Archive for April, 2013



08
Apr
13

An Open Letter to the Church from My Generation

I am an impassioned supporter of LGBTQ equality and a former Christian. The recent furor surrounding DOMA & Prop 8 being heard in the Supreme Court brought about many heated discussions in person and online. I heard so many so-called “Christians” condemning homosexuals and their supporters while clinging to their “faith” and scripture to support their oppression, bigotry and righteous superiority.

One of the most joyful days I’ve ever spent was at the Seattle (Gay) Pride parade last June. There were thousands of people there with joy in their hearts, smiles on their faces and love surrounding them. There were hundreds of churches represented there too – churches that welcomed all – like Jesus did. My face hurt from smiling by the end of the day.

I recently engaged in a debate with a Southern Baptist woman who felt so sorry for all of us who “haven’t let Jesus into our hearts” – a phrase that I took to be subtext for “don’t believe the same way I do.” She offered her sincere sympathy and her prayers. I was unable to effectively express how sorry that I felt for her that she didn’t have the love in her heart to embrace others fully and to know that unconditional love.

The blog below was written by young woman who is the same age as my children. She is able to convey what I wanted to say so much better than I. Perhaps it is her Christian perspective that allows her to speak so eloquently to other Christians. This is the first time that I have ever “reblogged” someone else’s words. They are important.

An Open Letter to the Church from My Generation.

08
Apr
13

“you act like a man when it comes to sex”

I have been keeping a very weird schedule and even though I should be trying to sleep right now, I thought I would spend some time trying to address some of the “future blog topics” that I posted earlier. I’ve chosen one that will take us out of the loose chronological order that I have been attempting, but it should be a somewhat short one. Tomorrow I will try to write about the man that made the statement that is my subject heading. We were involved for six months and he was my first ever “fuck buddy” – our relationship was about 90% sexual and it was really very excellent sex.

During the time that I was involved with this man, we were both dealing with the newness of having a lover that was just that – a lover and nothing more. Oh sure, we would text and email, but most of our conversations were usually sexual in nature or concerned coordinating when we would next get together. This was a first for both of us. We did “go out” twice during our involvement – both times early in the relationship. Mostly we just fucked – whenever we could manage it.

During this time, we established “rules” to avoid the intimacy of a relationship. No kissing (until we broke that one,) no talking on the phone (until we broke that one,) and no exclusivity. We both were involved with other people while we were seeing each other. He, particularly, demanded this and then seemed astonished at my willingness to accept such terms. He was further stunned to learn that I had other lovers – even though I was very clear that we were not “going steady.”

He seemed fascinated, aroused and also jealous and somewhat possessive at times. On several occasions he said that I was simply too good to be true. I didn’t make demands on his time or attention. I didn’t expect gifts, baubles, trinkets, dinners, dates…I just wanted to fuck. And did we ever.

We talked about having a “just sex” relationship but it’s as if he expected me to say “just kidding” and become needy and demanding at any second. Finally, one day, he looked at me and, shaking his head, with a bemused grin he said “I’ve never known a woman like you before. You act like a man when it comes to sex and relationships.”

I had to think about that one for a second.

I mean, yeah. I totally understand what he means. I like to have sex often. I didn’t need to attach love, emotions, definitions, titles and meaning to every stroke, gesture, thrust and orgasm. I buy my own condoms. I masturbate. I’m sex-positive. And I never imposed on other aspects of his life or was jealous of the time he spent doing other things. We were essentially free agents who got together a few times a month and had really incredible sex.

On the other hand, I am a woman. I do attach emotion to sex. But that’s okay too. I can have feelings for more than one person at a time. I think this was most perplexing for him. My ability to have love, affection, attraction and screaming orgasms with more than one person at the same time seemed comfortable for him as a man, but weird for me as a woman. So much so that it became a bit of a struggle for us.

Without going too far down the road where the relationship is concerned (that’s another blog entry and I promise it’s coming soon,) I found him to be more needy than I was in the relationship. I felt that I was giving him exactly what he wanted but not what he expected, so it threw him off a bit.

Bottom line – do I behave “like a man” when it comes to sex and relationships?

Well, yes. Many men freely involve themselves sexually with several women at the same time. They think nothing of going out, getting laid and having it be just sex without attaching some deeper meaning involving love, commitment, romance or God help us, being soulmates. Many men have been able to master more casual involvement – whether it’s with occasional fucks, one-night stands, friends with benefits or just casual dating.

Women, however, are often seeking commitment, monogamy, love and a serious relationship. Women that date and sleep with lots of men are often considered to be sluts or somehow lower class. I know that this isn’t always the case, but it seems to often be true.

I am a woman who loves sex. I love men. I love spending time with all kinds of men. I enjoy flirting, talking, touching, teasing, fucking. I am responsible for my own sexual health and I keep clean sheets on the bed.

Why does that make me “like a man” then? Why can’t this just make me an empowered, sex-positive, modern, single woman?

I would love to hear your thoughts.

07
Apr
13

topic mashup

Early on I posted a bunch of future topics. I found myself going back to those two posts today to try to figure out what I haven’t yet covered. There’s actually quite a bit! Since I have more followers now I thought I would re-blog these with the ones I’ve already written about removed.

In a couple of cases I can’t figure out where I intended to go with a topic, but others I am anxious to get to and will soon! Feel free to post a question, comment or suggestion about what your would like to have me write about!

  • No really, let’s talk more about my boobs!
  • BBW dating and sexy undies
  • “Reverse” age discrimination. Dating younger men and whether I’m a pig for dating someone 29 and not someone 55!
  • “You act like a man when it comes to sex and relationships”
  • “Are you sick of the bar scene?”
  • Cooking & shopping for one
  • Valentine’s Day and other depressing holidays
  • The ex and I discuss dating and sex (No! NOT with each other!)
  • Booze & boys: when the social lubricant turns to whiskey dick
  • So what’s the deal with (no) pubic hair?
  • “Wanna Chat?” “Pic for Pic?” (Online spank buddies)
  • Teeny Weenie Republicans (I will not fuck someone who is anti-choice!)
  • Vegas, Baby!
  • Lie to me! (Getting blown off/stood up)
  • Married men, morality and “relationshipppy” stuff
  • I want to pleasure *YOU*
  • Texts from jealous girlfriends
  • Brad Pitt 1994 – Legends of the Fall – and his jacket
  • The line between BDSM, hot sex and assault
07
Apr
13

that whole “cougar” thing? totally legit!

Cougar.

I’m not sure when I first heard the term, but I think that it started “trending” sometime after MILF – maybe in the mid-2000’s? Certainly Anne Bancroft is the most iconic cougar I can think of, but her tryst with a college-age Dustin Hoffman in “The Graduate” must predate the term by at least 35 years. Also, since Mrs. Robinson & Benjamin were a “May-December romance” made in Hollywood, Hoffman plays a 21-year-old, but at the time that the film was made, he was 30 years old and only six years younger than Bancroft in real life. Well, that’s fiction for you, but the general idea of an older woman seducing a college-age man has long been the stuff of fantasy. Much the same is true of the older man and the nubile, young piece of tail, right?

If you look it up online, “cougar” seems to commonly refer to a woman over 40 who “preys” on younger men who are typically in their 20’s. Personally, I find that the term seems to be morphing into a new definition where “cougar” simply means a fuckable older woman. Maybe we have Courteney Cox to thank for that, but I don’t think that the word carries as much of a negative stigma as it may have five or ten years ago. If I mention my involvement with a younger man, many of my friends will say “oh, are you a cougar?” I don’t think that anyone means it in a bad way or is suggesting that I am “preying” on some poor young fool.

When I first made my profile on Plenty of Fish, I had a lot of advice from a single female friend of mine who is also in her early 40’s. I spoke to her right before I launched my profile and she said “now you’re gonna have all the young guys hitting on you.” I was more than skeptical. I scoffed. She told me to wait & see – that the young guys love older women because there’s less drama. While I continued to be unconvinced, I thought about it a little bit more. Getting past my body image issues and general insecurity from not having dated in 20-some years, I could understand the appeal. Older women aren’t looking to settle down, get married, make babies, have someone pay their bills or take care of them. Most women over 40 are capable of taking care of themselves. Most older women don’t have the degree of angst, drama and maintenance that often comes with a woman in her 20’s. They don’t require a boyfriend to be available to them 24/7. They don’t get jealous if every minute isn’t spent with them. We have our own homes without roommates so we can “host” sexual escapades. Best of all, older women are experienced in the sack, near their sexual peak and generally love to be physical. Many of us can’t even get pregnant, so that’s a bonus too. Yes, these are all generalizations, but they are also generally true and I can certainly see the appeal. Still, I didn’t think that any young guys would be hitting me up. But my friend’s “wait and see” didn’t have to wait long.

I was driving home from one of my first meet-ups with a POF guy. This was the guy that I felt was “just friends” and who had only been separated for a couple of weeks. When my phone dinged telling me that I had a text, I assumed that it was my “safety friend” messaging to make sure I had made it home okay. It wasn’t. It was the 23-year-old son of some friends of mine who just happened to be texting me at 12:30am to see what was up. Huh. That’s odd. This is a kid I’d known since he was about 13 and would consider a friend of the family. He briefly dated my niece so I knew that the kid had a little bit of a kinky/exhibitionist streak from what she had told me. Because of that, I was slightly prepared for him to be a little risqué or flirtatious. He had, on occasion, messaged me on Facebook to chat from time to time as well, but sending a text – particularly so late, was new.

When I got in the house, we continued our conversation via Facebook chat. I mentioned that I had just come from a meet-up with someone and he asked how dating was going. I said it was very new and weird since I hadn’t dated in about as many years as he had been alive. He asked if I was doing online dating or how I was meeting people. He then made a comment that it was too bad that “my generation” didn’t just do what his does – hang out, hook up and chill. I said I had no idea what my generation does because it was all new to me. Then he said that if I wanted to do that with him sometime he’d be down.

What?

Wait. What? Back it up…did he just…what? Please, blog followers, imagine me sitting in front of the computer, in the dark, at 1:30 in the morning, literally YELLING at the screen “Shut the fuck up! Did that really just happen?” I was sure that Ashton Kutcher (a one-time cougar fan himself,) was going to jump out at any minute and tell me that I was being punked. Then my text notice bleeped again – with a photo from this guy. It’s him. Nearly naked – his bare torso covered with tattoos and his bedroom eyes staring pleadingly. The text said “could you handle looking at this?”

What the? Okay, okay…I guess I didn’t misread that.

The next message from him contained an apology for being so forward and said that he hoped that he didn’t make me feel uncomfortable. I finally managed to find some words and type a response saying that I was pretty stunned but not uncomfortable. He went on to say that he was looking through my photos and came upon a particularly voluptuous one of me in a certain dress and that I was really hot. He said that he wouldn’t mind fucking me in that dress. Okay, yeah. Message received. That was pretty direct. Yikes.

My mind was scrambling. I was still dying to have sex at that time and here was a young hard-bodied guy who was offering it. However, this is also someone that I still imagined riding a Razor scooter around the neighborhood. I know this kid’s parents and siblings, he knows my kids and my ex and he once slept with my niece. I could certainly imagine, but I couldn’t possibly imagine…!

Finally, I said thank you. I told him that his was the best offer that I had had in about six months and I really appreciated him being so sex-positive. I joked that I couldn’t imagine having sex with him and then looking his mom in the eye. He said “well, don’t tell my mom.” Jesus. He was tempting, to be sure, but I wasn’t willing to risk friendships or have my kids be the butt of scandalous jokes just so that I could get laid. We had a sweet, brief flirtation and ended the conversation…at least for then. We did exchange some dirty texts a few weeks later, but nothing that would have rocked the gossip network in the town I used to live in.

I still doubt that his mom would approve…

But wait! There’s more!

That particular week had been a tough one for me, emotionally. My ex and I had been going through the worst of the nastiness that goes with separating. I was finding the online dating scene to be daunting and a little bit weird. I felt detached from everything that I had once held dear – my home, my family – even my dog.

So I went to the casino. And I met this guy. And I will blog about him later. He was S46 and twice the age of the guy who made me my first official cougar offer. S46 bought me dinner and got my number and boy, wasn’t I having a better week with all this attention?

The next night, I was on Facebook again and received a message from a totally different 23-year-old. This guy is also the son of friends, though I haven’t known him since he was a pup like I did the other young guy. This guy would send me “pokes” on FB almost daily, but I never thought much about that. Some folks do that stuff. That particular night, however, he was more chatty than usual and I found myself once again on the receiving end of some serious flirtation with a very young guy. This one wasn’t as smooth or direct as the other, but he finally managed to get around to telling me that having sex with an older woman had always been on his bucket list. He followed that with “which reminds me, incidentally, I haven’t seen your new place yet. Heh.”

Holy shit. Have I just had three guys hit on me in the course of four days? And were two of them under 25? Yep.

I told this guy that he was the second 23-year-old to “hit me up” that week and that I told the first that I would keep it in mind, but wasn’t sure about fucking my friends’ kids. He then asked if I had come up with a policy about fucking my friends’ kids yet because he wanted to fuck me. Well jeezo man.

Admittedly, I was much more intrigued with youngster #2 and even went so far as to call his bluff a few times over the next few weeks of text messaging, flirting and a little bit of dirty talk. Mostly I think he enjoyed the texting and suggestive talk. He never took me up on it – even when I offered to pick him up. In retrospect, I’m glad. Months of no sex may have impaired my judgment. As it turned out, I started having pretty regular sex within a few weeks of the 23-year-old spree, so I am glad that I didn’t do anything foolish or embarrassing.

In general, while I would consider any adult, I’m not particularly interested in most people under the age of 30. The youngest that I have slept with in the past 6 months was S28 and he was pretty lame in the sack. P29 was gorgeous, fantastic, generous, dirty & delightful and I would see him again in a hot minute! R30 is both sweet and amazing in bed and someone that I am currently seeing. I’ve turned down offers from “men” as young as 18 and dated as old as 48. The average age of my post-marital lovers is 38, however – with only about 1/3 of them being older than I and two younger than 30.

So yes, I guess I am a cougar, but I’m not an ageist and I am willing to consider all shapes, sizes, races and ages…just maybe not my friends’ kids, huh?

 

05
Apr
13

set the way, way, way back machine…

Hiya kids – your naughty Auntie was working on a second post last night, but got an unexpected call from R30 who was feeling like he was ready to come off from injured reserve. He may be feeling differently this morning though! Lord knows I may never walk again and I just slept for almost 9 hours straight. I also cut my “no intercourse for a week” restriction short by about 12 hours, but I was finally feeling up to it and it had been 10 days since I’d had any and almost a month since I’d had R30 & his fantastic combination of tongue, adoration, stamina and cock. Four times almost killed me, but the man showed up with flowers and non-latex condoms, so you have to love that. Also, he still says thank you. 🙂 Now, back to my flashback Friday post…

I want to share something rather sweet that happened last week, but in order to give you the big picture I have to tell you something that will be a little bit bitchy. Furthermore, the person that I am writing about is a follower. Yep. That’s a new one for me too. I hope that if and when he reads this he will take it with the sense of humor with which it was intended.

So…let’s go waaaaayyyy back…to 1986. There was this bad boy…and I liked him a lot. But I was still kind of a good girl. It was the age-old tale of me trying to tame the bad-boy and not understanding why he didn’t love me enough to mold to my shitty, naive, young idea of what a perfect boyfriend would be. We kissed, we “went together”, we talked on the phone, we hung out but…that’s all. And he broke up with me right before junior prom. To his credit, he was very sweet about it and I had seen it coming for a long time. He was decent enough to suggest that we could still go to prom together since we had planned to, so we did, as friends. I don’t remember very much of the prom itself, but lots of photos show that we looked hot and I remember having fun and going to at least two after-parties that I was happy to be part of. I believe that wine coolers came into play at the second party and knowing us at the time, pot probably did too. He was a lovely escort and a gentleman, but  around five am he took me home and fucked me on the floor in my living room. He has the distinction of being the second person I ever had sex with and the first person to ever come on my stomach. But he was 16 and it can’t have been more than 5 strokes and it certainly wasn’t two minutes.

So it doesn’t count.

Because, based on this experience – which, until recently, I counted as my worst, sexually – I came up with a rule: “If it’s less than two minutes you don’t have to count it.” Over the years, this has been amended to “unless you get pregnant.” Seriously, this is something that I have shared with my niece and many girlfriends forever. “He was miserable in the sack.” “Oh? Well, you know the rule – if it lasts less than 2 minutes you don’t have to count it!” 🙂

Let’s be fair – the guy was 16 and I was smokin’ hot. At least he managed to get it in unlike B36, and managed to have the control to pull out – which was pretty responsible. Leastwise it was more responsible than I was at the time – I wasn’t using any form of birth control and was both clueless and very lucky! (Also, not nearly as slutty as I am now!) Also, I must add a side note of second-hand credit to the guy – a few years later one of my friends apparently had a brief affair with him when he was in his 20’s and counts it as the best sex she’s ever had. I know we have all improved since we were fumbling, clueless kids. God knows I didn’t have any idea how to suck a dick until years after my junior prom. Still, for me, it was the typical tale of the prom date who pulls out and leaves and pretty much never speaks to you again. Oh, there was awkward chatting at that one reunion 20 years later, but seriously, we didn’t talk again until Facebook.

Even with Facebook, we didn’t really catch up or have an actual conversation until last week when I messaged him about an ignorant anti-gay marriage post that someone had put on his wall. As it happened, he was online and a chat ensued. Credit to us being confident, comfortable grown-ass adults instead of insecure, clueless teens – it was really pleasant and fun. We discussed social issues and our shared feelings about equality and LGBT rights, we talked about kids – he said I was too cute to have adult children. Nice. We talked about marriage – challenges, successes and my somewhat recent single status. I shared how terrified I had been to split from my ex – who I love dearly & who will always be a part of my life and family – but how much better we are apart. I shared how scared I was to start dating again after 25 years as a BBW and how I was shocked to find that I was not only successful, that I was popular. To which he responded: “Of course you are popular. Good looking, intelligent, articulate the whole package.”

Holy shit. I’m a middle-aged woman who doesn’t need a man to validate me, but can I just say? My 42-year-old self and my 16-year-old self shared a little fist bump in that moment. Funny thing, the human psyche. I can barely remember dating this guy, but I clearly remember feeling “not good enough” when he dropped me and man, those insecurities hang on! I felt lighter after that – like I’d released some ages-old hurt that I had been hanging on to for 26 years. Is that weird? I dunno. Maybe it was just some sort of closure that we’d never had. Huh. It was certainly nice engaging in a funny conversation and remember this person that I once knew and liked. So much so, that I shared this blog with him and received a nice message about how much he enjoys it.

So here ya go, hun. You’ve been featured. I hope I’m not over-estimating your good humor. <—- That’s the friendly, real me line. The naughty Risqué Divorcée line goes like this: “so, do you cheat on your wife as much as you did on me back in the day?” 😉

04
Apr
13

one month – reflections & my first black guy…

Hey, thanks for reading, for following, for sharing. I really hope that you enjoy my stories. Sometimes it feels like I am just masturbating words here, but I do enjoy it. (The writing, that is. Oh, okay – I enjoy masturbating too, but let’s stay on topic!!) I decided to get on Twitter to cross-promote my blog and I don’t think I gained any blog followers as a result, but I found Twitter to be a really cool and interesting place. It’s sort of like your favorite bar where you most raunchy and funny friends hang out all the time and blow each other shit & say all sort of crude stuff. I love it! I feel like I fit right in but it’s also a bit cliquey and I find myself feeling somewhat dismayed when people don’t like what I tweet. I hate looking to others for validation – even though I do work hard to make people laugh – even in real life. I don’t have to prove anything to anyone here though, really. Yes, I write for humor and with an audience in mind, but this is my place. Of course, feel free to follow me on Twitter @risquedivorcee if you feel so inclined. I’ve been there about two weeks and have been blogging here for exactly one month today. Happy one month anniversary!

In honor of the occasion, I will share the story of my first black guy. The guy? Meh. The sex? Oh maaaaannnnn! Now, don’t get me wrong – I’ve seen and had some lovely big, white cocks too and I’m no “sizeist” – I’ll entertain a smaller cock. Easier to deep-throat, don’t give you a cramp in the jaw, might consider for ass play…but I do enjoy a nice, big cock. This one was probably the longest I’ve ever dealt with and had a decent amount of girth as well. Too bad it was attached to an ass.

N43 was someone that I chatted with for a pretty long time before meeting. We probably messaged on and off for three weeks before we finally managed to meet for a drink. We chatted about work-related stuff, kids, life – it wasn’t very sexual, but it was flirty. I was still in my “need dick” phase after having been disappointed by the teddy bear who didn’t quite make it in. I had other interests that were also engaging, but I was sort of excited by the prospect of getting my first taste of black cock.

Eventually we met at a pub – it was a bit too loud to talk and he was dressed a little too “casually” for a first meeting I thought. He seemed to not have made very much of an effort to pull himself together for me. We had some drinks and talked and he had a really annoying habit of saying “hah?” when he couldn’t hear me or didn’t understand me…which was often. He was cute enough, smelled good, had a great smile and lovely dimples, but mostly the conversation was dead in the water and I was not into it. When we went out to the parking lot, he got a little more physical with me – putting his hands on my hips, flirting. Eventually, the discussion turned to “so, what should we do now?” and “when do you have to work tomorrow?” Those are both cues for “want to fuck?” So I followed him home. (Yes, I let my friend know where I was going!) On the way, we stopped at a gas station because he needed to get something. I assumed that it was condoms. He came out with a bag in hand and we proceeded to his place.

At his apartment, he got the bag out and come to find out, it was a 40 oz. beer he had bought – for himself. He offered me no refreshment. He turned on the TV. We sat on the couch. I think Full House was on. What the hell? I don’t want to watch TV. I want you to seduce me and touch me and I want to ride your cock. It was so peculiar. I wonder if he thought he had to “ease” me into sex? If so, maybe he might have considered offering me a drink too, huh?

So strange was the scene that I finally asked if we could turn the TV off and maybe put on some music instead. He did so and also dimmed the lights because I didn’t really need all his neighbors seeing us on the couch – he had the shades open too. Oh, also – on the couch. I was never invited to a bedroom. Hmmmm. He was very laid back as things got going – he put his arm around me and we kissed a little bit. That was lovely – he had a great mouth which sadly did nothing more than kiss me above the waist, but the sex turned out to be really good. Also, he had a great body. Lithe and sinewy without being too bony or skinny. Yum. Oddly, we had barely been making out for a few minutes when I realized that he had his dick out of his pants. I mean, he hasn’t even made it to second base and he’s rounding home in his hand? Really? Weird.

I was anxious to get hold of his member, but I also wanted to make sure that I got to fuck it and not just suck it! So I basically whispered exactly that to him. His response? “Hah?” Ugh! I finally stopped being cute & cuddly, lifted my head off from him and said “I would like to suck your cock, but I want to make sure that I still get to fuck you.” BOOM! Read between the lines! Sheesh. Turns out, it wasn’t a problem. He had a good 10″ or so when fully erect. Not a ton of girth, but decent. With a slight curve toward his belly. Very, very nice. I gave him a little oral attention, but I was mostly interested in having him inside me, so I got out a condom because, no surprise, he hadn’t produced any when he went and got a towel to put on the sofa. We got the condom on his lovely, lovely dick and he soon slid into me from behind. Thank you, lord. So very nice. Exactly, exactly what I needed. And it was given to me three times! Three times! Very unexpected from a 43-year-old man. I would think that we were done and then he would just start right back up again. The second time the condom broke which really sucked. I think it simply couldn’t handle the mass plus fluid. Damn. Such a nice one.

After the sex, I was cleaning up and getting dressed as it was after 3am and I was about to do my very first walk of shame. 🙂 He then went into the kitchen and started cooking bratwurst. While still naked. He was a sight to behold walking around the kitchen with his beautiful ass and huge cock – even when flaccid. He explained that he was really hungry because he had skipped dinner to meet me. Well jeez, we met at a restaurant, guy. It was just a little strange still, but we did seem to be communicating better once we had fucked the sexual tension out of the room. Eventually, he walked me to the door (he had put on athletic pants, but that’s all) and kissed the back of my neck (swoon!) asking when he could see me again. I felt butterflies in my tummy and twat and said we would talk soon.

We arranged to have him come over on Sunday to watch football and that I would cook. It was pretty loose in that I told him to come over for the afternoon games, but I did cook and sent him directions and…he didn’t show or respond to texts. Hi, I’m offering you a day of food, football & sex and you don’t show? What man does that? Honestly, I think one with a girlfriend. I finally heard from him around 8pm. He texted apologies and said he had gone to church in the morning and wound up hanging out with his family. Okay, fine. I understand that stuff happens, but you do have a mobile cellular device, right? I said as much and he said I was right, he apologized and asked if I could forgive him. Okay, you get one mulligan because the sex was really fucking excellent. Come over tomorrow for Monday Night Football & leftovers. He even called me to re-send directions and we talked on the phone. Though I did question why he had deleted my text with my address and directions. What was up with that?  I told him that I was going to the store to get some drinks and asked if there was anything that he wanted. He purred “not yet.” Damn.

I reheated all the food and laid it out. I had the game recording on my DVR and I waited…and waited…

Finally I sent a text asking if he was lost, saying I was hungry and that it had to be nearly halftime. He responded with “oh, are you waiting on me, hun?” Yes. As discussed. Jeez. He told me not to wait and that he was finishing some stuff up at his place – which is like 35 minutes away anyway. I was livid. I said I was starting the game and eating. The next day, when he sent me a text, I said that I didn’t want to see him anymore because he was disrespectful of my time. He said he didn’t come because I seemed “cranky” – which I was after he’d stood me up the second time! Jeez! I told him to lose my number. Instead, he sent me “Happy Friday!” texts and “how are you” messages about three times a week for about six weeks. Often at 6-9am. Very passive-aggressive. I had at least learned not to respond – eventually they stopped. His POF account disappeared around the time that he stood me up the second time too. I have always imagined that he had a wife or girlfriend who found out about his extracurriculars and who made it difficult to get out to meet.

A few weeks ago, I noticed that he was on POF again with a new & different profile. I rolled my eyes a little bit and moved on. A couple of days later I got a message from him saying: “Hey you, how are you doing?”

Dangit – I’m doing a lot better than I was 7 months ago. If I didn’t think that there was something really sketchy and dishonest about you I would probably be good with giving you another tumble. Really. I’m not the kind of gal that you need to lie to. I can deal with wives, girlfriends, other women, other interests and responsibilities, etc. I don’t need the bullshit. In fact, the more I think about it, the more I realize that I would do a much better job of managing this guy now than I didn’t do back then! Hmmm, I guess it’s an option to keep open!

I will try to “double up” and post again tonight, my loves!

02
Apr
13

country music, nascar & uh, what?

I know I’ve been showing my snarky side a lot. It’s certainly a part of me that I feel comfortable letting loose a little bit here. Not only is this blog akin to a diary or private journal to me, but I find snark to be a bit more entertaining for my “readership” so to speak. Okay, I know I only have like 20 followers, but who knows? Maybe one day I’ll get a book deal out of this bitch! 🙂 Humor & being a bit over-the-top has always been a means of surviving and fighting through challenges and hurt in my life. BUT – BUT – BUT – I’m actually a really nice person. I have long held the belief that when it comes to dating and people in general that everyone deserves a chance beyond first impressions. I know that people have off days, but I also recognize intrinsic value in people. Maybe you’re a janitor, overweight, scarred, damaged, have a lisp or even an illness or disability – this shouldn’t define you as a person. People have lots of experiences and circumstances that bring them to different places in their life and I may not want to walk a mile in their shoes, but I’ll usually give them a shot and see what they’re about. I believe in being kind – at least until I have reason to tell you to fuck off.

This has been a bit difficult to manage in the online dating world. A lifetime of focusing on the needs & wants of other people has trained me to let go of things pretty quickly – even if they bother me. I also have a hard time saying no. I’m learning to do it, but very, very early in my online dating experience I wasn’t great at it. I mean, online dating is an interesting thing – you read someone’s profile, you have mutual interests and attraction, you message, you decide to meet and you have hope about what might happen next. There’s a big build up with lots of expectation. So once you meet and you don’t hit it off…how do you say that? It’s a tough one. 

Here’s a real story about how I wimped out on saying no and wasn’t as honest as I should probably have been. It’s one of those situations where I ignored all the little things that I wasn’t so thrilled about and continued an interaction with someone just because he was reasonably nice and articulate. Eventually all the little things that I was willing to be flexible and open-minded about piled up to be an overwhelming load of “oh God, no.”

So, J36 was one of the first people from POF that I gave my phone number to. It was still early days for me with the online dating scene. I was still looking for a booty call and getting a sense of who and what was out there that was interested in me. I hadn’t quite mastered saying no, being firm & direct and, perhaps most importantly, ignoring people that I really wasn’t interested in. I really was trying to give everyone a fair shot. This guy was complimentary, articulate, could spell and carry a messaging dialogue. He wasn’t my physical type – a little too scrawny & angular, a bit rough around the edges. Proximity-wise he was a bit further than I wanted. Oh, yeah…and he loved country music and NASCAR. Ick. But c’mon, I love football and opera. I don’t expect us to be exactly alike. I wouldn’t blow someone off because they liked hip-hop and hockey, would I? (Golf, maybe – not hockey.) I was trying not to be elitist and make generalizations involving Wal-mart and cousin fucking.

After we had messaged for awhile, we finally exchanged numbers. Right away he asked me to send him some pictures for his phone avi of me. Okay, I did that. He said I was beautiful. I’m willing to overlook the fact that he’s a seasonal landscaper who’s not actually working in August. Riiiight? The little negatives are piling up and yet…he’s nice. And we’ve been talking for awhile now…and have been discussing getting together for a drink…

After the picture exchange, however, I received a long text from J36 giving me a list of other caveats. He “just wanted to be honest” and let me know that he is currently living in his mom’s basement, that he smokes – but only Marlboros and that he doesn’t have any teeth. He understands if this is a problem for me. He just wanted to be honest.

Now, here’s the thing. Part of me was laughing because I know that this will one day be a fantastic story to tell. However, there was a big part of me that felt really guilty – like if I rejected him now – for living in his mom’s basement and having no teeth (or job, or money to meet me for a drink, or taste in music,) then I was an asshole. Looking back, I realize that I was sort of manipulated. He could have been a lot more honest in his dating profile to begin with. I felt like I had been leading him on when in fact, to some extent, the opposite was true.

This is something that I would probably address more directly now, but back then – 7 months ago – I felt like I owed him courtesy and respect and I didn’t want to hurt his feelings. So I did something sort of crazy. I wrote him a message telling him all about what was wrong with me that made us a bad match. I may have been a little bit tipsy. I may have gone slightly over the top.

Basically, I thanked him for his honesty and said that I was honored by it and also compelled to be honest myself. I hate NASCAR. Not only do I hate NASCAR, I am personally offended by it because of its devastating environmental effects, the misogyny, the waste. It’s also not a sport. I feel very strongly about the environment, politics, gay marriage, Obama. I almost made my POF handle “Obama2012” but thought it might get dated. (Ignore the pun.) I am so liberal that I am really a Socialist. I mean, for God’s sake, I drive a Prius. And country music sounds like cats fucking – cats that are related. 

I took it way over the top. I wanted him to run screaming. His response? “I just wanted FWB.”

Then he persisted in asking if we could be friends with benefits.

No, dude. We have nothing in common – starting with the fact that you live in your mom’s basement and have no teeth.

He persisted for months. I mostly ignored him, but it felt really rude. The mistake I made was being kind and responding one day when he asked if we could get together. I politely declined and he called me a tease saying that I had led him on those 4 months prior. Screw that. I had given him a shot – he had been misleading and led me on. I really, really didn’t owe him anything just because we had had a few conversations. I still had the right to say no, thank you!

I was honestly glad that he called me a tease because it gave me full leave to blow him off guilt-free. I basically said “yep, that’s exactly it. You’re right. You win. Fuck off.”

He messaged me again about 10 days ago asking why I wouldn’t talk to him.

Jeez. It doesn’t pay to be nice. Be honest. Be bold. Be selective. Be mean if they don’t take no for an answer.

I’m still working on it.

 

02
Apr
13

It Started With an “Unusual Request” then got interesting…

Sometime last fall, I received a rather interesting message on Plenty of Fish from a man who was…handsome enough to make me cautious. He didn’t have a photo associated with his public profile, but I require one in order to message me. His one photo showed a handsome guy, small in stature, with salt & pepper hair, slightly Italian/ethnic features, a sexy, stubbly beard and a good body.  He was so attractive as to make me question whether his was a legitimate profile or maybe some sort of scam. Too pretty, you know? (I am nothing if not cautious.) He expressed an interest in me and said that he had a very particular request. I thought “oh boy, here’s the part where it gets fucked up…” and cautiously encouraged him to go ahead and ask. Worst case, I say no. No harm, no foul.

His response comes promptly and he has a very specific desire. He wants to pleasure me. That’s all. He would like to rub my feet, touch me, massage me, taste me and make me cum for as long as I can take it. He doesn’t expect to have intercourse or for me to do anything other than to enjoy what he does to me. All he asks is that I be freshly showered and open to him pleasuring me.

Shut up.

This has to be a scam, right?

I find myself both suspicious and…cautiously intrigued. I tell him that I’m not sure that I would be comfortable with that. I say that I usually like to get to know someone a little bit before I am comfortable enough to be intimate with them. I ask questions: what do you get out of this? What about your gratification? Why me, specifically? He responds by saying that he would do whatever I wanted to make me comfortable. All I have to do is tell him what that is. He says that he is very gratified by satisfying someone else and that he has two other lovers that take care of his physical needs, but he is looking for someone that is willing to do this for him. He chose me because he prefers my body type – curvy, voluptuous, womanly, juicy, responsive. This is what he likes. This is what he wants. I’m beautiful and he would love to pleasure me, but only if I am comfortable.

I basically blew him off. While admittedly intrigued, I couldn’t quite wrap my head around the notion of someone that good looking wanting nothing more than to…make me cum a lot. I mean, really – I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. At what point would this guy tell me what his hourly rate was to perform said services? Because that’s what he looked like – a gigolo. And what he proposed was decidedly unusual compared to about 97% of men that I knew of. My suspicions and bullshit meter overruled any degree of intrigue and interest that I had. I thought about it, but I did nothing more.

Several days later, I got another message from him. He wondered if I had given anymore thought to his proposal and if there was anything that he could do to make me feel more comfortable. Instead of being pushy or pressuring me, he got conversational. This actually served to make me comfortable. We talked about family, games, Star Wars & sci-fi, tattoos – just general getting-to-know-you-type chat. I found that I related to him on a human level and I felt comfortable opening up to him about my history and reservations concerning his proposal. Which were pretty significant.

I explained that I had been with my ex since I was a teenager and that he really didn’t care for giving oral. This caused me to be not only inexperienced at receiving oral pleasure, but insecure about it. Because he didn’t like it, the ex wasn’t good at it (something I now understand better given recent experience,) and he acted like it was a nasty chore that he had to do a couple of times a year – like cleaning the garage. Try being uninhibited when your lover seems to be holding their breath just to “get through with it” and making a face the whole time. I don’t want to be mean, it just wasn’t his thing and therefore, I was inexperienced. It made me feel awkward, exposed, vulnerable. My default feeling when receiving it was somewhat shameful, gross and “hurry up” rather than beautiful, desirable, eatable, fuckable, juicy. Unsurprisingly,  it was very difficult for me to come from oral – I had finally had someone who liked it and even requested it when we opened up our marriage six years before we split. That was the first time that I had ever been able to orgasm from a man going down on me. Cunnilingus had managed to become something that I fantasized about but that also caused me a little bit of anxiety and discomfort.

Also, I had really spent most of my life taking care of other people – from my siblings through the illness and death of a parent, to my spouse, my kids, my family – even friends & lovers. I was often the caregiver and it was tough for me to be the selfish one. I loved being the center of attention, sure, but it seemed to be something that I clamored for rather than settled into. Lying back and enjoying wasn’t really my MO.

Knowing this and having a pretty clear understanding of my influences, fears & motivations made me all the more interested in trying to challenge myself with this tantalizing request. There was still a feeling like this might just be too good to be true, but I was becoming increasingly comfortable with the guy & he was willing to meet for a drink to see how we got along before even considering bedroom activities. Okay, I think I can do this. Since it was an exercise in expanding my comfort, I didn’t even treat it like a date and may have added a casual aloofness that made my new friend (S42 – let’s call him “Suave”) even more interested in me. We agreed to meet for a drink as soon as the playoff game that I was watching was over. It ran late, I was running late – we changed venues to my neighborhood because of a football game. I kept him waiting. He got there a little before I did but was in the bathroom when I arrived, so I saw him walk into the room. He was a little bit short (as indicated in his profile,) but oh my God he was stunning. I mean – Calving Klein underwear model stunning. No kidding. His picture didn’t do him justice. Full lips, bedroom eyes, “good bone structure” to his face. Light beard – the fashionable and sexy kind – mostly white hair brushed back in that stylish/messy/effortless way. Not an ounce of fat to be seen on his compact body. Really. He was wearing jeans, a t-shirt and a light jacket and I was thinking that he just looked too good to be real. His sunglasses added to the sexy impact and I found myself once again wondering how this could be legitimate and if it was – what I did to deserve such a karmic gift.

He bought me a drink. I opted for a martini. I needed the booze to center myself and calm my nerves. He had a white wine. We talked. It was relaxed. I liked him. As our “not date” progressed I found little moments of surprising affinity – like this was supposed to be a dark & dirty emotionless hookup but we kept laughing and agreeing and would glance up and smile like “oh, we like each other – hi.” It was really interesting. I mean, we’re the same age and had similar backgrounds & interests. We talked about our jobs and families, childhoods, parental disapproval, etc. His parents are Italian and Mexican respectively and his dad is disappointed that he is not married and settled with kids. His mom is recently divorced and living alone for the first time. We share this commonality. I have a feeling that he generally doesn’t get this personal with women that he wants to “service.” I feel like we’ve broken a rule and are forging new ground. We like each other.

The third time the bartender checks back to see if we want another round, he settled the tab. I invite him to my place. He follows me home. He’s great at being relaxed and calm. He can direct and lead without being pushy. It’s a gift. We sit. In the living room on separate pieces of furniture. He makes it casual. Comfortable. Relaxed. He’s not draping himself over me on the couch – he’s sitting in that chair – looking at me and talking to me. I do a shot of chocolate vodka & tell him that I’m infused with liquid courage and ready to try this. He asks if we should go to the bedroom. We should.

I light candles & we put on some music. He asks me to get comfortable. I take off my boots. He rubs my feet. I say that I would be more comfortable without my jeans on. He suggests that I should lie on my stomach so that he can give me a massage if that’s okay. Yup.

Oh my God, he feasts on my body. Slowly. Deliciously slowly. My feet, my toes, my knees. He smells the flesh behind my knees. He breathes me in, inch by inch. He delights in ALL of me. Eventually, achingly slowly, he works his way up to my ass. He rubs, smells, gently bites. He plants his face between my legs and just breathes. The moisture of his breath mingles with mine. The anticipation is an ache – but now that I’m relaxed, pliant & willing he doesn’t make me wait. He asks permission…he pulls cotton & lace aside. And goes the hell to town. Jeeeeeeeeezus. The man lives & breathes pussy & orgasms.

At some point in my muzzy haze of cumming repeatedly I realize that he’s taken his shirt off. I mean, that’s the kind of serious business he’s down to down there – since he’s in up to his shoulders he apparently doesn’t want to get his shirt messy! I should point out that I am being thoroughly worked over by tongue, teeth, fingers & face but I think I came again when I saw this man without his shirt. Holy hell. Did I say underwear model? He was RIPPED – arms, shoulders, back, abs. I have never been with anyone whose body was so sculpted. Ye gads!

After a few thousand orgasms I finally let him know that I needed a break. I was flooded – overwhelmed, exhausted, spent & satiated. I do still have a preference for actual vaginal penetration in bringing me off and I would have loved to ride his cock for awhile, but that wasn’t part of our deal. While we were lying back on the bed catching our breath, however, I heard the sound of his belt being unbuckled and looked over to see him loosening his pants. Oh, okay. I guess he was aroused after all. That’s kind of nice, right? Good feedback, hmmm?

Mr. Suave is now very subtly rubbing one out and I reach over and encourage him to take his dick out. Oh boy – oh wow, it’s a beauty. I help him get it out and offer a little assistance. Taking him in my mouth seems to be the least I can do for this man who left my lying in a puddle of my own girl goo. He responds very positively to my sucking his dick but there’s a sense that he’s holding back a bit. Maybe this was simply because we were “breaking the rules” of our arrangement. I don’t know. It felt like we’d already gone from this…indecent proposal to…a sort of interesting affection & commonality. It already felt like the rules of engagement had been broken…

I turn my full attention to his rather lovely cock. He hasn’t even really taken it all the way out of his pants. It’s as if he knows that he’s not “supposed” to. I have a hard time articulating his hesitation. Everything between us had been very organic, comfortable, natural – even fun & friendly – unexpectedly so. Now here we are, two adults who are really attracted to each other and interested in each other as people and…he doesn’t seem to want to impose. I would really like him to impose. I suck his dick and cup his balls. He moans and arches his hips, but after a few thrusts he pulls my head back and instructs me to just use my hand. We finish him off in a sort of hand-over-hand fashion & I clean him up with a towel. We both get dressed, he thanks me saying it was perfect & says that he hopes that we can do it again sometime soon. Okay. Okay. Okay.

Seriously – as he leaves me in my robe, barely able to stand from the jiggle legs, I watch this incredibly beautiful man walk away and think that this is essentially what it must feel like to have just been serviced by a professional male prostitute. Seriously. He was that pretty and it was that good and focused so much on me and my pleasure. I HATE that I still had a little niggling voice in my head that wanted to know “what’s the catch?” I actually wondered if maybe this was a new gigolo technique stolen from the drug dealers – the first taste is free & then you’re addicted! It was spectacular, but there was still a little something that seemed slightly…off…I decided to chalk it up to my insecurities, his physical beauty, his very specific “kink” and the fact that we were new together. Essentially, I talked myself out of it & decided I would just enjoy it without hyper-analysis!

And that, my sweeties…is my first cliffhanger…because there is more to this story, much more. I promise to write about it very soon, but this entry is already huge and the rest of the story is a tale unto itself!

STAY TUNED!

01
Apr
13

april fools & year-round fools

Boy I do love a creative quip, a bad pun, a well-crafted joke – wit and humor are extremely attractive qualities. They demonstrate intelligence, the willingness to laugh at yourself, not taking things too seriously and also confidence and comfort. I find smart, funny men to be sexiest of all – especially if they have a beard, pony tail and big cock. Oh man, did I start to sound shallow there at the end? Sorry.

Because I like humor and recognize the absurdity, discomfort & potential stress level of first approaches and first meetings, I don’t mind a slightly corny pick-up line. I would prefer someone engage in actual conversation, but goofy and creative approaches will often get a smile and my attention. (But then I’m a lot nicer in person than I am on this blog. 😉 )

So, in honor of April Fool’s Day and all the many fools out there, I am presenting some of the worst pick-up lines that I have received in the past months. Many of these are copied & pasted. No kidding!

  • Hi, I’m a computer. Can I crash at your place?
  • A great thing that happened to me today: I ran into you here.
  • You must have lasers in your eyes because you’ve stunned me.
  • I would really like to eat my cum out of your pussy.
  • Do you want to see a good looking person? Then look in the mirror!
  • I lost my number. Can I have yours?
  • Wouldn’t you and I look cute together on top of a wedding cake?
  • If I could change the alphabet I would put U and I together!
  • I like you, and i want you. Now we can either do this the easy way, or the hard way. The choice is yours…. lol.
  • What’s your story?
  • Why is a good looking person like you still single?
  • Why aren’t you in jail? It’s illegal to look that good.
  • What’s one great book you’ve recently read?
  • Great curves love a big butt and enormous boobs. Mmmmm…
  • We have similiar interests that may make us matchable..Can I get a name?
  • Do you have long toes?

Those are all 100% legitimate and received by me. I left out the worst ones – the guys that just send their phone number with the expectation that you’re going to jump right into the sexting and dick pics.

Speaking of dick pics – I had been messaging for a couple of weeks on POF with a guy who claimed to be “shy” and was looking for new friends in my area. His story was that he was moving to the Pacific Northwest from Southern California because his ex had moved his children up here. He will be moving in the next few months – wants to meet people, make friends, get to know the area. Okay, we had pleasant enough chats, agreed to meet for a drink when he gets to town, etc. Then one night, out of the blue, he messages me his number and asks “are you a good flirt?” Hmmm…I wasn’t quite sure what that meant – maybe code for dirty messaging, but we’d established some rapport, I was willing to see what he had in mind. After a busy weekend, I got a message from him saying “text me, brat!” Okay, kinda cute, right? I say I don’t want to start a text conversation at 1:15am that I am just heading to bed. He says it’s the perfect time for him but “ok, gn dollface.”

The next night, I sent him a text around 12:40 am and said “okay, how about starting a text exchange at 1am tonight?” No response. Eeep. Probably too late. But he texts me back at 6:20am and says “how about now?” He woke me up after 3 hours sleep and I was cranky! I said no, I was going to sleep longer & please don’t text before 9am or after 12am unless by mutual consent. He responded: “what are you? A gremlin?” I said “yes!” and explained that I had gone to bed late. He said “sorry I bothered you” so I wanted to make it clear that I wanted to talk to him, just not at 6am. I said “No, I’m sorry that I didn’t explain that boundary…another time!” He says “I don’t think so. Find someone else. Toodles.” Um, what? I pissed you off? This is someone who approached me and persisted in messaging me and who had been really personable. Okay, whatever. Oh well.

Last night, after Easter dinner with my ex and kids – while still with my ex at his house, I got a text from the “California Shy Guy.” Oh, wait – I and 11 others got a group MMS message from him. With a 10-second video of him stroking his meat. Not so shy, huh? But what is this? Group sext? Does he not realize that he just sent us all each others phone numbers and gave us the ability to reply all? Thankfully, nobody replied and the thread seems to have died but what the HECK? You present yourself as a shy guy who is moving in order to stand up for his kids and then…you message a dirty dozen your whack-a-mole video?

Weird, weird, weird. I’m sorry that I deleted so many of my “fools” and goofy messages. I’ll try to think of some others to share. Meanwhile, be careful – someone switched the salt & sugar!