Shits and giggles

After the snuggle/hair pulling sesh a week ago, I came up with the AWESOME idea of finding another man to do this to me:

Snuggle (clothes on) and pull my hair.

No sex.

So I posted a rather cryptic message on FB, figuring I should farm my friends for this kind of activity instead of new (dating) prospects.

And what I got was a ground swelling of men willing to do exactly that.

Snuggle and pull my hair.

One guy asked if I wanted to be pulled around the room BY MY HAIR.

NO!

Another guy asked me out on a date.

And yet another (non single yet curious) guy tried to figure out how to make this happen for me.

One particularly randy gentleman asked if he could massage my breasts too.

No, it’s just snuggling and hair pulling.

Clothes never come off.

And then it occurred to me that some of these men might be safe (aka respectful of my vow of celibacy) to do this with and others are TOTALLY NOT SAFE.

In fact, this BRILLIANT idea I had turns out to be NO SO BRILLIANT.

But I put it out there in the universe and the universe responded with abundance.

Just for shits and giggles I should ask for back scratches too.

Cuz those are THE BOMB.

Butterfly

So.

I posted “I’m my own f*cking problem” mere hours ago and already I’ve been deluged with responses from people basically saying YES.

Now.

Just so you know, even though I am right, it still hurts to hear it from family and friends.

I’m feeling a little raw.

Not a soul told me what a lovely person I am and that they’re thrilled I’m not going to exploit my sex life anymore.

No one told me to go easy on myself.

Not that I expected anyone to, but it would’ve been nice to hear a positive message.

I reached out to my friend Rob to tell him I how I was feeling.

Sad.

Sheepish.

And as it turned out, the universe gave me EXACTLY what I needed.

“Stop. That was Michelle 2.0. You are evolving into Michelle 3.0. You learn from it and become better. A butterfly cannot spread its wings and fly if it still believes itself to be a caterpillar.”

Oh man!

I’ll admit, I almost cried.

Rough times, my friends.

I’m having some ROUGH TIMES.

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When you start hitting on friends

He’s single.

I’m single.

We’ve known each other for decades.

He’s a decent guy.

I’m a decent (if slightly naughty) gal.

So when I found out he’s single, I took a leap of faith.

You see, the guys I meet online who are good guys are few and far between.

The Swede and basically NO ONE ELSE.

So even though I’ve been friends FOREVER with this guy I thought, “Why not?”

So I told him when he’s in a good place for dating, we should go on a date.

I suspect he will not take me up on my offer.

And that’s okay.

Going from vanilla relationships to me is like switching from the kiddie roller coaster to the Sky Scream – it’s a real mind fuck and you just may puke but it’s also quite exhilarating!

So I put it out there in the universe.

And even if he isn’t the man for me, someone decent will come along.

I’m keeping my eyeballs peeled for him.

Community

70,000 lucky people get to go to Burning Man every year.

It means different things to different people.

This year, Burning Man for me was all about community and self-care.

And flirting.

But I digress.

I say it was all about community because I spent a lot of time around camp due to the extreme heat.

I didn’t want to fry and dehydrate out in the desert sun.

So I really got to know my camp mates, especially since we had a communal area that was heavily utilized by all.

My burn was also about self-care.

About knowing what was good for me and what was bad and choosing to act in accordance with what was right for me.

I showered when I needed to shower.  I slept when I needed to sleep.  I flirted when I wanted to flirt.  And I hugged other people to excess.

So here are some of my favorite photos from Burning Man which are special to me not because they feature the amazing art of Burning Man, but because they feature some of my favorite people out there on the playa.

Still lusting after the good ones

I have roughly 500 friends on Facebook.

Yesterday, as an experiment, I counted how many of my Facebook friends were ex-lovers.

Out of 500, there were 17.

17 ex-lovers – 16 men and 1 woman.

Hey, I had an experimental phase.

No current lovers, mind you.

As I was making my way through the list of friends, I had to do a double take a few times and ask myself, “Did we sleep together?”

Sometimes the answer was “No, we just OMed.”

There are nearly 50 men on Facebook who I OMed with.

Other times, the answer was, “No, we just fooled around a bit but no sex.”

Like with my friend “Nathan” who I used to watch porn with and let him grope me.

And even still, the answer was occasionally, “No, but I REALLY wanted to.”

And there are SEVERAL men who fall into that category.

If I counted all the people who I’ve had some sort of sexual activity with, I’m sure my number would jump in leaps and bounds.

Truthfully, I was surprised there were that many ex-lovers on my Facebook page.

Historically, I’m not the best at keeping in touch with past partners.

I guess Facebook is heralding in the age of long term friendships with exes.

I don’t think that’s a bad thing.

It’s actually quite nice to see them doing well and having a good time.

And of course, still lusting after the good ones!

A Steady Diet of Kisses

When you’ve been single for a while, flirting comes as easily as breathing.

Breathe in.

Plant a kiss on your favorite single guy.

Breathe out.

So imagine me at unSCruz, trying to not flirt because I was there with The Swede.

All those delicious men who flirt back with me and make me feel sexy and appealing. . .

. . .they were off limits.

I’ve gotten in the habit of kissing as many people as possible.

It’s a hard habit to break and fortunately, given that The Swede has a more European view of things, I didn’t have to.

I went around kissing all my friends – male, female, trans, bi, gay, furry – you name it, I was kissing it.

Of course, the best kisser in the whole bunch was The Swede.

He would grab me and kiss me, just because.

Or say something provocative and then plant one on me.

For someone who is usually starving for affection, I got a steady diet of it during unSCruz.

So much so that I know it’s going to be hard for me to go without it.

The Swede leaves for Sweden today.

And I am going to miss him.

 

 

Friends at Burning Man

My first year at Burning Man was a solitary experience.

For the most part, I felt like I was struggling to do things with anyone but myself.

Oh sure, I got to do a few things with friends – like see the Man with Dante, spend an evening getting altered with two good friends, and touring the deep playa with Tejas, but overall, I was alone.

It’s not my favorite thing in the world. Given the fact that I live with 4 other people, I am by nature a very social creature.

My second year at Burning Man went better.

I hung with Marina, Tejas, and sometimes Marina AND Tejas, which if you know them you know is an accomplishment.

Oil and water.

It was a MUCH better year for me, activity-wise.

We made scarves, tried on clothes at the clothing exchange, rode out to the trash fence, saw INCREDIBLE art, and took saunas.

Here I am, staring at Year 3 at Burning Man and I realized one thing.

I trust my friend Tejas completely.

I trust him that if we go out on the playa together, unless I explicitly ask to be left alone, he will stay with me until we’re both ready to leave.

No need to worry about getting left behind.

Or being alone again.

And of course, this year Yvonne is going with Tejas.

Another magical soul I trust completely.

And I can’t help but think how lucky I am to have them as friends to go to the playa with.

Burning Man just keeps getting better.

I’m okay with that

For the first time in a long time, I realize I like somebody.

Just a friend I know casually though Burning Man, but nevertheless, I like him.

Specifically, he has this really nice calming effect on me.

Not that I’m high strung or anything, but it’s nice to be around somebody who makes you relax, take a deep breath, and be yourself.

Regrettably, his interest in me is likely non existent.

Par for the course with me.

I finally meet a decent single man and he isn’t the least bit interested in me as anything more than a friend.

Now, I could look at this as a failure.

As evidence that once again the universe is conspiring against me.

As proof that decent men aren’t interested in me and all I get are the rejects.

I could, but I won’t.

You see, my life is actually pretty damn nice.

And this guy, while not in the market for a romance with me, is still a nice friend whose company I enjoy.

AND I like to think of this as evidence that I CAN be attracted to nice, single guys not just the rotten ones.

So maybe it’s not a love match.

I’m okay with that.

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When you blog

write2-copyIt’s funny.

At least *I* think it’s funny.

You see, I’m a blogger so everything I experience is an opportunity to write something about it:

  • Kissing ex boyfriends in RVs at SoulFire.
  • Taking a dip in the hot tubs with men of questionable repute.
  • Peeing my pants in a onesie costume because I couldn’t get it off in time.
  • Puking down the side of Krunch’s car post-party.

It’s all fodder for the blog. Even the stuff that makes me look like a nut case.

Sometimes I wonder how my friends and family REALLY feel about this blog.

Oh, of course to my face they like it and encourage me to write.

But really, deep down, how do they feel about being WRITTEN ABOUT and READING THE INTIMATE DETAILS OF MY LIFE.

There’s a saying among us writers:

If a writer falls in love with you, you never die.

write1There’s another saying though and it goes something like this:

Don’t piss off a writer. We’ll DESCRIBE you.

IMG_9378Truthfully, I don’t get mad very often so there’s infrequent roasting of people on my blog.

[Sorry, mom. Don’t read this part.]

The last good roast was The Israeli who liked facials but got it in my eye and all over my hair thereby pissing me off.

I had SPECIFICALLY TOLD HIM NOT TO GET IT IN MY HAIR!

Turns out, there are some sexual activities I don’t like.

And some Israelis.

But ENOUGH about him.

I just want to publically thank all my friends and family who put up with me and this tacky blog – whether I’ve given you a nickname or not.

Every time I write about my friends and family, I do it with love and respect and of course a HUGE dose of courage that they’ll be okay with what I write.

Thanks to them for putting up with me.

It takes a huge amount of humor.

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