on me last week. Yeah. He's pretty good at it. That's why he probably gets more head than you. If you aren't willing to go below the equator, neither am I. If you don't like going down on me, try giving a dude head. It's a lot harder. Trust me. I know. No? No, you don't want to go down on men either? I didn't think you would go for that. So, suck it up. We all do things that aren't the greatest for us. I don't really care if you are having a great time. Your great time will come when I am giving you the best head of your life. But, this is the giving portion of the show.

So, in response to the author of the letter, I am not sure why your partners aren’t going down on you. The one thing I am sure of is you aren’t insisting upon getting head. I don’t mean to sound harsh. Of course, you don’t want someone to go down on you if they are being a jerk about it, but from personal experience, most guys aren’t jerks about it. If I went strictly off of my experience, I would say that 98% of men give head. If you tell a man that you really want it, they will probably be more likely to do it.

The trouble with this is that there is an odd stigma on going down on women. This is a crock of shit. When you go down on a woman, you are doing half of the work we do when we go down on you. Some times, the day after giving good head, I have teeth indentions on my upper and lower lip. I deep throat, so sometimes my throat is a little sore. Not to mention that depending on the man, the shape and the size of his penis, my eyes water and my nose runs. And I have to hide all of this and still seem moderately sexy while doing it. If you want that from us, then hop to. Answer the call of duty. Men, if you want to get head, then you have responsibilities and when you shirk said responsibilities, you seem unreliable. When you say you don’t go down on women, you are, essentially, saying you aren’t that good of a lover. If you are happy with shouting that from a mountaintop, then run and tell it. Trust, your partners will help you spread the word. Or, you can step up to the plate and work on being a better man.

Face Shots ...

I'm not talking about pictures, folks.

Anytime it comes up, there is always a mixed bag of reaction. It's quite possibly one of the most uncomfortable conversations I have ever had with a group of women. Yet, I broach the subject any time I can. It doesn't happen often, because it's not often you can just ask, "So, how do you ladies feel about letting a guy cum on your face?"

See, it just made you a little uncomfortable. It unnerved you at the least. I am still unsure about the reality of this question or the answers it yields. It is frequently addressed as a taboo. Women will say that letting a guy cum on their breasts is no big deal. On their asses? Meh. But, letting a man cum on your face is inherently demeaning. It is just wrong.

So, is letting a man cum on your face degrading? I don't have the answer to this question.

What I do know is that I am, personally, grossed out by cum shots in porn. I am actually grossed out by most of the things in porn that are meant to turn a guy on. But then again, nothing in porn is as wholesome as real-life sex. Everything is a little more contrived and seedy. It's sex that is geared to an audience. Nothing in porn is for the actual people involved in the act. If the actors get enjoyment from it ... good for them, but that is a side note. The producers of that porn care nothing about if the woman actually came. They only care that she can fake it like nobody's business. So, the face getting cummed on doesn't have to be into it in porn. No one sat her down and said "Do you feel like taking a face shot today?" She's following blocking and director's notes. In that way, porn is not a true representation of sex or sexuality. Comparing sex and porn is a lot like comparing fruit and plastic fruit. They are both pretty and nice to look at, but fruit yields to the touch, it smells good and it's nourishing to the body. Plastic fruit is hard, cold and gets dusty. Porn looks nice, but it's sole purpose is to get a third party off. There is no real intimate interaction, no intent. The only intent is to do things, however mundane or outlandish, that will get people off. The interpretation lies with the beholder.

The beauty of sex between me and my partner is that we don't have to bring outside influence or other people's notions of what is and is not right into the bedroom. If a guy is prone to demeaning behavior or habits, the odds are good he won't be cumming within a 10 foot radius of me. If he's an asshole, the question of whether he can cum on my face or not won't ever come into play, because we won't be having sexual contact of any kind. One-timers and every-now-and-thens would stand no chance. This would be reserved for special members. And if, on a particular day, I am feeling oppressed by the outside world, I can say "No. I don't want you to cum on my face, sir. Not today." And any guy that I share a bed with will simply say ... "Okay." And after he's cum elsewhere, he will still lay with me and hold my hand and kiss my cheek, because it's not that big of a deal.

I would know if my partner were trying to degrade me. It's wrong to assume that an act is inherently a degradation of an entire sex or gender. I don't ever think I am degrading my partner when I move to the top of the bed and take my seat on his face. We are just having fun and doing what feels good for us. So, why would I think he has any different thoughts. Something is degrading if one is degraded. If I don't like something, I simply don't do it. During sex, I should be 100% with everything going on. If I'm not diggin it, it is not going down. But, I also try not to feel bad for things I don't mind or thing that I actually like, because someone else minds it, doesn't like it or has a preconceived notion of the intent behind it. All men and women have different motives. The things I do in the privacy of my bed, car or an elevator with my partner are my business and only I can decide what's right for me. I gauge things differently in different situations, but for the most part, I can't say I would really take issue with an occasional face shot from a special guy.

It's Not Love. It's Just Good.

At the beginning of the summer, I was floating in the pool with Lynn and I said these words, "I am going to have a summer romance. I just really want one. I need one. And, I want it to be with your friend, Lewis. Tell me good things about him."

I am not Lewis' girlfriend. Lewis isn't my boyfriend. We communicated early on in this and we found out that neither of us were looking for a relationship. There is no question about it. We have no expectations of each other. We hang out, because we want to. We spend time together because we don't have forever to spend time together. We are on a timeline that has an end-point. In two weeks, I will go back to New England and he will stay here. Our lives will continue and we will be left with nothing but good memories of each other.

Last night, as I was explaining some nerdy saying to him, he told me that he liked my hair. I had just put energy and effort into explaining a slightly difficult concept and he just smiled and looked at me. He liked my hair. As I looked back at him, I wondered, "What is this I am feeling?" It's not love. Love is a thing that I don't understand right now. I don't have room for it and I don't think you can feel it for someone this quickly. I have also always associated love with structured relationships and monogamy. This is none of those things. We aren't in a structured relationship. We aren't monogamous. This is an affection you can only feel when you are perfectly free with someone. An affection that can only be active and alive briefly, but can live on in memory forever.

Yet, when we lay next to each other, working away on our computers, it's so simple. He inspires me. We motivate each other to be better. When we talk, we both get this spark and we have the same goals and the same views. Spending time together is so good and so easy. We are friends. We are lovers. And one of the best parts of all of it is, we don't have to talk about what it is going on with us. We know. We know exactly what's going on. We are enjoying each other. It's not going anywhere, it's not growing into anything. There is no final goal looming over our heads. I don't even know how long we have been seeing each other. It doesn't matter. At no point, will I expect anything more from him, nor he from me. We have this freedom. We are free to enjoy each other. Free to talk about stupid shit and free to stay up all night making love. We are free to live recklessly, because in two weeks I will be gone. This will be over.

So, maybe when I look at him love is what I am feeling. But, it's not that romantic kind of love that people associate with looking deep into a lover's eyes. I love the fact that he has never and will never disappoint me. I love that I don't, and will never, have bad memories of him. I love that we don't have titles and boundaries put on each other and that we are free when we are together. I love that I can trust him, because we have no reasons to lie to each other. I love knowing that when he is with me it's because he wants to be, not because of any obligation. At the same time, I love that he held my hand when we woke up this morning. I am not 'in love' with Lewis. I don't really know what to call what I feel for him. I respect him and moments with him are some of my favorite in the world right now. But, when I go, no hearts will break. We will both just go on.

This isn't a fairy tale. It's better than that. This is reality. And the reality is, this was the summer romance I had hoped for. He was exactly what I needed, everything I wanted. We aren't characters from some cheesy movie. This isn't the story of the woman trying to find her independence and, in her search, she finds a man and love. It's not going to end like that. I will be across the country and the odds of us hooking up in the future are slim to none. I never say never. I may see him, but we won't ever be those people working on building something. We won't ever fight or have bad memories of each other. I am happy and the best way to describe this romance is bitter-sweet. I am not happy to leave this. He is great and great things are hard to give up. But, on August 31st, Lewis will be filed away in my memory...

... under "Great Romances, Past."

The Co-Worker - Part 2

That night, I drove to The Co-Worker's house and he and I watched tv, talked about work and had sex. It wasn't quite making love and it wasn't quite fucking. We had been friends for years. It was something else. While inside me, he leaned down and said "you don't know how long I have wanted this." I guess they were on to something all along. I spent the night with him and the next morning, I left.

We would repeat these late night meetings. It was good. We would lay with each other and laugh about work and mutual acquaintances. Things were nice with him. They weren't great. They were far from bad. Nothing was overly emotional, or even emotional at all. We just were. The sex was good. It was calm.

Then, one day it just stopped. We still talk on the phone occasionally. There were no hard feelings. Nothing happened. We can still go on being friends and maybe one day we will even find ourselves as bedmates again. I wouldn't mind either option. He's there. And I will always contact him when I come back to town. We were friends. We had sex. Nothing went wrong. We are still friends.

This is a short post for good reason. It wasn't exciting. It was exactly what it was. It was just something that happened. And, I am glad that it did.

Messages From Online Daters

This is the part of the blog where I am just mean. I have thought about it a bit and I would say this is the one time when I don't really hold back. When I write about my experiences I try to be as nice as possible while still being honest. Not when it comes to the messages I get on dating sites. I just can't help it. So, I signed up for a new site. On this one, I put that my interest was serial dating. I get like 30 messages a day. I don't know if that is a lot. Seems like it's just too much. Here are a handful of the messages I have received. Enjoy.

"Then how about tonight? Right to the point should get points, right?"

Idunno.

"Aren't you a little miracle!!!"

Man. We laughed at this one for a while. A long while. Me? A little miracle? Maybe when I was birthed.

"Ok. So I am seriously tongue tied here, normally I am the talker and love to engage people in conversation, break the ice and general just make people feel good.

However I find myself in unfamiliar territory with you as you are so beautiful and seriously the cats meow that I really don't have the first clue on what to say other that WOW!"

This is a copy and paste. Not an original word in the message. At least he put the effort into typing it out once.

"Very nice profile."

This is a lazier copy and paste. But at least it seems honest enough. His pics didn't look like a bot, so I am sure if he takes the time to copy and paste a message, he thinks the profile is, at least, nice. Maybe the "very" is an exaggeration.

"Very bold honesty, being a serial dater and all. Excellent! Props to u! Many women hide all their activities under garbs, its nice to see honesty."

Thanks for the props. Men hide their 'activities' too.

"No couch potatoes. Me, I love sex and rugs and rock and roll."

No couch potatoes. But he's fine with 'rug' addicts? Ugh. I don't know what any of that means.

"We look like the same person I think. What are you doing this weekend."

Just look in the mirror. Pretend we are hanging out.

"A serial dater? I like that ... but I guess ... nevermind, lol, I was going to say ... I wonder if a guy could do that, but lots do, but then your (sic) considered a player, lol, ..., right?"

Whatever. Chill with the ellipses and commas, guy. They are overriding your half-cocked assessment on the gender binary.

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If you'd like to be clowned on my blog, hit me up on a dating site.