Pandemic Playfulness

I started the day yesterday with a bit of a cry. I didn’t have any specific trigger, but just felt fear, anger, grief and anxiety bubbling up out of my chest. During these times of social seclusion, I find myself desperately missing people, but after looking at the news and social media? I’m also extremely disappointed with many people and feel a lot of rage. It’s possible to crave something and hate it at the same time. (Insert your own metaphor for unhealthy relationships here.)

Feeling weepy and sad, I told my partner that I wanted to escape to some water and let the sound of waves soothe me. He agreed that if I could find an Airbnb that I felt was safe enough, that we could get away for a few days. I forgot that it’s a holiday weekend. I was unsuccessful. But just the act of looking at soothing spaces was a comfort.

We spent another banal day in isolation. Cooking, video games, a little cleaning, social media, an inordinate amount of TV watching. We went to bed far later than we should have. Same ol’, same ol’.

We found each other in the muted light of dawn.

You’d think we were too old for fooling around at 4 am, but apparently not. (It used to be that when the hair tie went on, it was time for some serious action! Now, when that c-pap machine comes off, you know it’s time to get busy!)

Stroking, soothing, sucking, kissing, playing, teasing, comforting, loving. As my body responded and my heart swelled, I giggled. In the middle of a hungry, open-mouthed kiss, he stopped. Looked at me.

“What’s up, babe?”

Smiling, I shook my head, and we returned to each other.

I laughed again.

Concerned, he stopped and said “what’s wrong? Am I tickling you?”

I had to take a moment to think. A couple of heartbeats to consider. Then I responded.

“I’m just happy. I have so much love and joy inside me, that it’s bubbling out of my chest. I am so glad to be here, in this moment, with you, that I have to laugh at how lucky I am.”

“We’re both lucky” he agreed, before returning to taste and plunder.

Just as overwhelming grief had flooded me at the beginning of the day, overwhelming joy had done at the end. Yes, the world is in chaos, people are suffering and dying, many are facing financial devastation, and an unknown future. But in the wee hours of the morning, in the arms of a man that loves, adores, supports, and thrills me, I felt thankful. We have a roof over our heads, food and money enough to sustain us, and health insurance. Our family is safe and reasonably healthy, and we are together.

During these crazy times, sometimes there are tears, sometimes there is laughter, and sometimes they show up at the same time. Through it all, I can honestly say: thank God that dick still works! 🤣

Stay safe, friends!




Not the kind of dick I prefer…

I just sent a demand letter to my ex-spouse.

I’ve never run a marathon, but I think what I am feeling right now might be similar to what someone might feel having just qualified to run Boston – empowered, powerful, free, successful…terrified as hell, sick to your stomach, scared to death by the challenges and hard work that lie ahead.

Yeah, I have butterflies…and not the good kind. I’m walking around the house alternately doing a little dance or fist pump and bending over to hyperventilate. Because I know that I am unleashing the Kraken. I know the other shoe is going to drop. I know he is going to lose his shit. And yet, in my MIND – which much smarter than my stomach, heart and adrenal gland – I KNOW that I have the upper hand. I KNOW that I have a superior bargaining position. I KNOW that I am well within my RIGHTS to protect myself and my finances and NOT allow him to screw me again. Literally or metaphorically. (Especially not with that tiny wiener and wham-bam style!)

During the last four years since we separated, I wanted the term “amicable divorce” to be a real and true fact. I tried my best to honor our marriage and family by not talking shit about my ex and not allowing others to do so either. I defended him, I forgave him and I took a very minimal divorce settlement in order to maintain peace, harmony and family. I made sure to project that image and maintain that cordiality and friendship even during challenging times.

Then he stopped making payments and told me to “have a nice life.”

Then he got served with foreclosure paperwork for the house we still own together.

Then he asked for my help in going together to settle with the bank.

…on a house that I don’t live in.

…for a house I haven’t lived in in 4 years.

….for a man who makes about 6 times as much as I do.

 Oh yes, and could you stop being so childish and asking for silly things like the file and paperwork pertaining to the case? You don’t need that. Why do you need your own attorney? I’m offering to pay for an attorney. Why won’t you answer my 5 phone calls in a row and 8 texts sent before 9:30 am on Saturday? Are you going to continue to be difficult because you are upset?

This is not the kind of dick I prefer!

I worked hard, served my time, put up with a lot, sacrificed and then sacrificed again for the good of my family.

Now I’m going stone cold bitch for the good of myself.

I told him I would be happy to work on the bank settlement with him as soon as he paid me the balance he owes me in cash because his credit is no good with me. Otherwise, I will gleefully drag this out another year then declare bankruptcy and leave him responsible for the full debt, any tax liability that might result from a deficiency being forgiven and substantial attorney fees. I’m told that the bank will not be willing or able to settle the case if I say I want to go to trial.

After nearly three decades of being charmed, bullied or manipulated into doing what this man wanted me to do, it feels really good to put my foot down.

After all, isn’t that how you win a marathon?


being smart & safe while being slutty…

A local woman was murdered last week, her body recovered in a dumpster, and a man that she met online has been arrested for the crime. I’m reblogging this SAFETY reminder in her honor. Dating is fun, but listen to your gut and your head as well as your heart! Be SAFE!


Use condoms.

There. Now we all know how to have safe sex, don’t we? (Although in my new, multi-partnered life I have been somewhat shocked to find how few people actually do regularly practice safe sex. Many just rely on the “drug & disease free” assurances of strangers. They must not have grown up in the AIDS-scare 80’s like I did!)

I’m not talking about safe sex though. I’m talking about safe dating. I mean, it’s a big risk to put yourself out there and be willing to meet new people and allow yourself to be judged and vulnerable in the first place. But what about sharing personal information? What about not winding up in someone’s trunk? And, in a slightly less hysterical vein, how do we avoid those 6am texts from guys that we wish we had never exchanged numbers with?

No, really. Tell me. :-/

I freely admit…

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Me a Pushy Mom? Surely not!

I know that if I have any followers still out there that they probably just did a spit-take to see me posting my first blog entry in a year and a half! I know I need to do some updating about me and MY love life, but I decided to go with a topic that I’ve been pondering today: my life as a mom.

It’s a bit of a weird thing being a mom of adult children. You want to give them their space, freedom and autonomy, but you also want them to call and come over for dinner. You want them to hug you and say I love you. On some level, you also want them to appreciate you! I mean, you did devote your entire life to them, right? Not to mention the baby weight, stretch marks, wrecked vagina and the hundreds of times you picked up the tab, bought them shit, slipped them a few bucks for gas, helped them move and supported them without question. It’s what parents do and I have no regrets, but when I divorced, relationships changed. Holidays changed. Traditions changed. Even though they were adults, the divorce impacted my children.

So I went from having daily contact with people that I shared a house with to having them live in different cities. It’s an adjustment. Also, the longer that I am apart from my ex, the more I notice the qualities that I don’t much like about him. (You know, the stuff that led to our divorce!) The little ways that he overreacts, how he can be narcissistic and selfish and how he often ignores the suggestions, opinions and feelings of others – including myself and our kids. Recently, I have noticed some of these qualities in one of my sons. Neither my ex nor my son is a particular asshole – they are both pretty decent guys in general. Lately, however, my son has been really short with me and get a lot of reactionary attitude from him. It’s like he’s become the moody teenager that he never was as a teenager. We haven’t had a major fight or anything, but there have been a few times when he has said something to me that seemed unnecessarily harsh and stung.

His hostile remarks seem to be inconsistent too – which makes them all the more hurtful because they are unexpected from my normally happy-go-lucky man-child. In general, we have a pretty good relationship, but I think that I sometimes need to realize that because I am MOM that my words carry more weight than just a friend. Comments that I would normally make to friends and other people may be more cutting and impactful because I am the mama. And I guess that’s because I’m important which is cool.

Several months back this particular kid had a rough split from his very long-term high school and college girlfriend. Interestingly, he found himself in a very similar situation to what mine was a few years ago – having been coupled since teen-dom and not having dated in ages. I’ve watched him through his recovery from the break-up. I’ve tried to be supportive without being intrusive and I have been delighted when he has wanted to share tidbits about his feelings. He struggled with finding out that his ex was dating a mutual friend of theirs and then he struggled with dating. He was seeing someone for a little while but admitted that he was having intense feelings for her far too early in their relationship. We talked about how all he had known his entire dating life was how to be in a committed, monogamous, long-term relationship. I told him that there was nothing wrong with being loyal and committed but that he didn’t know how to date casually because he had never done it before. I told him that I understood because I had been in the same place after his dad and I split up. I encouraged him to talk to the girl about it. I suggested that he use his humor to say something like “you’ll have to forgive me and maybe we need to have a signal if I get too intense. I was part of a couple for so long that I need training in how to just chill with someone…” We had some good talks and he was really positive and receptive about my suggestions. Yay!

I work really hard not to overstep boundaries with my kids. I am learning that just because they are adults now, I can’t apply the same degree of raunchy flippancy and sarcastic humor to my conversations (and texts) with them as I would with friends. Coming from mom, sarcastic becomes “passive aggressive” and cheeky becomes “guilt-trippy” and anything remotely racy becomes “inappropriate” or “God, mom! No!” I’m exaggerating just a little bit, but not a lot. As I said, I try to keep that parental impactfulness in mind and tread lightly most of the time.

The other day, however, I forgot to use my filter. Alcohol may have been involved. So here’s where I need your option of how horrible I am on the parent scale. Because I feel like I went full cliché on the meddling mom scale. I was out at a bar where my man was shooting pool with his team which includes a younger gal that I’ve met a couple of times but never really talked to. That night we sat at the same table, talked a lot, hit it off, laughed. She’s super cute and near the end of the evening I asked her how old she was. She told me and then said “why do you ask?” I said I wondered if she was an appropriate age to fix up with my son. (She is – she’s 3 years older than he is.) I basically said that I thought that they would hit it off and before I even showed her his photo she wrote her number on a bar coaster and gave it to me (adding to the cliché,) and suggested that the four of us should go out sometime. She even told me what days she has off. I was mostly just curious about her age, I didn’t have any big plan in mind, but when she responded so enthusiastically, I was whipping out my phone and showing pictures and talking about how tall my kid is. After sending him three texts about it on the way home, I started to have that “oh shit, what did I do?” feeling…

What do you think?

Am I the worst mother in the whole entire world?



The “After” Myth

There is no “after” there’s just before & now! We are always rediscovering ourselves & transitioning to the next “now”!

Can Anybody Hear Me?



It’s here.

In my first post, Before, 3 years ago, I said “I’m not to After yet, but I’m closer to After than to Before.”

I now weigh 117 – 120 pounds (depending on the day), and standing at 5-foot 6-inches, that measurement means that After is very, very here. But, before you congratulate me, dear readers…if I have any…and dear friends and family who I know follow this blog… I have to come clean with you: I don’t feel like I’m at After. I’m terrified of being at After. And, I don’t like that After is here.

After5 2

The tagline of my blog is “uncovering myself one pound at a time.” For most of this blog, I’ve spoken strongly about how my relationship with food and myself was what caused my weight struggles. I stand by that. The thing is, the symptoms have resolved faster than I’ve been able to…

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People you may know…

The Huffington Post‘s “Gay Voices” section recently ran an article about how Facebook is using our personal information to try to “suggest” friends that we may still be trying to forget about – those folks we hooked up with a time or two awhile back…our one-night-stands!

I saw the piece linked on Facebook with the header “has this happened to you lately?” Oh my, yes. At first, it was really startling to see the face and real name of my first black guy – and recall my first walk of shame. He was the second guy I slept with after my separation and I would never have put up with his nonsense and games if I hadn’t been so desperate to get laid properly! As it was, I didn’t put up with him for long and he did get a little “stalkerish” even after I’d told him to lose my number. I like to think that I have a bit more taste and self-respect now and would never go home with this guy because he really personified the cliche of guys who “only want one thing” but the fact of the matter is, at the time, I hadn’t had good sex in years and had only had any sex twice in the previous 18 months – once with the guy who came before he got it in & showed no interest in my satisfaction (identified as B36 in this blog entry,) and once with my ex husband. I feel like I made a decision to choose sex over self-respect in that case and I don’t really regret it. However, it was a shock to see this guy in my “people you may know” feed on Facebook. The only contact I had with him was on Plenty of Fish and by cell phone. Which data did they collect? My cell phone contacts or people I communicated with on my POF phone app? Either way? A little scary & something to think about.

Incidentally, in writing this post today, I went back and actually searched for that guy on Facebook and he doesn’t even come up. Perhaps he saw me and hit block? Fine by me.

Just the other day I had a double shock when two men that I had dated some time ago showed up in the #1 and #2 positions on my “people you may know” on Facebook. One was the married guy that I saw regularly for four months. I realize that I covered the story of how we met  in a blog entry, but I never really wrote about the rest. The fact that he was perfect in many regards – a regular fuck buddy in the early days of my dating & being on my own – not a demand on my time, but a regular pleasure in my bed. At some point, things got a bit too involved – feelings developed on both sides and intensity happened. He played a “push pull” game where he would give and demand and absorb and then act like it was “just fucking” and remind me that he was married – despite the fact that I never demanded anything from him at all. He was the one who said I was like a man when it came to sex – precisely because of my lack of wanting anything other than the sex. Basically, he was the one who was insecure and wanted more, but he would turn it around like I was the one doing so. He would write me huge emails about his feelings or text obsessively then tell me that he wasn’t attracted to me & remind me that it was “just sex.”  He would say we could never kiss…then one day kiss me as passionately as anyone ever has. He had a problem with booze and didn’t seem to like himself very much. He liked to challenge and tease me and used to see how far he could push it before I got really annoyed. One day that involved biting during sex. Playful biting became rough biting. My “no” became a challenge and he bit me hard –  on the face. The second time he bit my face, I fought him and kicked him. We had a scary moment where I realized “this is how sexual assault happens” and then we both took a breath, he got dressed and left. He told me that if he left he was never coming back. I said that was fine. It’s been about two years and he hasn’t been back. Honestly, I think it was good to rip the band-aid off when we did. While the episode between us left me shaken, it also allowed for a clean break – and I think it was time.

Five months after the night he left, “married guy” sent me an email to see how I was doing. I told him that I was seeing someone that I really liked and we exchanged a few “glad you are doing well, take care” emails. Good. Basically, it let him know that there wasn’t room for him in my life right now but that I didn’t harbor any ill will. I’m just over it. My life has moved forward.

Ironically, this guy who so often did protest too much – used to act all secretive like I was going to stalk him or tell his wife or something – has his Facebook account wide open. I almost want to send him a friend request just to shake him up a little bit. But I won’t. I’ll just smile thinking about it here.

In his case, we did use email to communicate as well as phones. However, it was a different email address than the one I use for Facebook, so I think that once again, my phone may be responsible for sharing my personal information.

The fellow who showed up second in my “people you may” list is less surprising because we have friends in common. He’s the one that I called “Dancing Doctor Who” and who was downright obsessive about cooking. He also didn’t like to have his penis sucked, climaxed in German, was my first OKCupid Meetup, lived in a Harry Potter closet and turned out to have mutual friends with. I think we wound up seeing each other three or four times in total – twice involving playing board & card games. He was part of my plan to stop seeing hot pieces of ass, embrace the nerdy and actually date people rather than just screw around. However, I think he proved to be a bit too nerdy and weird for me. He was truly living the life of a larping, gaming, cooking, dancing, fellatio-hating, communal-living 20-year-old. I know that we will encounter one another at some Convention or another – and he’ll likely be the one in Cosplay.

In writing this, I found a fourth guy in my “people you may” list – a guy that I never met, but whose POF messages had advanced to phone texts. So…four men – three different methods of introduction and the common thread? My phone. I put my number on Facebook because I reasoned that anyone who was a FB friend is someone that I was comfortable having my number and being able to contact me that way. Now I realize that Facebook is using some algorithm involving my phone contacts (and possibly text history,) to target my social interactions. There’s a part of me that thinks this is fine – despite my “no Facebook rule” about men I date, they certainly would qualify as “people I know” and might want to reach again. There’s still another part of me that is creeped out and a bit concerned about the ability to access my personal information.



The center of my universe (An Unfinished DRAFT from October 9, 2014)

I was poking around and found several unfinished drafts and thought “fuck it, send” – some of these are from too long ago for me to even remember where I was headed with them, so I am just publishing them as unfinished chunks of my life…


I mean, I miss my kids – but I would have regardless of whether I was married or not. It just happened that my empty nesting happened at the same time that my divorce did so it’s a double-whammy. But I’m so much happier than I have been in ages! Even on the days when I feel depressed, lazy & unproductive I am making my own way and doing things on my schedule for me. Yes, there is also a new man in my life. One who has taken on a significant role and whom I now live with. This is GREAT – I love it and I want him here, but sometimes I worry that I went from one man to another as the center of my universe. Which is why I insist on being spoiled rotten. To put myself first as often as I put him first. To let him have me be the center of his universe regularly & often.

This is a weird one. I don’t remember writing it at all. Who starts a blog entry with “I mean”?? Maybe it was something that was developing as a separate topic from another post??



Self-fulfilling prophecy (An unfinished DRAFT from January, 17, 2014)

I was poking around and found several unfinished drafts and thought “fuck it, send” – some of these are from too long ago for me to even remember where I was headed with them, so I am just publishing them as unfinished chunks of my life…



I’m going to try to write about something that seemed very clear late last night in that muzzy, post-coital time between orgasm and sleep. So clear, in fact, that after having the “ah-ha moment” I even rousted myself enough to send myself an email reminder to blog about it. This morning, however, the thought seems less clear and not nearly as focused.

I’ve been doing this a lot – thinking. Perhaps it’s my English major background that makes me feel that I need to come to a solid conclusion in my writing. Not having one seems to keep me from actually putting my words down. Yet not using the outlet I have here to write tends to make me over-think things and create this circuit that I fear will lead to self-fulfilling prophecy.

I’ve got a lot of experience with that. Which is why I’m trying to behave differently. It’s an interesting paradox, incidentally – valuing and uplifting your awesome self while trying to break ages-old bad habits. There’s this tendency to say “this is WHO I AM – if you don’t like me then FUCK OFF” yet, if you are a reasonably self-aware  person who is honest with themselves and in their inter-personal relationships, you know that you could do better. By the time you are my age you ought to have at least a fair knowledge of your bad habits and hopefully, some interest in improving. At least I do. But I feel like I can only take that so far. I can only examine myself and my motives, interests, habits, faults, insecurities & mistakes for so long before I say “you know what? I’m a good person and I try really hard so please accept me – warts and all.”

Which brings me almost to my fears about self-fulfilling prophecy. I’m currently in a really good relationship. We started out casual, fun, polyamorous…and it got hot, heavy and intense really fast. It’s still a lot of fun, mind, but fucking soon became making love which and saying “I love you”, sleepovers quickly turned into living together, poly quickly turned into primary, I stopped dating others, his relationships ended with his other two girlfriends and boom – the holidays brought about lots of “are we X or are we Y” questions in me. Let me clarify: though all this natural progression I’ve been very happy. I’ve resisted the urge to try to define or control what was evolving in our relationship. From the start we’ve been comfortable and natural with each other and I decided to just love each day we had together and not add the pressure of a label.

My fear was that if I asked to be


My taco taco!

I started dating my man nearly a year and a half ago and gave him the name  “Working Class Whimsy” the first time I blogged about him. I had done enough dating and blogging at that point to realize that my old system of first initial/age was confusing and I had recently started giving the guys I date more descriptive monikers. It’s funny to look back over the past 17 months of change, growth and increased depth of our relationship and evaluate the cutesy little blog name I gave him & see if it still fits.

(For the record, I recently saw “Brad Pitt” again and man, his blog name no longer matches him!!)

I called my guy “Working Class Whimsy” because he came from a very poor, blue-collar, working-class background. Though extremely smart and witty, he’s also very “simple” in terms of his needs & expectations. While my ex spouse was always concerned with having the newest technology, car, books, music, software, games, etc and never gave a thought to his “instant gratification” spending habits, “WCW” is happy driving an old car that’s paid for, making a simple meal and hanging out in sweats. My ex seemed to always be trying to overcompensate for his humble beginnings while Whimsy seems comfortable in the old neighborhood, ya know?

The “Whimsy” part comes from the funky artist and funny, goofy, inventive romantic who belies his “quiet” and “simple” side to slay me with a creative or romantic gesture, stun me with the depth of his understanding and leave me speechless with the intensity of the words and actions that he chooses to show his love.

This man has never bought me flowers but he eats my pussy like he’s being graded on it and has done so about 300 of the past 365 days. I mean, come ON! I can buy my own flowers!

So I wanted to share with you a moment of silly sweetness displayed by my whimsical guy last night during sexy time.

The chill & rain of fall is upon us here in the Pacific Northwest. I’ve just broken down and turned on the furnace. Still, last night our room was cool when we went to bed. Our loving turned to his giving me some intense and delightful oral ministrations and despite the way that he warmed my core, I was cold and made mention of it. Immediately he sprung into action using two heavy blankets to swathe my legs, feet, breasts, shoulders & arms on either side of my body – leaving an exposed strip of bare flesh down my middle. I was laughing at the absurdity and cleverness of this – I was snuggly warm and nothing was exposed anymore except my crotch which was covered with his face and warm from the delightful friction caused by teeth, tongue, beard, mustache and fingers.

Giggling, I said that he made me a taco and then laughing, I said it was my “taco taco” because he left only my lady bits exposed and the rest was wrapped in a warm “shell” of blankets.

Well, between enjoying the “all-you-can-eat taco buffet” and silly remarks about “hot sauce” and “extra sour cream” we both rather enjoyed ourselves!


Someone needs to explain to Greg Abbott where babies come from

I know that I usually write about sex & dating more than politics, but this is about love, sex, dating, marriage, sex education, safe sex, responsibility, acceptance and civil rights – all really important and current stuff!

Be educated. Be kind. Vote.

Margaret and Helen

Margaret, I hear the fall colors up there in Maine rival the beauty of my spring wild flowers down here in Texas. Well, I find that hard to believe ’cause our wild flowers are mighty pretty. Maybe we’ll have to agree to disagree. But do you know what else I find hard to believe? That Texas could have a Governor more stupid than Rick Perry or even George Bush.

I shudder to think that Tweedle Dee followed Tweedle Dumb in our State Capitol, but this confederacy of dunces is only going to get worse if we elect Greg Abbott this fall. (For those of you who don’t live here, he’s our esteemed Attorney General who is running for Governor against Wendy Davis.)

Yesterday, Abbott argued that the state’s ban on same sex marriage would reduce the number of babies born out of wedlock. Evidently, heterosexuals won’t have unprotected sex as…

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Quickies with the Risqué Divorcée!

  • Facebook "It looks like you're at Burger King. Check in to share with your friends." Me: shut the fuck up, Facebook! 4 years ago
  • RT @amyisprettycool: Ok, who wrote the Melissa McCarthy as Sean Spicer #SNL sketch because they just made America great again 4 years ago
  • RT @LuvPug: My husband thinks it's so cute when I speak to him with terms of endearment like 'honey' or 'cockblocker' 4 years ago
  • RT @SondraDeeMe: I've always had a soft spot in my heart for female T-Rex because the tampon insertion must've been really difficult. 4 years ago
  • RT @joss: To everyone who keeps saying "Go back to making jokes/films/etc", WHAT DO YOU THINK WE WANT MORE THAN ANYTHING 4 years ago