Screw up

The other day, I was contemplating this quote:

“What screws us up most in life is the picture in our head of how it’s supposed to be.”

It really hit home.

Of course, I have this image in my head of what my life is SUPPOSED TO BE LIKE and in reality, it is NOTHING LIKE THAT.

In my dreams my father isn’t blind, my mother isn’t in congestive heart failure, and I’m not living with them helping out.

In my dreams, I have my own place, a good paying job and a clear career trajectory.

In my dreams I have a partner who loves me and brings out the best in me.

And there I was, sitting on a couch with my date who was being kinky (we’ll save those details for later), and I thought – MAYBE THIS IS WHAT I DESERVE.

In my head there’s this perfect man for me:

A lumberjack with an education who can dress up or dress down and always looks sexy.

A steadfast man who will love me and my boys unconditionally.

One who is kind to animals and to the wait staff.

Someone skilled in the bedroom.

This was NOT that man.

But perhaps, my ideal is wrong.

After all, I’m a kinky woman.

I have strong tastes for certain things.

Maybe my “image” of what I want is screwing up the reality of what is really appropriate for me.

Maybe I should give this guy a chance.

So, I am.


Once upon a time, I dated a guy with a fetish.

Now, there are lots of fetishes out there.

Leather fetish.

Foot fetish.

Latex fetish.

Shoe fetish.

And my personal favorite:  black vinyl fetish.

But I’ve never come across anyone with an infant fetish.


Talking like a baby.

The whole shebang.

I’m not adverse to catering to someone’s fetish.

After all, I too have certain things that I like.

But believe me, I had an interesting time catering to this guy’s fetish.

It’s definitely NOT MY THING and all I can say about it is this:

For anyone who actually IS a mom, being called “Mommy” brings back memories of my two young kids and all the work it took me to raise them into the lovely human beings they are now.

I’m not sure that’s the association I need in order to effectively carry out his fantasy.

Also, and I’m just putting this out there, I don’t really want to be REMINDED of babies and young kids while I’m getting some action.

It seems inappropriate to the nth degree.

So I went ahead and role played but in the end, I think I can safely say that this is a fetish I do not possess and will not partake of in the future.

I’m a mom to two wonderful teenagers, not a mommy to a grown man.

Slutty ex-boyfriend

I went out to dinner with an ex-boyfriend.

We’ve had a rocky road post break up so I wasn’t sure what to expect.

Nevertheless, he is pretty easy and I’m pretty horny so I prepared for fooling around, JUST IN CASE we went there.

You know what I mean by prep, don’t you?

Shave legs. Shave armpits.  Prepare the lady business.  Put on perfume.  Moisturize.  Brush and floss.

I even wore a fantastic pair of leopard print panties that exposed my backside.

That sort of stuff.

Stuff every woman does when she thinks she might get lucky.

I’m not opposed to ex sex.


I think there’s enough distance between us and our breakup that neither one of us would take it too far.

Just a dalliance, I think.

Something fun to do for an evening.

But as it turns out the most I got from the evening were two fantastic hugs and a lot of great conversation.

Which, in the end, was fine by me.

Slutty ex-boyfriend not so slutty, but still FANTASTIC company.

First Date

Sunday, I went on a date.

Not just any date – a TINDER date.

Yes, the online dating app well-known for hookups.

I picked him up (it was on my way) and we went to a small pub in Redwood City.

They had delicious German beers on tap and we partook of several before heading out to a nearby taco stand to get tacos.

After tacos we went to a liquor store to get the fixings for one of our favorite drinks – the Sazerac.

Then we retired to his place for cocktails and to play with his kitties (he has three).

Was there any action, you want to know?

The answer is OF COURSE.

It’s me, after all.

But I managed to behave myself.

Which wasn’t easy to do because not only was my date a lumberjack, he’s a very HANDSOME lumberjack who I could easily stare at for hours.

You can only imagine my excitement going out on a date with him.

I had a great time and it only got strange a little bit (like seeing a handgun on a countertop at his house).

I HOPE he had a good time and that we go out again, but only time will tell.

The one where she admits she took a lap dancing class

I had my first lap dancing class on Thursday.

The important thing is to start off with a glass or wine or two to loosen yourself up for the activity at hand. Which was great because I walked into the studio right as a girl was changing in to her dance outfit (black hot pants with studs and a matching triangle bikini top) in the lobby. Bam!

She then proceeded to slip on her 7 ½ inch heels. OMG….. now I know why men love heels on women. Pow!

My class started with my instructor Heather, also wearing booty pants and a tank top, telling the class the 5 Rules of Lap Dance:

  1. Arch your back
  2. Move slow
  3. Point your toes
  4. Make eye contact
  5. Touch yourself

Anyway, we warmed up on the floor with a sexy little stretching routine. Slow, always slow. Then we began to learn our lap dance in bed routine:

  • Step 1: Strut around in heels.
  • Step 2: Lean your back against the wall and spread your legs.
  • Step 3: Close your legs and melt down the wall to the floor.
  • Step 4: Crawl to the bed. Opposite knee, opposite paw.
  • Step 5: Run your fingertips, then hands, then forearms up his legs getting closer to the goods every time.
  • Step 6: Rub your chest over his chest and up to his face so he gets a good view of the kittens. Tantalize for a minute.
  • Step 7: Straddle his leg. Grind a little.

And that’s as far as we got.  Two more classes will teach me the rest.

I have to say, the whole experience was great. Once your forget yourself (wine helps) and get in to the mood, everything starts to flow.

Get in a sexy mood. Make eye contact. Touch yourself. Show off your body. It was all very enjoyable and, dare I say, pleasurable.

It did occur to me as I was taking my class how lucky I was. Men would kill to see what I was seeing.

Not only was I learning something, but I was getting quite the show!

And just for laughs and giggles, here is a picture of the man I got to give a lap dance to in bed….

photo(29)Sexy, eh?  Picture me grinding on that….


I have a thing about selfies.

It’s not as bad as some people.

I have a friend who constantly posts selfies to Facebook.

I once counted the number of selfies in her vacation photos and there were 19 selfies out of 26 photos.

That’s A LOT of selfies.

She must be in love with her own face, is all I can think.

But me?

I have a very specific selfie obsession.

I like taking selfies after sex.


I have a collection of post-coital selfies that I simply adore.

Flushed faces.

Tousled hair.

Unguarded smiles.

It’s not what you think.

I don’t take R-rated or X-rated photos with my partner.

I simply capture our faces, our expressions, for one fleeting second in time.

And it’s really lovely to look back on all these memories and recall all the good times.

And the times were VERY GOOD!

One Lucky Lady

I got news today from The Swede.

All is well in Sweden, in fact he has a girlfriend now.

I’ll admit, I was a little sad.

But wasn’t he sweet to tell me instead of letting me find out via Facebook or Instagram?

Yeah, that was nice of him.

He was bound to find a girlfriend.

Honestly, both of us have been single for years.

We’re RIPE for the picking.

It’s nice to hear he’s doing well, and no worries, I’m not crushed or anything.

I’ve been flirting with my own (new) man who seems quite kind, funny, and generous.

He’s my distraction.

I will miss chatting with The Swede but we’ll keep in touch I am sure, even if it’s only just a little bit of catching up from time to time.

So there you have it.

The latest news from Sweden.

The Swede has a girlfriend.

And she’s one lucky lady, because he is amazing.

How to be Irresistible to Men

Ha!  How to be irresistible to men?  Turn into Heidi Klum, that’s how.  Or Kate Upton.

But as I was perusing the internet, I came across an article on “How to be Irresistible to Men” and I was intrigued.  Why would anyone read this garbage?  Research, my friends.

The first article suggested that being a nice girl is all it takes to be irresistible to men.  This I can partially agree with.  As we’re looking for mates out there, it’s our confidence, humor, and kindness which will interest a man and make him want to get to know us more.

The second article I read listed a bunch of things that has really nothing to do with personality and everything to do with body language.  Flirting.

  • Flipping our hair
  • Sneezing
  • Biting our lips
  • Moving our hips
  • Touching them gently
  • Wearing a ponytail

All these are well and good, but rather superficial, don’t you think?  Are you really irresistible if their attraction to you only lasts 20 seconds?  I think not.

The final article I read suggested that a youthful attitude, sexual adventurousness, being comfortable in your own skin, talking about what you love, body language, and being able to tease (aka create sexual tension) makes a woman irresistible to men.   Not a bad list, although it certainly requires the parties to get to know each other a bit.

If you were to ask me what makes a woman irresistible, I’d say her openness. It’s how she welcomes you to her.  It’s how she greets you in those first 30 seconds when a man makes up his mind about whether or not he desires her.  It’s also how much of her personality leaks through into real life, grabs a man by the ears, and says “Look at me.”  Whether she communicates this through body language or conversation is up to her.

We can’t be irresistible to everyone but to the right people – the ones who become our lovers and our friends – we are magnetic.

So my suggestion is don’t worry about being irresistible.  Just be yourself.  The rest will take care of itself.


For her 40th birthday, my friend Michelle decided that it would be a good exercise to jump out of an airplane.  She managed to convince me and her friend Kari to join her on this venture.  And so one weekend, we all piled into Michelle’s Mini and drove down to Hollister to Skydive Hollister.

We were all so nervous about skydiving that we refused to talk about it.  Every time someone brought up the subject of what was about to happen to us, we changed the subject.

And we barely ate breakfast…. just is case it repeated on us.

So we get to Skydive Hollister and there’s bad weather so flights are delayed.  So we sit in their waiting area which reminds me a lot of a dive bar – cigarette smoke smell, pool tables, crappy couches, and lots of graffiti on the walls.  Our 10 am flight wound up being a 12 pm flight so I had plenty of time to contemplate letting a graffiti covered outfit launch me out of a plane with nothing but a kerchief strapped to my back.

In the end, they gave me the hottest guy to jump out of the plane with.  And I was most appreciative of the distraction.

Our plane took off and when we hit our elevation (10,000 ft.) I watched as first Michelle and then Kari went out the door of the plane, tandem style.  [Kari and her instructor went head first, natch.]

Then it was my turn.  I scooted on my butt toward the door, swung my legs out, and then we just fell out of the plane.



You could see everything on the ground below you, it was a beautiful view.  And it didn’t feel like you were falling, it felt like you were floating.

I was mesmerized.

Then my instructor pulled the cord and we started floating down to the ground.  I got to use the handles to steer us back and forth.  It was incredible.

I realized, had there not been a big handsome man strapped to my back paying attention to what was going on, I likely would not have opened my chute until I’d made a 10 foot hole in the earth.  That’s how mesmerized I was by the whole experience.

People ask me about it all the time – and whether or not I would do it again and the answer is….


Me, Kari, and Michelle – pre skydive.

She’s got mad skills

All right, so I’m back to online dating.

Basically because I don’t meet single men at my job and I’m too lazy to go out every night trolling for men.

So, Tinder.

Within a few minutes of downloading Tinder to my phone, I had a handful of matches.

All healthy looking Bay Area lumberjacks (with beards, naturally).

One quickly proved to be only interested in rubbing aloe vera on my poor sunburned breasts.

His suggestion, not mine.

The other has shown himself to be made of more substantial matter – conversing with me without making a single comment about breasts, sunburns, and rubbing aloe vera on my sunburned chest.

I unmatched the man who wanted to rub my breasts with aloe.

Why waste our time?

Although I did (for a second) think about how fun it would be to sext him and his sexy beard.

I’ve decided I’m going to improve on vetting the men who reach out to me.

Make sure there’s some basic features available:

  1. Would never vote for Trump (not in 2016, not in 2020).
  2. If he doesn’t have a beard, is willing to grow one.
  3. Would enjoy attending Burning Man, not just tolerate the experience.
  4. Like kids, because I’ve got two (granted they’re both almost of age now, but still).
  5. Is an animal lover (compassion is key).
  6. Is emotionally intelligent as well as intellectually intelligent.

I’ve also been advised, by Barbara, to let her vet potential dates by introducing them to her before the fifth date.

The fifth date is when all the oxytocin (bonding hormone) sets in and I start being oblivious to all his faults.

And we all know that Barbara is The Hammer and can sort appropriate men from inappropriate men JUST LIKE THAT.

She’s got mad skills.