Toe sucking. It ain’t bad.

toeOne of the funny things about having a blog is getting to see the search terms people put into their browser that land them on one of my pages.

Apparently I’m popular among toe suckers, though I’m not sure why.

The sum total of my experience with toe sucking was when the guy I was dating at the time decided to suck on my toes.

All I can say about toe sucking is:

It sounds weird but it’s NOT THAT BAD.

Actually I LIKED it.

Maybe I liked it because of what the guy did RIGHT BEFORE he sucked my toes (catch my drift?).

Maybe I liked it because it felt so soft and sensitive.

Either way, I NEVER would have let him do it had I known what he was planning on doing.

I normally am WAY TOO SELF-CONSCIOUS about what I taste/smell/feel like.

But he managed to sneak it in and so I can say with conviction:


The other funny thing about toe sucking is that I occasionally get google alerts for toe sucking – mostly Craigslist personal ads from men looking for women who will let then suck their toes.

I didn’t realize that THIS WAS A THING.

I’m sure writing this post about it is going to even further put me on the map for people with toe sucking fetishes, but so be it.

I wouldn’t normally ask for it, but if someone wants to do it, I’m certainly not going to stop them.

Toe sucking.

It ain’t bad.

All you need is to succeed once


No one said it would be easy.

And technically, you get it wrong all the time and only get it right a fraction of the time.

Those aren’t stellar odds if you ask me.

I once dated this guy named Paul and for the life of me I couldn’t remember his name. It was like I had a mental block against his name. He finally gave up on me and (I am sure) filed me away under “disastrous dates.”

There was another guy who I went out with who was Lebanese. He had hummus the night before and he FARTED the whole time we were on our date. Nasty, stinky, garbanzo bean and garlic farts. Ugh. I filed him under “NEVER AGAIN!”

But the absolute worst date I went on was with a lawyer who brought his 6 year old daughter and two standard size black poodles with him. Somehow I wound up walking those dogs and letting his daughter watch the Adult Swim station on TV while he ran out for dog food.

And the best dates, we’ll they are like magic in my mind.

Charlie, the Aussie I adored, took me to see Hearst Castle and we strolled along the beach, just like the cliché, hand in hand, chatting about his life in Australia and my life in the US. It was a little bit of heaven and that boy deserved every blessedly wonderful thing that happened to him.

Jason and I hit it off instantly. It was unimaginable chemistry and an instant connection. To this day, I remember how he said my name with gravity and weight, as if it really mattered to him. That boy could say ‘Michelle’ and get a response from me in a millisecond.

Finally, there’s Drew. Drew was a 6’10” volleyball player who literally made me shiver when I saw him, such was the nature of our attraction. Our romance was brief but intense and when he held my hand in a jazz concert at Stanford, I got moist. Yeah, that kind of attraction.

The thing that all the good dates and all the bad dates have in common is that I usually knew, within minutes of meeting the guy, whether it was going to be great or awful. No exceptions. I’ve never expected a bad date and had a good date. Likewise I’ve always known when I was about to have a really good date.

As much as I love going out and having fun, regardless of who I am with, I’d like to meet that one person who connects with me on a deeper level.

So I guess I’ll just keep putting up with the bad dates, getting one step closer to having that good date.

I have a lousy success rate.

But all you need is to succeed once and you’re golden.

Totally, utterly, completely golden.


I am a great kisser.

I’ve been told this many times and it’s something I’ve known for a long time.

There one secret to being a good kisser:  WHATEVER THE OTHER PERSON IS DOING, DO IT BACK.

And insert a little passion into it.

Because I like to kiss, I’ve become a connoisseur of kisses.  The good ones are burned in my memory like a searing hot iron.

Beginning with my first boyfriend, Frank.   I was leaning my back against his Mustang in high school when we planted one on me.  It was so perfect.  So right.  So hot, that I literally had my knees buckle beneath me and he had to prop me up against his car.

Fast forward to Jon in college.  I could kiss Jon all day, it was so satisfying.  Kissing him was better than f*cking.  Almost. I loved every second of it and found myself kissing him all the time.

Then there was my ex-husband.  Lousy kisser.  Could never teach him to do it well, either.  Next!

Steve.  Oh, his lips!  So soft and sexy.  And what that man could do with his tongue only mirrored his skills in other areas.  Steve… sigh.

Drew was amazing.  He stood 6’10” tall so reaching his lips was a challenge.  But  once you go there you were rewarded by the softest, sexiest, hottest kisses imaginable.

Matthias – for having great lips and great technique.  And for being so beautiful I want to kiss him with my eyes open to watch him.

Jeep is actually a very good kisser with wonderful lips.  He doesn’t hoover my face when he kisses me, and he doesn’t do any unnecessary tongue work that I find irritating and distracting.  We haven’t kissed a lot but when we have, it’s been good.

So what makes for a bad kiss?  Well, I’ve kind of outlined it above:

  • Kissing so hard it hurts.
  • Hoovering the other person’s mouth
  • Licking the other person’s lips
  • Unnecessary tongue work (kissing should be a parry of the tongues, not a sword fight)

A collage of some other great kissers:

kiss1 kiss2
kiss3 kiss4


The post about unavailable men

imageUnavailable men. We like to think we fall prey to them but the reality is we can spot them a mile away. So if we know what we’re getting into, why do we do it?

My first experience with unattainable men began in high school. I had a huge crush on Joe, the drummer. Tall, dark, Italian, with biceps that made my heart pound, Joe was the perfect man for me, or so I thought.

On our first, and only date, Joe leaned out his truck window to give me a kiss.

“Good night Lisa, I mean Melissa, I mean Michelle.”

Strike one. Strike two. Strike three. I’m out.

We never saw each other after that.

Fast forward 20 years and I’d met Drew. Tall (like 6’10” tall), gorgeous, and brilliant, I fell head over heels. Until I discovered he was dating couples along with me.

Enter Steve, quite possibly the brightest and biggest man I ever dated. His 56″ chest would stop my heart. Sadly, Steve lived 100 miles away in Modesto so the relationship never got off the ground.

Finally, there’s Matthew.  I met him at a winery in 2009. I locked eyes with him across the room and had an instant crush. He was like the sun and I was in his gravitational pull… along with every other woman in the room.

So why are women lured in by unattainable men? I think it’s because there’s a special spark that draws us in.  We have an organic desire to lather, rinse, and repeat.

So even though these are short-lived enjoyments, they are worth every minute we spend on them.

Unattainable men are like a drug…. they may eventually bring you down, but in the meantime they can get you so high.