I’ll never love again

I’m okay being single.

It’s MUCH better than being in a dead-end relationship.

I know a few people in that kind of relationship.

Sometimes it just makes me want to scream – HOW CAN THEY BE IN A RELATIONSHIP WHILE I’M NOT?!

But truthfully, I haven’t met anyone who I think could be long term material.

When I look back on the last 14 years since my divorce, I realize that I wasn’t ready for a permanent relationship.

I needed some work.

Dare I say it:

I was a little unbalanced and needed time to process.

Now that I’ve had the time to work on me, I’m still not finding anyone out there who is appropriate for me.

And it worries me for one reason:

I feel like I’ll never love again.

It’s not being single that bothers me (cuz it’s kinda fun), it’s the thought of being ENDLESSLY single that bothers me.

The idea that part of my life is over with somehow and will never ever be resurrected scares me.

I’ll never have a plus one for weddings.

I’ll always drive my tires bald because there’s no one to remind me to change them.

I’ll never have to question where I’m spending the holidays because it’s just me.

But most of all I worry that I’ll never fall in love again.

And as fun as casual sex is, I’m kinda hoping for something a little more stimulating.

That’s right.

I said it.

I want more.

Sex Magic

So there’s a group called Sex Magic and I’m intrigued by them. According to their website they are about meditation, intimacy, self-exploration, sexuality, dating and relationships and ritual. That’s quite a load of topics to keep you busy.

They’ve hosted several meetings so far – including one on dating as a spiritual practice, one on conscious sensuality and a wildly popular one on female ejaculation and prostate massage.

Let me repeat that.

One on female ejaculation and prostate massage.

Now these are not two of my favorite topics, but I’m INSANELY curious about them. So curious, I would have attended the meeting, had I only known about it.

You might think this sounds a little hokey. And you may be right. But these meeting quite frequently have licensed psychotherapists and relationship coaches as part of the presentation and discussion.  The entire group is organized by a licensed Marriage and Family Therapist.

Their next meeting is in February.

It’s called “Sex, Magic and Erotic Influence” and I’m going. Quite honestly, they had me at “sex”.

The seminar seeks to answer the questions:

What kind of erotic presence do you hold? 
What is the range and depth of you sexual embodiment?
What can you call forth from your lover?
What are your edges and how do they hold you back from expressing and enjoying your full erotic potential? 

Well, the last question is the kicker for me. Because if you were to ask me if I’m enjoying my full erotic potential, the answer would be “NOT AT ALL.”

Despite all the experiments I test out. Despite the OMing. And despite the blogging.

I can’t shake the feeling like there somehow should be more.

Like say a boyfriend?

Yeah, that might do it… getting a boyfriend.

Can Sex Magic help me with that?

I went to Burning Man and all I got was this FUCKING BABY!*

DO NOT GO TO BURNING MAN WHEN YOU ARE OVULATING AND EXPECT TO SEE ART.

No.

Instead of seeing art, you will spend an inordinate amount of time on your back trying uselessly to impregnate yourself.

I say “USELESSLY” because we all know how important it is to use condoms when one is engaging in CASUAL SEX without any other form of birth control.

I am not on birth control for one reason: it takes the THREAT OF AN 18 YEAR COMMITMENT to make me INSIST on using condoms.

I RARELY fudge it.

But fudge it I do sometimes.

Which is why I can say with a little shock and dismay. . .

. . .I’m late.

Way late.

The WHOLE reason I am writing this post is because I AM SURE THAT IF I POST IT, I WILL NOT BE PREGNANT.

It’s the whole Murphy’s Law thing and me, again.

If I write it, it won’t come to fruition.

If I don’t write it, it will.

THE LAST FUCKING THING I WANT IN THIS UNIVERSE is to be a 43 year old pregnant woman.

Or, God forbid, to have gotten pregnant at Burning Man.

I went to Burning Man and all I got was this FUCKING BABY!*

‘Nuff said.

 

*I’m DEFINITELY NOT PREGNANT.  Still no period, though. Perimenopause SUCKS the BIG ONE!

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 18.

18 ex-lovers – 16 men and 2 women.

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!

Bareback Generation

I’ve noticed that there are men who are loathe to wear a condom, even when they’re simply hooking up with a partner for the night.

It’s a little bit shocking, to say the least.

What ever happened to safe sex and the older generation?

Quite honestly, I worry more about unintended pregnancy than I do about STDs which is probably bad, but I am still smart enough to at least suggest a condom.

Remember that one time I was stealthed?

Yeah, the guy took the condom from me then DIDN’T PUT IT ON and instead PULLED OUT AT THE EXACT WORST MOMENT SO THAT HE COULD COME ALL OVER MY BACK, thereby notifying me that I’d been duped into having sex without a condom?

Yeah, that’s a little bit what I’m talking about.

Of course, that behavior borderlines on criminal, I think.

So let’s set it aside for a minute.

What about the casual guy who just simply doesn’t like condoms?

The guy who isn’t worried about pregnancy (because maybe he is shooting blanks)?

I think it’s a generational thing.

Younger men don’t question condoms. They use them by the cartloads. They know – NO BABIES AND NO STDs.

Now, part of me think perhaps it’s not just that bareback sex FEELS better.

No.

Perhaps it’s because of “challenges in the plumbing department.”

What diminishes the sensation also can diminish. . . well, the “device.”

And Lord knows no one wants that to happen.

Then the fun is OVER.

For me, barebacking is for the guy who is a boyfriend. It’s for the guy I’m willing to go on birth control for.

It’s not for the casual hookup.

And it’s certainly not for the guy with criminal tendencies who is willing to TRICK me into doing it.

Call me crazy, but if I get a little skin on skin action, it’s gonna be with someone who I think has some sort of role in my life, when there’s birth control in place, and appropriate STD testing.

That’s just how I roll.

Honest

60 days down, 30 to go.

So you want to know the truth about abstinence?

I thought it would be harder for me, given my proclivities.

I was sure I would suffer miserably.

But the truth is, it hasn’t been that hard.

No pun intended.

You see, I haven’t really been around temptation.

The Swede is in Sweden.

The Photographer cancelled on me twice.

And since no one else has asked me out. . . well, here I am two-thirds of the way through my committed abstinence period and I’m doing A-OK.

Oh sure, I’ve had fantasies about getting it on.

Who wouldn’t?

And I’m TOTALLY LOOKING FORWARD TO my abstinence coming to a close.

It’s been an interesting exercise.

But I learned one thing:

When sex is taken out of the equation, it’s easier to figure out who you want to spend your time with and who you don’t.

There are some people I just don’t want to hang out with when sex isn’t an option.

Meaning there’s no substance to the relationship.

Then there’s people I LOVE hanging out with – both men and women.

I’ve learned to cultivate those relationships more and let the other ones fall by the wayside easier.

I have to admit, rather sheepishly, I’ve also been kinda bitchier than usual, especially to men.

It’s not that I’m a ball buster, it’s just that I’m more tolerant of myself when I’m grumpy and less inclined to fake being in a good mood.

For example, I had a friend who cancelled on me due to illness.

When he called to reschedule, I was feeling cranky because I’d been cancelled on SEVERAL TIMES that week.

And so I said NO RESCHEDULE.

Normally, I would have MADE myself reschedule with him.

I can’t tell you how giddy it made me feel to just follow my mood and say no.

Bitchy?

Perhaps.

But honest.

Giving up sex

So here’s The Deal.

I’m giving up sex for 3 months.

That means three months of no sex, not even a teeny little bit.

Not even the kind that doesn’t “count.”

This means I have to be celibate until January 7, 2018.

Now, there is one exception to this rule:

The Swede.

IF The Swede comes to visit, then my vow of abstinence goes on hiatus.

I rationalize it like this – The Swede happens to be the one HEALTHY friendship I have and therefore shouldn’t be included in my vow of abstinence, which is supposed to weed out the dirty boys and rebels.

I told Tejas about my vow and he just laughed and laughed.

Then he thought about how much bitching he will have to listen to and he STOPPED LAUGHING.

Personally, I think the biggest challenge for me isn’t going to be giving up sex.

No.

It’s going to be giving up the sexting and flirting that goes with it.

Because for me, flirting leads to sexting leads to sex IRL.

So we’re gonna have none of that.

Do you think I will survive?

I’m my own f*cking problem

All this time I’ve been thinking that I can’t find a good man because a good man hasn’t crossed my path yet.

But that’s a lie.

I think I’ve come across a few.

You see, I take an odd approach to meeting men.

I bombard them with my sexuality and dare them to see ANYTHING AT ALL beyond it.

Of course, the good ones run away, and the bad boys stay.

So I have a bouquet of rebels and dirty boys to choose from.

They’re the ones who value sex as much as I do.

And I’m not in love with a single one of them.

And none of them are in love with me.

Maybe, and this is a BIG MAYBE, I need to relinquish my vice grip on sex being the most valuable part of a relationship and consider that there are other things infinitely more valuable.

Conversation, for one.

Thoughtfulness, for another.

A great sense of humor.

God, I can’t believe I’m going to say this but maybe I’ve been valuing the wrong things all along.

Maybe, if I want to find someone, I need to just stop with the sexting, and the nude pics, and the dinner dates at his place and just SLOW THE FUCK DOWN!

I think I’ve forgotten that I’m a woman, not just a vagina begging for earth-shattering orgasms.

Is this what my friends* have been trying to tell me all along?

If I really want to wind up with a decent man, then I need to embrace the woman I am, not the sex that I want.

Am I my own fucking problem?

 

*Barbara, Lisa, Rob, Michelle. . .

Lousy F*ck

This post is for all the guys out there.

There’s something you need to hear and I’m gonna be the one to say it:

Aftercare.

It’s a thing.

And it’s an important thing.

You don’t just slip your clothes back on and beat a hasty retreat out of the bedroom.

No.

Part of the commitment to sex involves a minimal commitment to AFTERCARE.

Meaning you and your partner make pillow talk for at least 10 or 15 minutes post coitus.

When you leap up and wash, get dressed, and leave, it feels like an abrupt and rude ending to what might have otherwise been a fun evening.

So, I’m curious. . . what will it take to make you give a shit about being respectful and connected post coitus?

I’ll give you a tip.

It doesn’t matter how good a lover you are, IF YOU DO THIS THEN THE LOVEMAKING SUCKS.

A smooth transition from the bed to the kiss goodbye ensures that the entire event will be viewed in a positive light.

If you tell us we have a lazy eye. . .

If you put on your clothes IMMEDIATELY. . .

If you fail to provide ADEQUATE AFTERCARE you will be remembered as a LOUSY FUCK and we will PURGE YOU FROM OUR PHONE AND OUR MEMORIES.

That is all.

Nooner?

I LITERALLY just started messaging this guy Jerry.

He seemed nice enough.

A bit of a daredevil seeing as how he sent me a pic of him way up in the air overlooking power lines.

Well, he DARED to be as ASSHOLE and I DARED to turn him down.

Has he even READ my profile?

You know, the one where I say that there’s more interesting things to me than just what my VAGINA can do?!?!

Good fucking grief!

I can’t win, can I?