Nope

It’s not what you’re thinking.

I’m not going to tell another story about some guy’s tacky advances on Tinder.

No.

Or mention again that I got ghosted by the last guy I dated.

Instead I’m going to share with you that I got a little action last weekend.

Indeed.

It’s been months since that happened and I was happy to break my abstinence streak, or so I thought.

Turns out, when you haven’t done the deed for a while, things down there aren’t as robust as they normally are.

And vigorous activity can lead to some discomfort.

I spent the night at a friend’s house.

I’m not one to turn down ANOTHER romp in the hay but let me tell you, it is possible to DO IT TOO MUCH.

And then you have to stop.

Briefly, I thought, “Well, MAYBE I can sneak in another session without my nethers screaming too loudly at me that it hurts. . . “

But no, I must inform you that there are times in a woman’s life when her vagina must exert dominance over her libido with a loud and resounding, “NOPE!”

30 years of f*cking

It’s officially been 30 years since I became sexually active.

I know this because I remember the date I lost my virginity.

It was July 8, 1989.

I was fifteen years old.

The only reason I didn’t lose it sooner is that the guy I picked to give my virginity to wound up backing out at the last minute.

I guess he was a big virgin too.

I’m not crazy about remembering dates to things like this.

It’s just that 7-8-89 is an easy date to remember.

It seems that now would be as good a time as any to review my sex life and make some changes, if needed.

Clearly, I have no sex life to speak of and so I’d like to change that.

However, I think I’ve made some good decisions lately about who to share that slice of myself with and who to abstain from sharing it with.

So I give myself points for that.

And, of course, no analysis of my sex life would be complete without acknowledging that there have been some MAJOR changes in my sex life, namely because I’m dating the new guy, but also because I’ve had a health scare or two.

Sure, there’s no one to speak of right now who I’m sharing intimacies with, but that’s likely going to change and I give myself bonus points for actually taking the time to get to know somebody as well as for creating a little empty space for someone new to enter the picture.

It was getting CROWDED.

Kidding!

Home run

It’s not like me to move slow and take it easy.

Although I am a relatively mellow woman, I find that when it comes to physical relationships I have two speeds:  grass growing and rocket blasting.

Yeah, when I make up my mind that I want some action from someone, it’s hard to stop me.

I do wish there was something besides ludicrous speed, maybe a gentle stroll or a brisk walk, to land me in bed with someone I really like.

To tell the truth, the new guy has slowed me down A LOT.

Everything we’ve done would be appropriate for a PG rated movie.

The few times I’ve tried to broach the topic with him, he changed the subject.

So I’ve been waiting for the perfect time to bring up physical intimacy.

And it presented itself:

So there you have it, I’m not going to jump his bones but I’m not going to inch along, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

I’m going to make my own perfect moment and take the new guy there with me.

As my friend Tom put it, “This is not some fuck boi with a coke can dick.”

Take my time.

Enjoy myself.

Don’t rush.

Be attentive.

And fucking pitch one perfect ball right over the plate so he can knock it right out of the park and have a roaring slide into home base.

That’ll do.

Selfies

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.

Indeed.

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!

The Right Man

When was the last time I went out on a date I was excited about?

Well. . . one that didn’t end in disaster, like the last.

I’ll tell you, the last date I had that I was genuinely excited for was with my ex-boyfriend Luke.

That’s right.

The one who dumped me after I miscarried.

Hard to believe I ever loved him.

He’s the ex-boyfriend I never think of.

I almost forget him.

Except for the miscarriage.

So let’s just say it’s been A WHILE since I had a great date.

And now, I’m swearing off dating (and sex) until I find someone who truly resonates with me.

Someone I feel connected to.

I simply can’t stomach continuing to go out on dates I’m not excited about with men who don’t even bother to get to know me.

My friend Nadine suggested I wait three months before having sex with someone.

I agreed to four dates.

When I told this to my friend Tom, he suggested 5 dates.

I balked.

Five dates!

That’s an ETERNITY.

“The right man will wait 50,” says Tom.

And maybe he’s right.

It got me thinking about past relationships and the connection I felt with the men I loved.

I miss that connection.

It’s not rocket science.

You meet someone you’re into who is into you and VOILÁ!

A connection is formed.

For me, it happens swiftly.

One minute I’m swearing off sex and dating and the next minute I’m madly in love.

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.