Posts Tagged ‘boyfriends

13
Oct
14

Have you ever dreamed of blogging?

I know. The title makes it sound like an ad in the back of a travel magazine! “Have you ever dreamed of living in Alaska?! There has never been a better time!”  Yeah. Not that. I dreamed about my blog for the first time.

I dreamed about my blog? “Gee, Risqué Rivorcée, you used to write about fun stuff like dating and sex and boys. Now you’re just so lame!”

Hold up, hold up! I dreamed that I was having naked-time with an ex and discovered that he had tattooed my name on his body. I was so shocked and conflicted by this that in my dream I was already imagining and organizing how I would formulate the tale into a blog post. I even had determined how I would change my name in the blog to make the story still work and protect my privacy. My plan was so real that when I woke it actually took me a few minutes to change the “writing plan” that I’d developed in my sleep. At first I was literally going to write the story like it had actually happened – not like a dream. As the haze of subconsciousness faded into consciousness, however, I realized that I always tell you guys the truth. Duh.

The dream was just so real that the plan to blog about it seemed like the truth until I fully woke.

The guy in the dream doesn’t exist. To say that he isn’t my type would be an understatement. He was young (early 20s?) very fit and extremely active. I know that women joke about fantasizing about hot, young hard-bodies but I swear that I don’t. I have actually written a number of posts about my general discomfort concerning men that are “too young” or “too hot” being interested in me. In several cases I have thought “what’s the catch?” It’s an interesting reflection on society, fat-shaming and my own insecurity that I have a general distrust of sexy young men that find me attractive. Admittedly, it’s the “young” part that I struggle with as much as the “hot” part. Generally, I tend to be attracted to men who are closer to my own age and who have a little bit of meat on their bones.

No that I haven’t had some one-time experiences with varying degrees of young, hot & skinny fellas, but for a long-term relationship I have to feel comfortable in sweats, no make-up & no bra, you know? Interestingly, the “dream guy” was an ex that I had lived with. In the dream, he had been traveling around the world having adventures (mountain climbing, hang-gliding, exploring the Outback,) and was back in town.  He had let himself in to my apartment with his key in order to shower/rest and had crawled into my bohemian hippy futon bed with me, naked. He was spooning me and exploring my body a bit when I woke (in the dream) and realized it was him and had a sort of friendly “what the hell are you doing here” exchange. He was clearly someone that I cared for and felt affection for, but who was an ex and it was long over between us. There was no sex, but there was definitely nudity. We seemed to be quite comfortable walking around naked.

Interestingly, not only was I nude in my dream, I was also fat. I mean, I am fat, but the images of myself that my subconscious provides in dreams are often either hazy or of me with a thinner body. In this dream, I was my very full-figured, saggy self with all the lumps, bumps and stretch marks. I was comfortable with it. So was the guy. We had clearly known each others bodies at some time in the past.

In his nudity, I noticed that he had added to a developing tattoo sleeve of colorful countries and continents that he had visited. The various map representations also had different bits of memories, pictures, quotes, images or city names marking his experiences. In the dream, I was shocked to see my name standing out in relief on Australia. He explained that there was a region there that was called the same as my first name and that he spent several weeks there and thought of me often which is why he had “HI VICTORIA” (that’s a place, right? Not my real name – duh,) tattooed across the region in big block letters. He said that every time he heard the name of the region he was in that he thought about me and smiled and would look up at the sky and say hi.

I told him that he was crazy to have put some woman’s name on his body. I teased that he must not have heard the rule that you aren’t ever supposed to get a tattoo of someone’s name and he said “well, I didn’t get your name in a heart or anything stupid, I put your name in here with all my other beautiful memories that I want to celebrate and remember.” In the dream, I was gobsmacked by this revelation and couldn’t wait to blog about this sweet gesture and even sweeter turn of a phrase. It was so real that I had a really hard time coming fully aware of the fact that it was a dream.

Of course, it may have felt particularly real because I really did have a sexy man wrapped around me & holding me during the dream. My guy also shared some pretty deep and heart-squishing words about me last night, so perhaps that’s where the inspiration came from!

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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?” 😉




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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! 2 years ago
  • RT @amyisprettycool: Ok, who wrote the Melissa McCarthy as Sean Spicer #SNL sketch because they just made America great again 2 years ago
  • RT @LuvPug: My husband thinks it's so cute when I speak to him with terms of endearment like 'honey' or 'cockblocker' 2 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. 2 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 2 years ago
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