The Tease

One of the fun things about flirting is the anticipation or tease of what could possibly come next. That excitement where your mind fills in all of the blanks of what you do not know about the other and the possibility of more is more appealing than the actual act. So naturally, I love to flirt.

Caught in the Act

Have you caught your daughter masturbating?
Have you been caught with your hand in your pants?
It happens.
Mom, it’s not a big deal. It’s actually quite healthy.

As much as I have issues with my stepmother, I am eternally grateful to her for bringing me to Caldor, am I dating myself?, and buying me a Conair handheld “facial massager.” Not sure if my dad knows about this because he has not made any reference during his embarrassing and inappropriate verbal diarrhea. My boobs and menstruation cycle have not been off-limits.

Since I did not play with my hands, the idea of using a highly efficient and targeted machine was not in my paradigm. I had told my mom that New Wifey thought I needed one and my mom was appalled, as I was initially. We didn’t discuss self satisfaction, and the idea of needing a machine to replace a man seemed, well…it entailed a certain amount of resignation.

Of course my opinion has changed in the thirteen years since that fateful Caldor trip. Why would you need a man if you can have a machine zero in? No small talk, no waiting for the phone to ring, no awkwardness, no drama.

My college housemate a BDOC- Big Lesbian on Campus told me that I was lucky I was not gay because I would be desensitized to the human touch and only want to use machines. I like it both ways, but there are times I like the direct aim of my vibrator friend.

So mom, do not worry. It’s healthy. Ask your daughter if she wants to talk about it.
And if you were caught, you can always remind the witness that what you are doing is perfectly healthy and smart, and you can always say I don’t want to talk about it.

The Fabulous Life of Me

My husband always *gets* Thanksgiving. It’s an important holiday in his family and he loves to go home for the few days, see old friends and share an intimate turkey dinner with 45 of his closest cousins.

Because I’m not a sports fan and its hard to develop a close relationship with his extended family and high school buddies when I see them once a year, I’m not a huge fan of returning to the Midwest. This year, I planned ahead with my single girlfriends that was only slightly derailed with an unexpected pregnancy.

Tomorrow, I’ll be sitting in a business class seat to Europe while my husband packs to take our daughter to Cleveland. I’m so excited not just for my trip, where I have essentially nothing planned except exploring the city, but also for my husband.

I know my daughter is blessed to have such a great dad comfortable and excited to travel alone with her (of course once she arrives, I doubt her feet will even touch the ground). He’s also a big proponent of me traveling comfortably and enjoying myself on essentially my last hurrah. I suppose I should cut him more slack when he wants to watch football at home or grab a beer with the guys.

So despite all of the baggage and nonsense in my life, and there is plenty, I am going to indulge on my true honest to goodness real vacation and not think about naps (except mine), wet diapers (except when I have a leaky sneeze), catering to anyone (except my girlfriends), eating schedules (except my and my friend’s dietary restrictions), and well…you get the point.

Guilt by Association

I’ve been laughing out loud reading Philip Roth’s Portnoy’s Complaint. For those who do not know, which up until a few weeks ago included me, the novel is the transcript of a 33 year old in analysis talking about his quintessentially dramatic Jewish parents and his obsession with all things sex including masturbation.

My mom reread it and laughed aloud and thought my dad would enjoy rereading it. I refuse to be the one to recommend the book to him. I would hate for him to enjoy the book, to read the sex scenes, the time Portnoy masturbates in his family’s liver, to hear his description of a three-way with a whore in Italy and think of me, his youngest daughter, and thank me for the laughter that the book brings or the memories that it conjures.

Before I opened the first page, I mentioned the book to my brother in law who is looking for a new novel. Although less so than with my dad, I am still reluctant to pass along my copy. Nonetheless, I probably will with a disclaimer. It is too funny of a story to be kept to myself, or exclusively for the women I know.

Showing

My husband through a little surprise party for me on Saturday. I was getting a little suspicious by that morning, but some of the guests who arrived truly surprised me.

Looking at pictures of the party, I see a small pooch where my flat abs once resided. They may still be flat, but now they hide behind a small belly where my baby grows.

We are playing a little game with one of the members of the share house: trying not to tell him I’m pregnant until the end of the summer. He did notice that I was drinking Non alcoholic beer but I don’t think that gave it away. I turned around my pre-natal vitamins lest they give away the secret.

The party was fun but there was a part of me that was jealous watching everyone drink beer and later smoke I know in the scope of my life, this is a short temporary hiatus from indulgences, but I still miss them.

My husband agreed to abstain for nine days, after he told me that nine months was not that long. He has yet to start his nine days but claims he will. Whatever.

I’m kind of bummed that those cute fitted t-shirts I recently bought expose my growing stomach.

I know I’m blessed and lucky on so many fronts, but I’m not excited about being pregnant (despite the ice cream benefit). I’m starting to get excited about having another baby though. I just have to figure out how to squeeze the new one into the apartment.

A Little Rough

I asked my pilates instructor how many times her clients comment that the Cadillac machine looks like some sort of S&M contraption. I have never used an S&M machine, but I imagine that one would resemble this machine with leg straps, a bar, an elevated table and some extra leather straps.

How romantic is it to contort oneself into such a contraption before sex?

The idea of handcuffs is stimulating, or should I say titillating, but having my partner or myself cooperate kind of takes away from the whole struggle/ turn on aspect. Even if one of us puts up a little fight for *show* makes a difference.

One of the toys my friend who sold sex toys gave me was a whip with a feather on one end.

I guess it’s all about the tease and a little spanking. The mind can be very creative in anticipating what lays ahead sexually.

First Vibrator

I was absolutely humiliated when my Dad’s wife of all of about five minutes suggested I get a vibrator to take to college my freshman year. I told my mom and she laughed at the ridiculousness of the suggestion. Who uses a vibrator I thought? I was 17 and did not meet one person who admitted to vibrating. I squirmed in embarrassment when my stepmother told me about my dad discovering her toy. eww.

I don’t remember how or why I turned around, but next thing I knew we were roaming the aisles of Caldor looking for a “facial massager.”

Ten plus years later all I can say is Thank you Stepmom! It’s one of the nicest most eye-opening experiences ever. I almost pity my mom for being so ignorant about this satisfying aspect of life.

Several months later I helped a frustrated friend overcome whatever issues she had with masturbating and loaned her Pan Man as we nicknamed that little Panasonic Pleasurer. I can think of at least two or three other friends who I have also influenced in the realm of toys.

Now it is hard to believe that I ever had any issue with “it”.

After backpacking in Southeast Asia post college I was horny. I had a layover in Hong Kong and was staying at some very funky hostel where nobody spoke English. Horny and alone I stopped at a street fair and saw some guy selling a mini-massager. Why not? I thought. Being slightly bored, I pretended I did not know what the toy was for and had the salesmen in his very limited English demonstrate how the gadget could massage my head and neck. I wonder if he knew I was in on the joke.

Skipping Town

I am spending my first official mother’s day as a mom on the other side of the country without my daughter.

Note to loyal readers (all two of you): I MAY take a break from posting during my short trip.

I moved to LA after college because I wanted to. I bought a one way ticket and a car from the only dealership that agreed to pick me up at the airport. I was so young, naive, optimistic, and determined that I was going to make a career for myself. It never panned out the way I wanted.

I think back to my life there and wish that one of my friends did a better job of taking me under her wing and grooming me. Having just graduated from a women’s college then backpacking through southeast Asia I did not know things about wearing make-up regularly, ironing my clothes, sporting to sexy shoes to compensate for a less than stellar outfit. I wonder just how different things would have been had I been *sexier*. Who knows.

This will be my first nights without my daughter. It will also be different because one of the friends I am staying with is single and getting ready to move out of the country. Two friends I am seeing are recently engaged so I will help them with wedding planning stuff. I remember thinking about my wedding as such an important significant time. And it was, in a lot of ways. In other ways, it was just a big party celebrating my love for my husband.

BLAH. No sex in this post, so I probably won’t generate a lot of hits, but I don’t want to write about how my husband turned down my invitation to join me in the shower last night and help me shave any part of my body. I did warn him that I am at least ten years away from my sexual peak so he should be prepared.

All talk and no game

Someone asked in my “cougar” comment section if my husband and I would ever agree to have one night with someone else without consequences.

No. No. No.

Before I was engaged I kissed someone. Not proud of it, but I enjoyed how smitten he was with me. All I kept thinking about was my then boyfriend, not even fiance or husband at the time. I just did not want to hurt him.

Maybe I am coming across as a prude.

I did my wild child stuff. I went to a women’s college and you can use your imagination. I experimented. I had a blast. But I did it. Now I feel the responsibility of being responsible and prudent. It’s not just me anymore, but my family. Not the family in the sense of the crazy drama I endured growing up, but family in the stick together, provide for one another kind of way. I’m lucky and no one night fling is ever worth jeopardizing that.

But I can still flirt! And I can use my imagination.
I may go close to crossing the line. I can dance at the edge of the line, I just will not risk crossing it.

All talk and no game.

A little dress

We received two fancy shmancy dresses for my baby that just fit her now. I’m afraid she is going to outgrow them in a blink, which she probably will.

I want her to wear them every day because she looks so precious in them. I put one on today for a brunch with my parents and everyone adored it. What am I saving it for? Let her stain that expensive little dress now.

I was tempted to return it to the department store and get a pair of boots that would fit me until the next child caused my feet to swell two full sizes, but my husband said no. Besides the department store is out of the way.

She looks just so damn precious in the dresses. I am such a mom, madly in love with my angel and mesmerized by every little thing she does.