Out of the Game

May 31, 2011

A single friend of mine from college visited me this weekend and, as with many of my unhitched companions, I delight in stories of their dating and gasp at the emotionally inaccessible men. When the stories include grand romantic gestures or even subtle ones, I’m touched and for a moment long to return to the excitement of new love and courtship. And then the other side of the stories shock me.

Said friend currently has three men in rotation, a serious would be contender should they live on the same continent. A co-worker with whom she shares a great passion, and occasional beds. Another co-worker slipped through the cracks for a one-night stand. This can be great, so long as she is honest with herself about what she wants and what is being offered and does not hurt.

Allow me to spend expand on each of these three guys. The first has served time as a juvenile for inappropriately touching his sister (and good friend to my friend) as well as other girls. He claims to be cured although because of his intense workload overseas his reformation has not been tested. He recently agreed to letting her see other people given the alternative of not dating her at all.

My friend harbors a fantasy about the second guy which involves him falling madly in love with her and she in return breaks his heart. I have had great passions in my life, and I suppose for retribution sake I’d like a few men’s hearts to ache as mine once did for them. I understand the other aspects of her desire just not the one to be without him AND to crush him. She did mention after several drinks that he does have a 13 year old child. And HIV.

I’ll admit I was once HIV savvy, I know how it is contracted and the ramifications. Since my days in Health class science has made giant leaps forward and from what little I’ve read it is not as transmittable as it once was (this I do not understand and hence hold some skepticism). Not long ago HIV was a death sentence. Perhaps I’m dating myself here but that virus scares me. And my friend’s cavalier attitude about it is equally frightening. As is her attitude about protection.

Drunk and high from work, she went home with the third guy in rotation and in the heat of the moment did not pause for protection. Said guy released inside to her frustration resulting in a trip to the pharmacy for Plan B. I politely reminded my friend that she is smart enough and old enough to know better than not to use a condom. Especially with a guy (I’m hesitant to use the word Man here) she barely knows. As if Bachelor #2 did not sport enough evidence of protection. If she is involved with all of these guys who knows how many of them are involved with other people. All of which is fine, so long as everyone is on the same page and honest and uses protection.

I crawled into bed with my husband, kissed him and was so grateful not to be in the dating world and exposed to this. As free spirited as I think I may be, the idea of sharing such intimate moments with a quasi-stranger, pedophile (reformed), lover who I hope to harm has zero appeal to me. I’ll keep my fantasies as that, figments in my head.


Maybe, Maybe Not

March 11, 2011

My husband and I have been talking about having another child. It seems crazy articulating this as I can barely handle the two now and can feel my hair going gray as I wrestle to feed, dress, bathe and attend to them. But we are both one of three kids (Hubby’s the oldest and I’m the youngest) and I imagine it is easier to shuffle a new one into the mix before we completely abandon the toddler obstacles of diapers and tantrums. My parents, and my in-laws were both miraculously able to raise three kids so why not us? I am after all dividing my living room in a half to create an additional bedroom for the munchkins.

I had been a bit reluctant to go off the Pill because I was afraid that I would get pregnant super fast, before I technically wanted to. Number 2 snuck up on me faster than I would have hoped (one week moment when my daughter was 7 months old), and child #1 was conceived in about three months. So once I made the decision to quit the Pill I assumed I’d get pregnant immediately. Then I rationalized that it could take months and simply wanting to conceive was not enough to make it happen.

Yet every month since I stopped the Pill at the end of November I think I’m pregnant, perhaps because I do not have the Pill dispenser to remind me when I should expect my period or because after over a year on contraception my period is irregular. PMS symptoms are highly similar to pregnancy ones: moodiness, exhaustion, the cravings of chocolate and carbs. So, I’ve taken about three pregnancy tests all of which come back negative.
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Respect the lingerie

January 10, 2011

Have you seen Burlesque?

It is smoking hot. Christina looks great. Cher can no longer emote. The plot is lame, dialogue is weak but the dancing! the choreography! the costumes! It is the most erotic PG-13 film I’ve seen in ages. I smiled through each performance on the screen.

You don’t see any more skin than you would at the beach, but the scantly outfits are beyond smoking. And after telling my husband how turned on I was leaving the theater…mid afternoon on Thanksgiving day and driving home with his parents, he gave me permission to buy anything I wanted from the film. Only that pearl number that was removed with a simple slip of the hand on stage was not for sale on the internet.

While waiting for my pseudo stepfather at Bloomingdales the other day, I slipped down to the lingerie section to see what was erotic and justified paying retail. I beelined it to the Agent Provocateur department. While few items titillated my fancy, I was aghast at some of the prices. I did manage to find a fantastic discounted number in my size. A black lace bra with a zipper in the center and two gold buttons, and a matching thong (they were out of my size in the coordinating boy short).

Despite the chronic pain in my back, I could not resist showing my husband, then modeling it with the tags still on. Things heated up. The candle helped. And when my husband wanted to pull the bra to the side enjoy my embarrassingly shrunken breasts, I reminded him this was new lingerie and he had to be gentle. I did try to unzip the center but it was stuck on a seam.

He held the candle by my body, pouring hot wax on my body. As erotic and excited as I was, this was my first set of Agent Provocateur lingerie and I did not want to ruin it before I even had an opportunity to remove the tags. Even though I was blindfolded, every time he tipped the candle pouring the hot wax on to my body, I reminded my husband my body was his, the lingerie was not.

I had to trust him. He is my husband. And I was blindfolded. And worrying about the state of my underwear during intercourse is a real buzz kill.

An amateur porn film later, I took off the bra and thong and saw wax! Brand new wax hardened on my mesh Agent Provocateur set. I love my husband very much and as fantastic as the sex and foreplay was, I was furious. I wrote a note telling him he had to remove the wax.

Ashamed as i am to admit, I even considered returning it to Bloomies as it still had the tag on. What would I say, “I didn’t notice the wax when I bought it?” I could blame it on my husband, who upset at being accused of breaking the one forbidden act in bed, told me to buy a new set.

After seething, I opted to do nothing. The set lays in his drawer. He can try to remove the wax (I’m reluctant to ask my nanny to help) or not. He can break out the set one night when he feels horny and wants me to feel sexy. I am trying to be zen about the entire affair, take deep breaths, remember that it is just lingerie and replaceable at that. Although, i’m not inspired to replace it with an equally smoking coordinating outfit. Should my hubby try to surprise me…well I won’t argue. Although maybe I’ll pour hot wax near his crotch.


Turn me on, try it

February 22, 2010

I was warned that anti-depressants can zap one’s sexual drive and I did not think that this particular side effect would rattle me, but it does. On one hand it is nice not to be perpetually horny and unsatisfied. On the other hand I roll my eyes every time by husband reaches out to me and beg for a pardon.

When I told a friend that I switched to Lexapro she asked if it hurt my sex drive. Yes, I said, and so. I can suck it up (literally) when my husband initiates.

I just read an a letter to the sex editor in the NY Post by a husband who wonders how, after 13 years, he can encourage his wife to initiate. I think he should be grateful that she acquiesces every time. Prior to all of this…this being babies, loss of mom, sheer exhaustion, I used to initiate sex more frequently than my husband. I didn’t mind, but it was the rejection that stings.

There are times I want the coy cat and mouse game where I want his to persuade me and then there are the times that I just don’t want to do it. But I don’t think I ever flatly reject him as he once did for me. I know most of the time he did so out of his exhaustion but it still stings.


Another Horny Dream

January 27, 2010

I obviously have sex on my mind if it continues to emerge in my subconscious. I can’t remember the too many details of last night’s after hours romp but it definitely involved a critique of my blow job skills.

I don’t love blow jobs. While there have been several inspired moments when I enjoyed thrusting my husband’s organ into the back of my throat, tickling my gag reflex, it’s not a exactly a pleasurable experience. Turning on my husband and exciting him in a way that I know he cannot do better himself (see hand job) Read the rest of this entry »


Keeping Score

November 30, 2009

One of my high school friends used to log on her calendar each time she had sex with her boyfriend. I’m not sure if she logged the number of times she cheated on him, but she felt the need to keep a tally of actual intercourse.

My boyfriend at the time, and roommate to her boyfriend at boarding school, thought if you have to keep track, it’s not enough although it’s hard to imagine his hormones surging more than mine.

I’m thirty one and I’ve heard that my hormones have not yet peaked, another concept I struggle to grasp. Lately, I’ve been anything but interested in intercourse. My boobs that were once so sensitive they would leak milk from stimulation now hang like limp lumps from my body.

Last night I rolled over and I rubbed my foot against my husband’s leg. His disappointment and lack of interest in any sort of contact was immediately apparent. At first I was not sure what he was protesting, but perhaps in some diluted male mind, the contact of one foot and one leg means foreplay.

Maybe I need to be seduced more. Sure. That sounds great. I just can’t imagine it is going to go much beyond, “The kids are quiet. Quick. Strip.”


Cheating in My Dreams

November 12, 2009

Last night I dreamt I was kissing this attractive well built young guy. I’m sounding like a real MILF when I refer to someone in their mid twenties as young. He began rubbing me and eventually I succumbed to his advances. Other than him being well endowed, I do not remember too much about our physical action, but I do know I was disappointed that we did not meet up again.

My sister and I had been talking about sexual choices we made when we were younger that night and I am not proud to admit how I used my body, or rather let my body be used for ulterior reasons, mostly for attention and feeling included. Who knew not being popular in middle school could have so many ramifications later on in life?
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