Dildos and Gigolos

Happy New Year

2012-01-02T17:38:00.001-08:00

Happy New Year.
Happy new opportunity to start writing again.
Happy inspiration from icky situation.
A conversation today with a man who is pining over a lady he broke up with but now says he loves. The problem as he sees it is she is not pretty enough. She is not classy enough, she is a great lover, makes him feel cared for and safe but he is stuck in his perception of other people's opinions of him for being with her.

Hearing that bleak thought process from a man is my worst nightmare confirmed; the painful and stark truth that how a man feels with me or about me may not be enough for him to choose me. It is the confirmation of all the fears my father instilled in me and which I did not want to believe were true. Men can be so shallow. Not that women can't be too but I'd like to think that once we go as far as taking them to bed, making them a lover and nesting with them in our home, we have overcome whatever initial shallow judgements there might have been in favor of the presence of a good thing. Maybe not.

All I know is that hearing that, I just wanted to shake him and say FUCK YOU!

It brings me back to the question I have been asking my whole life: Why is it that the thing everybody wants, needs and deserves is so difficult to find and maintain? The answer that comes to mind is a spiritual principle that has been described to me. Essentially, when a great amount of light is released or about to be released, an equal and opposite show of darkness or negativity will rise up to stop it. Love, being the most powerful force in the universe, will kick up a lot of darkness to try and negate it. In this culture, I think the darkness has it pretty easy, all you need is an excuse of lopsided ears, a nervous twitch or a muffin top and you're out!

I think it is the deep responsibility of those who say they are looking for love to be mindful of this and acknowledge it but be determined not to let it derail your happiness. Beauty is skin deep but a true heart radiates to infinity.
Choose love. Choose peace.

I am powerless over muscles

2011-08-10T18:22:00.000-07:00

Man, I haven't written here in so long. You'd think I'm a nun. I practically am. I have sworn of men until I have mastered the skills of not needing and not selling myself short.

Still smarting from the Anatomy of a One Night Stand Man who turned into a 9 month sporadic obsession-inducing lover? I say lover? because I am sure there was no love there and really, the sex was so-so even though his body still drives me crazy. I guess I am a sucker for a muscular physique. The contours of a fit man really grab my attention. So wrong of me to objectify them though. I hate it when I feel objectified like that by a man. However, I understand the impulse. It's so much easier to objectify someone and get off on the lust than take the time to get to know them.

See, that's why I have to swear off. I will never get the deep, heartfelt, intimate connection that I truly desire if I keep on believing that.

I will not sleep with handsome strangers
I will not sleep with handsome strangers
I will not sleep with handsome strangers
I will not sleep with handsome strangers

Until the next one comes along..
just kidding,
one day at a time, right?

Okay, I wrote. That wasn't hard.

back in the saddle or on the page

2010-11-11T13:28:00.000-08:00

Another lapse in my commitment to writing has occurred. Today is day 1 of fighting the dragon of not writing. I'm posting the little bit I got out just because of how it ends. My hell and probably many others.

I’m sitting here until my soup boils. It’s in the pot. I squeezed lemon in there and I will add some agave syrup too. I like the sweet/sour thing and use that combination to gussy up all my canned soups. That way, I don’t have to crave the flavors and take myself out to a Chinese restaurant and eat their hot and sour soup-which is usually not that satisfying as they tend to be more peppery and there is probably more sugar in them than I realize.

It’s that soup time of year; windy and chilly outside. Fall, I am surprised by the way my tastes and preferences change with the months even if the sun is still blazing bright. The air just seems to change and along with it my bodily sensations.

I want warm soup and lit candles in the house. Perhaps it has to do with the shorter days. That seems so obvious. Lack of light would cause one to desire light. Candles offer that but I want them lit during the day too. Maybe it’s just the warm glow of candlelight I am yearning for; warm glow of candles and warm arms of embrace. These early nights accentuate my loneliness, my yearning to have a warm body around, someone to sit beside me and share meals with as I enjoy cooking more during this time of year too.

I am sure these are natural and universal urges. This probably seems obvious to the person on the East Coast or in the Midwest. Duh, it gets cold and dark-obvious remedies, more clothes and hot food, candlelight and sex.

See, this is why I shouldn’t be a writer: nothing original to say.

a couple of haikus

2010-08-31T11:01:00.000-07:00

Playing it cool
I pretend not to notice you
walk into the room

Beside you I sit
Eyes on the speaker up front
Mind on us entwined

Anatomy of a one night stand

2010-08-25T15:06:00.000-07:00

Lust.
Lust directed to me
Lust directed from me
Lust met.
Embrace threatened,
Embrace received, returned.
Neck nuzzled,
a burrowing in.
My chest pressed into his.
We stand against a car,
His legs spread open, I lean in purposely,
Feeling my thigh against him, encouraging him with
My closeness.
Anticipation rises, hand to the back of the neck
Fingers brush through hair,
Still casual,
are we really going to do this?
Quick kiss, lips-tongue-
Ok, this is going somewhere.
Where shall we go?
“My place” he says.
Okay,
Directions given-no concentration-
“Just follow me.”
Ok
My body squeals with anticipation as I drive,
tailgating to make it across
the city, running through yellow lights just
To stay connected and
arrive together.
His home. A strange place,
dingier, smaller than I expected.
His pants come off, then my clothes.
he reaches for my panties. I hesitate
then acquiesce. No playing coy tonight.
We kiss, he pulls me down on top of him
Already, he’s so hard.
I’m not wet, not ready., He is.
He kisses me. I want to slow this freight train
down but my God, he’s hot for me.
Here, take a tit, suck a nipple, coddle me,
I’m not ready to be pen-
But there you go,
Trying to get in, fingers, saliva.
God he’s strong, fit.
I want to bury myself in that chest, be wrapped in
Those colossal arms.
His cock, it’s gorgeous, long, strong, straight.
I suck and lick. He face contorts but
He holds back, pushes me over,
Slides in.
Penetrates me deeply.
I feel slightly sick, it’s sweet and I am
dazed. It has been so long.
Slow in, slow out,
I’m getting fucked.
I’m really getting fucked.
My mind surrenders to the fuck,
He positions me at the edge of the bed
And enters me vertically, downward, the sensation
Is hypnotic, I feel like he’s a dipstick and my oil is being
checked, he’s deep inside me.
I’m opening, receiving, enjoying and he stops,
Citing back stiffness.
We roll over onto our backs, he puts me in a
Position where I am face up, exposed and he starts again, this time working the clit while pumping, I know I can come in this way.
He stops working me. I continue until climax.
I feel renewed. I pop up wiggling like a happy puppy.
A kid in a candy store ready for rainbows and
Cigarettes. He wants to go again.
I’m still smiling, this is what I came here for.
We chat some,
He fucks me more,
I suck, he can’t cum, he’s numb.
It’s almost 2:00 a.m.
We’re spent.
We agree regular sex keeps you normal.
We agree that breasts like mine need regular fondling
He say’s he’s not going anywhere.
I’m not sure what he means.
I leave feeling glorious, tired, dazed.
All next day I lose myself remembering moments of how it felt,
Experience ripples through my body, I shudder periodically.
Thinking about how it felt, how it feels to
Be near him.
I keep waiting for some contact.
It never comes.
Should I do anything?
Send a note on Facebook?
Send a text?
I want to but I want the man to do it first.
I realize I can’t do booty calls.
I realize I am too old for this shit.
I realized I fucked first and asked questions
Well I didn’t even ask questions.
I realize I did it again.
Another reluctant notch on my bedpost.
Another bittersweet reminder that sex outside
Relationship is not my goal, but it is my trap.

It has been a while

2010-08-21T12:12:00.000-07:00

Last post, April 26, 2010. Now it's 8-21-2010. I forgot that I wrote about that guy-the human vibrator and he's gone now. Turned out he was unavailable. Which is okay since I wasn't that satisfied by him anyway.

Since I last wrote I had another bout of "am I gayitis?" A psychic telling me I was in fact 65% gay coupled with the fact that I haven't had sex in quite a while got the question mark rolling again.

Fortunately I had the opportunity to speak about this dilemma in a wonderful workshop with Beth Lapides and Greg Miller Beth Lapides and Greg Miller at a fantastic comedy workshop at Kripalu. My painful dilemma became a source of humor for the group since no one understands what 65% gay might mean. A wise older lesbian gave me the best answer yet. She said most women don't know they're gay until they fall in love with a woman. That answer soothed me. If I fall in love with a woman, I'll jump that hedge when I get there. Until then, I'm straight.

Setting the speed limit

2010-04-26T13:31:00.000-07:00

My local "A Touch of Romance" store closed recently. I kept meaning to get back there and by a better vibrator but never did. I still have the oversized dildo I bought there hidden away under my bathroom sink. I thought I had trashed it a while ago only to find it again. I haven't used it in in ages, not only because it's uncomfortable but I have started dating a human vibrator. A man who can't wait to go down and get me off. Sure, it sounds good and I appreciate the gesture, I just wish he would slow down. I need him to take some time. I know it's the same complaint that women have had throughout the ages but I haven't found a solution. Talking about doesn't seem to make it register. My best gay friend just told me to hold his face, talk to him and show him everything I like and talk a-lot. I am not much of a talker but will have to try it because I still need my touch of romance.

I'm over it

2008-12-10T12:53:00.001-08:00

Dating to me feels like over and over again signing up to tolerate the intolerable.
I feel so low over the whole process that I haven't been able to write.

Bob is a man I went out with about half a dozen times last year. He works in locations and when the writer's strike occurred he disappeared. It made sense. His job dried up but his mortgage didn't. We reconnected a couple of weeks ago, went out and had a nice time. He told me he thought of me and my brain came to the conclusion that we would pick things up from where they left off and move forward. He called every day the week of Thanksgiving to chat and say we should get together after the holiday and I agreed. When Friday rolled around I sent a text asking if he was working that day and rec'd no reply. Saturday I figured I'd reach out again, left a message referring to our previous conversations about getting together and inquiring what time he had over the weekend and again rec'd no reply and have not heard from him again.

What the fuck? I am just simply dismayed by the recurring lack of common courtesy that takes place between human beings in this situation of dating. Just because there is no emotional commitment doesn't mean it's okay to be rude. I've simply had enough. Part of me wants to give up hope completely and another part can't let go. The dating websites are starting to feel like minefields and my love life feels like winter in Siberia. I am officially depressed.

Another Other

2008-11-18T20:53:00.000-08:00

I have been feeling blue all day. My body just seems to want to cry. I worked and cried, I showered and cried, drove and cried, you get the point. I am not sure if I am depressed or hormonal but I am sure I am shedding tears. All this sadness made me want to get a little numb so I figured I'd call the pot dealer I had an affair with and see if he could hook me up with a happy brownie.
It has been months since we've seen eachother and we have spoken only briefly during that time. When we stopped hanging out he said that he wanted to be faithful to his wife and that his kids were in town from college and it wasn't a good time. I was fine with it because it was never going to evolve into anything after all. However, we did have a deep connection and I feel that I loved him and he loved me.
When I called he was happy to hear from me and said life had been nuts and he wanted to tell me what was going on and he had one brownie in his fridge and he'd come by and see me but we had to stay out front in his car because if he came up, "you know what would happen." Well I wasn't to worried but we met in his car anyway.
I got in, he gave me the brownie and he asked me if I wanted the truth. Of course I do I tell him. Well he says, "there's this Swedish girl, she's thirty two and we have been seeing eachother every days since a couple of days after the last time I saw you which was in May."
I imploded and was rendered speechless as my guts fell in on themselves and the tears rolled out of my eyes. "Oh shit he says, I knew I shouldn't have told you, say something." I couldn't all I could do was sit there paralyzed as my innards clenched and I tried to wrap my mind around this truth. My affair has been having an affair.
"I feel terrible" he says, "It's not personal." It feels personal not so much because I miss the sex but because I miss the fun, the companionship, the swimming the shooting baskets, the bike rides around Venice Beach yet even at the time, it was all wrong then too and I needed to protect myself physically and emotionally.
I don't need him but this episode ties into my pattern of never being the first choice. I'm always the one that gets left for someone else-even as the other woman. What a shitty narrative to have. I am both heartbroken and pissed.
But he is a fucked up guy on so many levels, so as my old Russian aunty would say, "what do you need it for?" I guess, really I don't but it still hurts.

Hmmm

2008-10-02T15:11:00.000-07:00

Well I finally had sex with Tweety. I am not exactly pleased with myself but I have been so horny lately and all my former lovers-if I could call them that have fallen off the radar. I had pretty much written Tweet off because last time I was with him he was moaning about wanting to get back with his girlfriend. I was pretty unsatisfied with his company and after we parted ways that night felt finished.

He crossed my mind this week as someone I "could" call but really didn't want to. As luck would have it, I was walking in one direction down Bay Street and he was walking in another. I said hello and with in two seconds he had his hand on my leg on it's way up my skirt. So typical of him. The guy is such a horndog. We chatted and I told him about my last date and how disappointed I was. He said "we're everywhere, just wear some bright colors, show some cleavage and smile." He always recommends bright colors and cleavage. I guess we should all look like Parrots.

We chatted for a while under a palm tree and ultimately decided to head around the corner to his place. He painted his concrete floors grey. That was supposed to make the place look better, it didn't.

He was wearing a completely worn out pair of shorts. When I saw them, I told him he didn't deserve to get laid at all. They were stretched, worn out, holy, no elastic left-completely ridiculous. He agreed and began to tear them off his body. The elastic separated and I wrapped it behind his neck in a "Borat" look.

I can't say any more about the event. I am too embarrassed after posting the photo.

"Luv ya" not Love you

2008-09-09T21:48:00.000-07:00

Round and round and round we go where we stop nobody knows. Friday night, Chaya happy hour. Me in a new haircut, my friend Anastacia with me. 6:00 p.m. two prime spots at the end of the bar and we're set.

We order half price sushi; a spicy shrimp roll, albacore salad and Cali roll for me and she has a spicy tuna tartare. We're having a great time chatting amongst ourselves when I notice the presence of a guy edging up on my left. He's standing on wrong side of the stanchion, has placed a folded napkin on the bar that ends dangerously close to my elbow. Feeling encroached upon, I turn and make a comment about his being in my space. He comments back that he's there so much he's earned a recognition brick in the bar. That piqued my attention and it was on. The three of us proceeded to have a great time conversing and then Brian showed up and bought drinks all around. I had my own Tequila shot and Anastacia's. When he got up to go to the restroom, she nudged me and said I needed to flirt more. I tried to amp it up, smiling and looking at him in the eye.

He was smart, cocky, boastful, shortish, baldish and cute. I spent the night flattering and sitting up straight. I wasn't sure if I was getting any traction when finally some comment I made received the retort "don't worry, you're sexy." I was relieved. By the end of the night he gave me a rid to my car and laid claim to my breasts. I gladly allowed him to do so because I was buzzed and in Fantasyland. I envisioned this as the great beginning to the love story I have been waiting for. A man has claimed me. My heart was jumping for joy. He texted me to make sure I got home that night, called the next day and tried to make plans, I was busy and we set a date for Sunday.

Sunday 9:00 am I go to his house, he's in the shower when I arrive, I wait. It's a pleasant place. Tidy, eclectic furniture set in an orderly fashion. He dresses, comes out and we leave for the farmer's market which was phase one of our plans. We were going to go to the market,come back and make vegetable omelettes (because he's a trained cook).

At the market, he insists we share a "snausage" as he says. It was a Louisiana Hot Link served heavy on the burnt outside and the sauerkraut. We take turns biting the end, and I am thinking now we're a couple. Happily, we walk around the market holding handss and staying close to one and other. Every time my breast bangs into his arm, he says "Thank you." I am loving the physical closeness and enjoying him. We get what we need, he buys me some fruit and heirloom tomatoes and we leave.
Next stop is the fabulous new Whole Foods on Lincoln Blvd. He needs to get a 3" porterhouse steak because his mom is coming over for their Sunday night routine of steak and Entourage. He asks the butcher to cut him a steak and I watch as he explains the shaving of the bone and the cut of meat. It's a $90.00 steak.

We check out,go back to his place and he decides he would rather walk around the corner to the deli and get sandwiches than cook. I am a little disappointed as I wanted to see him cut the veggies but go along with the new suggestion anyway. We get sandwiches, bbq chips and sea salt and vinegar chips and cole slaw. He tells me to try putting cole slaw on the bbq chip and eating it in one bite. I do and I like it.

After lunch we cuddle around, lying down on his couch with our legs entwined, his hands on my breast, stroking eachother softly and talking about the kinds of touch we like. He likes baby soft gentle finger tip strokes. I like whole hand firm contact.

We watch the US Open semi-finals on his 52" HD TV. Eventually we doze a bit.
As the day wears on he gets more grabby and I keep fending him off. "No, I don't want to see it." "No, I don't want to touch it." "No, you can't peek at me". "Yes I have some hair there." He wants to know if I like sex. "Yes" I tell him, "in the context of a greater circumstance." I ask him what he's up for and he says "well, I luv ya baby, in an L-U-V kind of way, not L-O-V-E." I keep a straight face but inside I am screaming "you mother fucker!" what a flip fucking answer. That makes me sick!. "I'm not getting married" he says. "Of course I say, we just met, what about relationship? are you even looking for that I ask." He says he gets bored easily. I ask what he does then, he says he just stops calling and hopes they go away. I am torn. I am having fun and enjoying this person but these words are exactly what I do not want to hear. I feel sick and disgusted. I see quickly that he is my pattern alive, in the flesh once again.

I leave his house that night in a haze. I am torn between the thinking that I like someone and the logic that their words guarantee me nothing but heartache.

I go to the beach, think about it and realize he is my tormentor. That is my torment. I could try to be with him on his terms because he's charming and funny and generous however, if I am honest with myself I would be harboring hope that I could change him and odds are I can't. This is a disaster spiral waiting to happen if I go back into the snake den with him.

Regrettably I have concluded that I will have to tell him thanks but no thanks. I am fucking pissed but that's the way it goes. If I say no to him, maybe someone right will come along. I know that turning my back on him after one date is a big step in my growth but it just makes me sad because it's rare that you find that connection and comfort with someone. Maybe I have there it because it's not real. Who knows, he might not call again anyway. That would make life easy.

In the meantime, I have a 3rd date with a very nice man on Thurs and a voice message from a man I got through the matchmaker I met a year ago. So, we'll see. No one is going to be as exciting as Sergio but perhaps they will be nicer to me.
My therapist says I deserve it.

No cum, still sad to see you go

2008-08-29T10:35:00.000-07:00

Another relationship hits the dust, or should I say another non-relationship gets resolved, released and I get the benefit of unmistakable knowingness that he wasn't the one for me as much as I thought I wanted him to be.

It was always non-committal, that's why I shouldn't have been surprised when after 6 months of no contact, I called him and he casually said that his girlfriend was in town from North Carolina. However, it stung and I got that punched-in-the-stomach, someone sucked the air out of the room sinking feeling. I watched my mind do a ninja-like denial trick "oh he doesn't mean "girlfriend" he means girl-friend. But the the curtness in his voice, and the deliberate use of the word conveyed the truth I didn't want to hear. I got off the phone and cried, feeling desperately sorry for myself, yet another friend finds a relationship and I perpetually the cheese stand alone.

I am so fucking angry. I feel etherically eviscerated from opening so many "mystery date" doors. So many attempts at putting my heart on my sleeve, being friendly, charming, well-dressed, well mannered, well whatever the hell it is I need to be to come across as someone you want to see more than once and I am so exhausted. I can't look at another profile, read another ad, doll myself up for another cup of coffee or round of happy-hour skewered meat appetizers. How many more eye-gazing, heart connecting, sensual dancing workshops do I have to take before it all falls into place?

I was the one who didn't date in high school and now 20 some-odd years later have dated so much more than all my friends who did. It's cruel and ironic. I'm running a never-ending marathon that I didn't even realize I signed up for. I feel like the person who is crawling towards the finish line determined to make it but just barely able to take the next step. Ugh, I sound pathetic. Better stop here before I make someone want to go and O.D. on Xanax.

I'll have to remind myself how unsatisfying sex was with the guy in another post. Suffice it to say that I never appreciated the pleasure of a good squirt until I was with someone who was physically unable to do so.

Dogs or Cats

2008-08-22T19:26:00.000-07:00

I was raised with dogs. I loved dogs, their friendly, hyper demeanors, their soft fur and companionship.

My childhood dog growing up was named Sebastian. He was a black Aussie Shep. Back then, nobody else had an Aussie. He was a beautiful boy, long black hair that glistened in the summer sun, I could see rainbows reflected in his fur. His tail was a little stub that wagged back and forth like a mini metronome, when he was super excited his hind legs would come around from the back just like theose fire trucks that have someone steering in the rear. His stub drove his hind legs towards the front and he'd approach us in happy sideways dance.

I loved him. I loved him so much I would bite him. He had a nice layer of fat under his skin and I could just sink my teeth into him-gently, not leaving marks but just getting the tension out of my jaw. I come from a family that likes to bite. From time to time I'd bite my friends but they didn't tend to like it or understand it either. Writing about it now, I can't say that I don't understand why. I don't think I'd like a friend to bite me now. Unless, it was done in the throes of passion and done consciously so as not to draw blood. But, I digress.

I loved dogs but have now had a cat for 13 years. In that time I have become a cat person. I am one of those people now who loooooves cats. I think they are beautiful and cute and irresistible to look at. I love the quiet way they move, I love their silhouettes with those two pointy ears, I love how playful they are, how they jump, I love how they don't pant, they don't need to be walked, they don't slobber, they sleep a lot, they're sleek and absolutely royal. I have totally and completely switched camps and thinking about that has made me think about my sexuality.

Maybe, over time, I could switch sides there too. If guys are dogs and girls are cats maybe I can evolve my tastes in the human companion arena too. I have questioned my sexuality for a year now. I have healer who says I am 60% gay. I have a gay friend who says I'm not gay and a lesbian friend who says I definitely am.

Meanwhile, I have never kissed a girl and while I have moments of curiosity, I feel I have invested so much time, energy, angst and yearning in the direction of men that I want some return for that in the form of a good male companion/lover. I feel like walking away and becoming gay would be a defeat. However, what if it is really the right thing for me. What if I really am a "cat" person in the coyest sense of the word?

I read other blogs and women these days seem to be so sexually liberated it doesn't matter who they kiss. In my dreams I'm there. Physically I am not. In the meantime, I'll cuddle my cat and remain uncertain and open to the possibility that a beautiful pussy will just jump in my lap, look me in the eye and offer to make me purr.

I loved a frog once

2008-08-20T18:11:00.000-07:00

When I was a little girl I had a stuffed green frog. He was about 8", green and very portable. I was extremely attached to the frog and would take him out in the world with me. One winter my family went to Colorado to go skiing and I brought the frog. I even insisted the stewardess address him whenever she addressed me. Life was good. I loved my frog.

Following a great week on the slopes, my family was making the long drive from Snowmass back to the Grand Junction airport when, like a bolt of lightning, I realized I didn't have my frog. I lost it. I screamed, cried, wailed, tore through my carry on bag and begged my parents to turn around. I was utterly inconsolable. It was as though my best friend had just died and I could not contain my grief.

Sympathetic, but unable to oblige my requests, my parents pressed on and I proceeded cry the whole way home through the flight, through baggage claim, through greeting the family dog and into my room where I rolled around on my bed as the agony continued.

At some point, later that night, I opened my suitcase and inside I found the frog. I was shocked, I had no recollection of packing it and there it was. I picked it up, looked at it, expected to be happy, overjoyed and relieved and all I felt was numb.
Something inside me had died and now I felt revulsion. I searched it's face, trying to find what I found so attractive about it. I tried to be happy, to play with it, to hug it but it was over. It was a strange sensation, knowing that minutes prior, I was a mess screaming for this thing and here it was, in my hands again and I was unable to feel happy about the reunion.

I don't know if I cried him out of my system or if I just saw him for what he was: a stuffed frog, but the love was gone. In it's place was revulsion. I found I didn't even want to see or handle the toy after that. He was dead to me.

The story popped into my head the other day when I saw a young girl having a tantrum in a store. She wanted a stuffed toy and was beside herself not to get it. I judged her for a moment when the memory came back to me and I felt sad. I can hardly believe that I was that young once. That there was a time in my life where a stuffed animal was the most important thing in my life. I wonder if I will ever feel that way about finding my life mate.

Aptly titled

2008-08-17T08:42:00.001-07:00

I was thinking that perhaps it is ironic that my blog is called Dildos and Gigolos and my writing is so much about my frustration of not being held lovingly or in a proper way.

Dildos and gigolos represent do-it-yourself means of achieving satisfaction of a sexual and sensual nature but not of the heartfelt intimate kind and that is my essential disconnect.

I keep reaching for items that give the quick thrill but my desire is to reach beyond, to go deeper and to connect with my heart first and that is where I keep on tripping and falling into the the abysssssssss.

If I were to rename my blog in order to better represent what it is supposed to be about, maybe I would call it, Deep Eye Gaze or Big Hugs and Tender Kisses or The Fuck I Don't Know How To Do This and It's Scarington Post.

Well the truth is I like the way the words dildos and gigolos just roll off my tongue. I guess that I also like that it sounds naughty and cheeky too. The contents certainly don't deliver the overtly sexual or erotic thrills one might anticipate when seeing the name. I tried to write that way at first but my essential self had something else to say. So for now dildos and gigolos remain in the realm of coping mechanisms and not fodder for erotic story telling.

Good and simple

2008-08-10T14:20:00.000-07:00

Blind date Sunday.

Met another David. I have had at least 4 David's in my life. This one was actually nice. I almost didn't meet him because he didn't look that attractive in his photo but after my previous disappointment based on a good picture, I did anyway. Much to my delight, he was easy to talk to, possessed a good mix of right and left brain faculties and seemed to enjoy me. Not much drama to this experience. We're supposed to get together Weds. I am going to drag him to the beach to go swim in the ocean with me. Bobbing in the surf is my new passion.

I'm actually excited. The cynical side of me is saying I could list the things I found to complain about him here so that this would be a more interesting post, but I think I am going to keep it plain and positive.

Happy Sunday.

Kill old habits before they break your heart

2008-08-09T13:43:00.000-07:00

Last night was a visit with another non-boyfriend let's just call him Tweet because he has bird.

He's a real bachelor. Messy bathroom, clothes lying around the living room, bed unmade, he was broiling a slab of ground turkey breast in the toaster oven when I arrived. The preparation consisted of sprinkling seasoned salt on it, putting it on foil letting the brick bake.

Our history is that he was a blind date 5 years ago. Here's what I wrote in a journal after meeting him the first time. We only had one date.

Tweet: "My first date in a long time. One of the first guys I spent some time with and felt empowered enough to truly decide he wasn’t for me. He just wanted to fuck and was not very sensuous about it. "You gotta like to fuck" he said to me. "Do it all over the house." He just pushed me on the bed like a ten year old. I am like "Is this supposed to turn me on?" I tried to explain to him that to touch me he needed to pay attention. As a a massage therapist I have a very refined sense of touch and am sensitive about how I am touched.He didn't seem to care.
Nothing bugs me more than mindless touching or tapping. DW would tap my leg to the music like a drum. That irritated me,. I am not an inanimate object. You want to tap me, do it with purpose baby."

Oddly enough, we have developed a weird little friendship since that first meeting. We go out from time to time, we usually end up with some casual groping, he's not very romantic, will still unceremoniously push me on to the bed, I protest but he doesn't change. Every time I time I leave him I feel unsatisfied, the part of me that longs to connect more deeply feels wounded and I say I won't see him again, but I get lonely and I'll call, telling myself he's harmless, a known quantity, which he is but still, there is that nagging aftermath, the yearning to connect that never gets satisfied.

I feel a little like that character that Martin Short did on SNL, where he was a hyper kid who got was tied to a jungle gym, and try as he would to get away, the leash would snap him back. I say I want to get away from my unsatisfactory choices but I keep getting snapped back by my leash of familiarity: finding comfort in the discomfort of being with unavailable men.

I have to end this post and go make an appointment with a shrink.

Boundaries, we don't need no stinkin boundaries. Or do we?

2008-08-08T15:00:00.000-07:00

Bad blind date, bad, bad.

I have learned yet again that I need direction with respect to dating and boundaries.

Let's play a game. Appropriate or inappropriate.

First date behavior.

The guy says" let's just get Indian food, go to your house, watch the movie I need to watch for work and fool around."
a) appropriate
b) inappropriate

The guy says "I'm not going to shower for the date, I look fine."
a) appropriate
b) inappropriate

The guy has his hand on your leg 2 minutes after meeting him for the first time face to face
a) appropriate
b) inappropriate

The guy says "I'm going to let you take me out."
a) appropriate
b) inappropriate

In one of the first conversations you ever have with him he asks "so do you shave or do you wax?"
a) appropriate
b) inappropriate

Another conversation he asks "can you lick your own nipple?"
a) appropriate
b)inappropriate

The girl engages in conversation with the guy about her sexual preferences. Trying to explain to him how she likes to be touched.
a) appropriate
b) inappropriate

The boy asks if she likes anal sex.
a)appropriate
b)inappropriate

She says no, not interested does not want to talk to him about it. He says "that's because you've never done it with me." "You've got to do it with someone who knows how to work with your rhythm."
"I"ll never do it she says. I don't want to talk about it either." She asks "do you want me to strap a dildo on and fuck you up the ass?" she asks, thinking surely if he's so into it, he might enjoy it. Guess what, he isn't.

Back to the game:

The girl agrees to the guy's request to get out of this bar 10 minutes after meeting, to go get Indian food and watch the movie at her place
a) appropriate
b) inappropriate

The girl tries to feel at ease with the guy as he rubs her and puts her hand on his hard dick.
a) appropriate
b) inappropriate

The girl is screaming inside as he says to her "please just kiss it, I want to see your lips on it."
a) appropriate
b) inappropriate

The girl refuses to do so but jerks him off anyway.
a) appropriate
b) inappropriate

He says "you look so angry." She is. She is furious but can't begin to explain why. Cannot open her mouth and say I am not okay with this. This is not what a first date means to me. She just shrugs her shoulders and tries to be cool. She asks him to leave at 11:00. He seems surprised.
He expected to stay all night?

He never calls again. She's wondering, did I do something wrong? Could I be different and have played along, could I have cut off the part of myself that wasn't happy and ended up having a happy date? So much confusion, sadness and shame. That is not what I want. There are men who will take time to get to know me right? RIGHT?! It's almost like it seems to much to ask these days. The gift of time. The gift of letting a relationship grow. The gift of coming together sexually being an expression of something deeper than mere physical satisfaction.
Appropriate or inappropriate? Possible or impossible? Reality or for now, dream.

Speak Up

2008-07-30T17:29:00.000-07:00

I just had lunch with one of my favorite people in the world. She was telling me about the new guy she met. He's part Jamaican, part Japanese, a big teddy bear, bi-coastal, very successful, smart and well endowed.
She met him while writing in a coffee shop. He walked in and she looked up, noticed his shoes and commented on them. From that innocent beginning a relationship that is looking potentially very significant was born.
The details are her story, but the reason I am mentioning it is because she said later in the conversation that she believes that all the good that manifested in her life of late is due to her active commitment to working on her novel. She said that the act of writing has allowed her to find her voice. When she said that it hit me like a bolt of truth.
I could see clearly the connection between freely allowing yourself to say whatever you need to say on the page translating to a liberty to speak vocally as well. It would be as though a knoose on self expression was loosened and suddenly I/she could address the world and that freedome could lead to a simple interaction about shoes that could potentially become a relationship that alters the course of a life.
I saw that there is no room for shyness (which I am, chronically). I am burdened by thinking about how many opportunities I have missed because I was afraid to say hello or any other benign comment. It just makes me realize yet again, that I need to write and write reguarly. I need an outlet for my voice, my spirit and my chance to make a good quality connection.

Please God, please God, please God make it work this time

2008-06-22T16:22:00.000-07:00

Miss Remiss,

That name sums up the way I have been treating my blog in the past month. I have been frozen since my last entry and unable to write. I stopped seeing the married man and do not have much to say about it. He was a catalyst that left me changed and feeling that I can find love in the form of an appropriate, available man. To that end, I signed up on jdate, eharmony and chemistry.com. Hours go by while I am reading profiles and saying "yes" to men that will never respond. However, I did have a good date on Weds. and I am very excited about the potential.

The guy is nice, normal and writes lovely and complete emails. He doesn't answer with one word nor does he fail to address all points that were mentioned in my email. I find that incredibly refreshing and unique. He feels social over the email. I feel like we are having a conversation that is comfortable and familiar. I like it.

I was reflecting on how I got to the point of realizing that this is the kind of man I should put my focus on and the process went something like this:

For most of my young life and young adult life I didn't date. I had no confidence and mistakenly thought that men would not be attracted to me because of my large breasts and
correspondingly ample waistline. I had a little bit of the "she's got a pretty face" syndrome that was durably reinforced by my father's insistence that I needed to be skinny to get laid. There are, of course, numerous levels of inappropriateness in that scenario but this isn't therapy. I'll just say that I took his sentiments as truth and from that frame of reference figured out that I should not talk to men because they were not attracted to me. This left me feeling:
a) scared of men
b) embarrassed to talk to them
c) unable to treat any particular one as an individual that may or may not have the same proclivities as King Dad.

Therefore, I had very little experience talking to or knowing men.

When my friends started to date seriously and eventually get married, I was baffled, how could they do that? How did they know what they were doing? Such levels of commitment or relationship were beyond my scope of comprehension.

In contrast, I became a mute, dour-faced, walled-off person when in the company of men. At parties my friends would look at me with confused faces and ask " where did you go Heidi?" "You're usually so funny and friendly and now you're totally shut down. What's up with that?" "I'm shy" is all I could say.

It was the truth and it hurt inside because I knew my behavior was ineffective but try as I may to fake it, the fear of rejection was like a straightjacket to my personality. Even alcohol didn't help. It would just yield me the occasional one night stand and the day-after prop of "I must not be that bad if Joe Schmoe fucked me."

Regarding dating, the advice I was frequently given on how to meet men was find hobbies,
take classes and do things you love. I loved self-help activities. Workshops were my hobby; movement, comedy, art, yoga and writing. I sincerely believed I would meet a man during the course of one of these endeavors.

I spent my 30's spending lots of cash, engaging in hand-holding circles, looking deeply into strangers eyes and pouring out my soul in words and contorting my body while reciting poetry, only to be disappointed time and again when the one guy in the workshop didn't express an interest in me. The "do what you love plan" was a total failure. On top of that, I became a joke to my friends who did not understand my quest to better myself. They loved me but thought I was weird. I guess I was.

At some point after turning 40 it dawned on me that the men at the events I habitually attended were broken in some way. They were not there for dating, they were there to heal their wounded parts just as I was. This insight made me want to stop attending workshops. It also caused me to pause and think about some of the fine men my friends have married. I asked myself would Scott, Jeff Paul, Ben or Kerry be found at any one of the classes? No fucking way.

I had to laugh when I saw the folly. I also had to look at those men and think about what makes them great husbands. It's not that they expressively lament their pain out loud to strangers, bang on drums, dance wildly or go on yoga retreats. It's that they are loyal, easy going, hard working, responsible, nice people. They are not prone to drama, they don't drink, do drugs or cheat. They are cute in understated ways, they are helpful to their wives, active, involved dads and sweet husbands to my dear friends.

The exercise of taking the men apart and thinking about them in a clinical way helped me redirect my thinking about what qualities I should look for. It is from this new and enlightened place that I am approaching my latest foray into computer dating.

Wednesday's lunch fit perfectly into my new model so I am terribly excited. He did the appropriate note sending the day after. I could easily see introducing him to my other friends and their husbands and that is very exciting to me. There's a glimmer of hope that I may achieve normalcy after all.

I've been busy stretching my reality

2008-05-13T19:28:00.000-07:00

Well I am finally having the best sex of my life, the bummer is that it has come in the form of a 60 year old stoner who's married. I write that sentence and feel the seething cynicism I say it with and underneath I harbor a gentleness about the whole situation because I am learning so much from it. The challenge is not to let it last so long that it becomes a problem or an addiction because it has been a medicinal experience. My concern about myself is the danger of using medicine after the symptoms are gone because that becomes abuse.

I want to write about the quality and experience of the sex because it is so fun, so free and I feel my sensuality booming forth. I feel this is just the tip of the proverbial iceberg. At least I hope that is the case. I feel my feminine Goddess self surging forth and I want to illuminate and embody her in a sensual and intelligent way.

My mind is still trying to process the past month. I know there is plenty ripe for the writing, I am just busy keeping myself feeling too busy to give myself the gift of time to write. To really write about the depth of this experience. Suffice it to say, I think I am on the verge of meeting a true and appropriate Love.

MMMMMMMM can't wait.

I've come so far to go nowhere at all

2008-03-23T10:11:00.000-07:00

Another date down.

I had a promising blind date with a 54 year old Jewish Chiropractor. He was very nice on the phone, straightforward, engaging, masculine. We made plans to meet for dinner at Ocean Avenue Seafood in Santa Monica. 5:30 p.m. on a Tuesday.

In an effort to put my best self forward, I had my hair done before the date. ( I was due for a root job and trim). Quickly changed in the little dressing room at the salon and rushed over there, not even flinching while pulling up to the $7.00 valet parking. I was a woman on a date potentially about to meet my new life mate!

He met me outside, portly guy, about 5'7" he was friendly, there was no immediate spark but I am trying to unlearn a desire for that. We sat down, had the few awkward moments about what to order, both ended up choosing the Salmon with mashed potatoes, asparagus and a Pinot Noir cherry sauce-mmmmmmm. It's always the sauces that get my attention. That's where the real flavor is. I get lost in menu indecision based ont he side dishes not the main course.

The fish came, slightly undercooked for my taste, I sent it back, and we chatted. I asked him what he wanted and he told me what any normal girl looking for a husband wants to hear: companionship, listening, the "how was your day/" conversations, travel companion. His parents have been married for 57 years and his siblings are both in successful long-term marriages that have resulted in great business partnerships. So, that's what he wants, what he sees.

I sat there listening and thinking, do I really want that? It reminded me of the first job interview I ever went on after college. The man on the other side of the desk, was explaining the job and as I listened I sat there shrinking inside at the vision of days filled with mundane job tasks. The interviewer stopped, asked me "so do you think that's a job you'd want to do?" and my head answered, "is that a job anyone would want to do?" I couldn't drive away fast enough. The idea that is dawning on me is that life is a series of mundane job tasks and marriage is no different.

So my date was talking about what he wanted, and I percieved him to be emotionally open and vulnerable and real. I felt moved by his honesty and desire but was unable to muster any reciprocal feelings. In fact, I was so not reciprocal I began to wonder if this is something I truly want at all. It was the first time that I thought, I might not, I must not. Because, here's a guy, a nice, honest guy who wants what I think I want and I have no interest in pursuing it.

Am I afraid, is he not "the one"? I am not even sure I believe in a "the one" anymore. From what I have learned from watching my married friends, living together becomes very practical and unromantic very quickly. Credit scores outweigh fuckability scores in no time at all.

I thought to myself, "you could just dive in, jump on board, share this person's vision and voila you could have a relationship." It could be that simple (assuming he'd have me) but I didn't kiss him, so I would have to do that first to make sure there's some compatibility there, but maybe I have to just be practical , buck up and choose to create a life with those "companionship qualities."

The problem is I am starting to appreciate my life and my freedom and my assorted boyfriends who don't give me much in the way of emotional support but are around when I need to have my needs met. It's kind of easy and unencumbered as far as day to day activities go.

I also still have deep seated sense of my own evolution, I feel a constant drive to grow and develop and I fear that whoever I attract now, won't be attractive a few years from now when I have hit another plateau. I don't know why I think my partner wouldn't grow, or spur me to grow as well. Maybe I am still slave to my old friend "fear of intimacy" and maybe intimacy isn't so much about divulging one's deepest truths as it is letting someone know me in the mundane day in day out. As I write that, I have the sense of my skin crawling. Indeed, I still may not be ready for that job.

Eat one, Kiss two

2008-03-20T09:23:00.001-07:00

Oh my gawd,
It has been so long since I have felt the luxury of sitting down to contemplate a blog entry.
Since I have been waking up at 4:30 and 5:00 a.m. I could theoretically be getting up and doing it at that hour but I refuse to believe that sleeping for the night is over for me so early in the day. I refuse it so hard that I stay in bed until 8:30 and even 9:00 sometimes. Then I reawaken and feel bad about myself. Then I tell myself that sleep is healthy and it's good. Then I ask myself well is it really good for your heart to be in a reclining position for 9 or 10 hours and then I jump up, feed the cat and make toast.

Health has been on my mind lately. I have been reading about it. I started trying to find some research about the hormones estrogen and testosterone and what they do to women. I was looking for support on the theory that women experience decreased sex drive because they use up what testosterone they have being out in the world doing and achieving. I couldn't find that direct correlation but did correlate that stress, poor diet and lack of exercise is a big killer of the sex drive. And learned that 40% of women experience some sort of sexual dysfunction with the largest complaint being a drop in interest in sex. They don't have a single answer for why. It's because we are complicated beings. And our sex drive probably shouldn't be compared to men's in the first place.

So the reading has really brought the importance of healthy eating and exercise to my attention.
I am facing the fact that I have been in a lifelong denial of that fact. I have always willfully done what I wanted as if it were some kind of game or spiteful of vengeance at my parent who would harass and plead with me to lose weight. I feel as if some veil has lifted and I am mentally centered in a position that dictates that I choose differently, that I choose what I eat instead of just eating reactively. Somewhere deep inside I acknowledge that it makes a difference and I want to stay youthful and try not to get any more achy than I already am. I know change is inevitable but all the cliches about forming good habits and building a strong foundation are true and if I take on the attitude that I am still young and there is still time to build a healthy future, I can perhaps feel better at 50 than I do at 40. That thought excites me because I want a long, healthy sex life.

For Blogs sake

2008-03-08T19:22:00.000-08:00

Dear blog,

It is Saturday and I haven't written in at least a week. Bad me. I hope you will forgive my neglect as I have been busy writing for TheRAY.org and for my journalism class. Tonight, I am home nursing a cold and hoping it doesn't go down too far into my chest because I have some good on-site massage gigs next week.

I did reluctantly leave the house today to go and receive a cranial-sacral session from a friend who is studying and needed bodies. The session was ultra relaxing. I have been feeling so tired lately, tired in a way that feels so deep that I can't quite reach it with sleep and this session just might have helped me get a little closer to recharging my battery. I hope so. I thought my frown lines looked a little less deep when I saw my reflection in the bathroom mirror following the session; I also thought I looked a little tan.

Before heading home to burrow in for the night, I went to Wahoo's and ordered a fish burrito. While I was waiting for my "para llevar" order I got carried away watching two young men sitting at the table in front of me. One was at least 6'2" he had long fingernail beds, well groomed nails, a cute face and nice smile. Something about his manner, the way he smiled and spoke with his friend made me decide that he was a nice, good guy. While watching him and thinking how cute he was I began to reflect on how when I was the age that would have made him age appropriate someone like him would have seemed like an unapproachable demigod instead of just a guy. Sitting there today I thought he would have been easy to talk to and it made me sad to recognize how afraid of men or boys I was and how when I was younger I was unable to discern who was nice and who wasn't. I just lumped all males into one pile marked "scary" and threw away the key-except for the gay ones. They were my friends. A young fag hag lass I was.

Anyway these guys were talking about working out and getting the 6 pack abs. I was just fascinated by how matter of fact it was for them. They discussed how the 5th and 6ht rows were the hardest to develop-I never knew that. At on point, the other guy got up to go and get some Tapatio hot sauce and as he was standing I saw his tighty whities sticking out from below his Guns & Roses t-shirt. His ass was hanging over his jeans clear as a moon.

I know that isn't a new look, but it's one I still don't get. I don't understand how someone can walk around like that. His friend didn't flinch, didn't say a thing like "dude, your ass is clearly visible to the entire population of the restaurant, pull up your pants." How can that be comfortable? what's the point? When he sat back down on the chair, his pants were still below his ass. He was sitting on his underwear and I kept thinking, how can that feel right? Please, I wish I someone would explain it to me. He had a perfectly nice pair of jeans on and the waist instead of holding up his pants was holding up his butt and keeping his thighs together so he couldn't walk in a normal gait.

Personally I wouldn't want to be seen with someone who dressed like that. In my opinion, friends shouldn't let friends hang their asses out in public places. But then again, I am over 40 so what do I know, I should just be glad I didn't see any skidmarks too.

Robertson is officially obnoxious

2008-02-28T19:22:00.000-08:00

I was invited to a birthday gathering for an old friend today at The Ivy on Robertson. Upon receiving the invitation, I was quite excited. I haven't been to the eatery in a while and it somehow still maintains it's place as one of Hollywood's see and be seen locales. My ego got a little excited, we'd be there in prime lunch hour, maybe see some celebs or be mistaken for one.

My friend gathered 6 girlfriends she has known for over 20 years. The lunch was a tasteful but uneventful. Getting there, however, was a different story.

I was heading North on Robertson from the 10 fwy and it was slow going, one lane bumper to bumper. When I finally crossed Burton Way I saw what the problem was: A literal mob of paparazzi chasing someone. It took my breath away to see it in person, this fleet of people on foot, in traffic, cameras in hand chasing the car. I cried, I am not sure why, I've seen footage of this kind of behavior on TV but seeing it in person was ghastly, they were like rabid hounds, chasing a fox, completely oblivious to the fact that they were in traffic and holding it up. There were cameras across the street, people running in the street. I felt a palpable sense of desperation and urgency coming from the scene that affected me. It seemed crazy and pointless that my commute was interrupted by this insanity. How could anybody function with that kind of chaos going on around them? The scene was scary.

I passed the car they were surrounding, saw the back of the head of a young woman, hair ironed perfectly straight, I don't know who it was but I decided, I don't want to be famous.

Further on down the street there were more people with cameras. I drove past the Ivy, saw a line of cars 10 long waiting for valet parking and I decided to hit a meter and hoof it. All around me in the area it seemed people were obnoxious, the drivers at the intersection of Beverly and Robertson had no patience with each other, there were solo paparazzi waiting around and some beach bum of a guy walked up to me and asked "Where are all the celebrities?" I looked at him like "why the fuck should I know?" Hollywood lost it's allure to me today. I am not going to buy another gossip mag as I don't want to feed that machine. Live and let live in peace.

Another blind date

2008-02-19T16:16:00.000-08:00

Dating, I am hating dating right now. Had a blind date with a guy on Friday. At first sight, I wasn't thrilled. His car did not match my outfit, his chin did not match my breasts and my emotional iron curtain went up. All that happened instantaneously as I lifted myself into the Volkswagen Vanagon, buckled my seatbelt and told myself to be nice.

I think he felt it my thoughts as he went on to say that he used to have 2 cars and that this one was practical for work and he has just decided to keep it at one for now. I agreed it wasn't sexy but eased in to the vantage point of sitting up high and got over it. By the time we arrived at the museum, we had had a laugh and I was friendly. He was nice enough, mentioned he had a boat and took his daughter to La Coste. Okay, I thought those are things I can deal with.

A couple of glasses of wine later, we were really hitting it off. We toured the new Broad Contemporary Art Museum, marveled at the Richard Serra installations and blanched at the Damien Hirst Formladehyde Lamb. By the time we were ready to leave I thought that this is the first date in a long time that I could kiss goodnight. It was cold on the way back to the car, so I linked my arm in his and he then took my hand and cupped it between his. I noticed his hands were very soft and I liked that. He parked in front of my place, walked me to my door, where we said good night with a sweet embrace and quick kiss. He said "I'll call you tomorrow". I floated upstairs thinking I Finally met someone I can date.

He phoned the next day, left a " I had a good time, nice to meet you message" and I returned the call on my way home in the evening he didn't answer so I left a message.

Sunday, I was on my own, no writing class in the morning due to President's Day. I went to the farmer's Market on Main Street. Got a bag of my favorite Oro Blanco Grapefruits and went to Peet's Coffee to write and people watch. The people behind the counter at Peet's work quickly. I was imagining watching one of those sped up movies of a beehive or ant colony while I watched them. Finally after a homeless man fed something ominous to a fellow patron's dog, I decided to walk down to Venice and see if my friend was at his marijuana dispensary.

On my walk, I thought about the guy and how this would be a perfect day for him to come meet me. I grappled with the girl calling guy taboo and whether or not I should do it. Fuck it I decided I don't want my heart to be stopped by fear anymore. Seeing him was what my heart desired so I made the call. He answered and happily agreed to come meet me in an hour.

When he showed up we both seemed happy but subdued. He was a little off and explained that his stomach was upset and that he may not be his normal sparkling self. I made a comment like "well maybe you'll glisten" just to say "it's okay. I accept you." We went to Urth Caffe and split an egg sandwich and Jasmine Pearl tea (smells like heaven.) He claimed to like it all. We finished lunch, went back to my car, embraced, little kiss goodbye-no tongue and that was it. I floated home thinking we would have more fun in the future; my not-so-cute-weak-chinned-potential boyfriend and me.

Moday I saw I missed a call from him and excitedly listened to his message in which he affirmed I was a great person but that after some thought he did not see a future.

FUUUUUUUUUUUUUck. Not again. This took me by surprise and really set me off on a
crying jag. I felt sucker punched and have so many questions. Why couldn't he overlook the not quite perfect aspects and enjoy the company-just like I had been willing to do? I wonder what flaws he saw in me. Did I say something wrong? Eat too fast, insult his religion? At this point, I feel like I need to be willing to settle, to compromise in some regards because I want a place to share my heart.

My dispensary friend trying to cheer me up said " most people you go out with don't like you." That made me laugh because it's true. I always had an easy time making friends, not so with intimate relationships. I am trying to think positive and move on and believe that I am one more closer to the right One but damn, it's hard and I feel a bleak kind of emptiness that I don't even have the energy to make a joke about going out making up for it with a dildo or a gigolo right now.

Deadly Games

2008-02-14T13:56:00.000-08:00

The choking game. I was just reading about kids playing and dying from something they call "the choking game." It is a "game" where they asphyxiate themselves or a friend in order to experience a high from passing out. I am totally appalled, aghast and mortified. How can people be so stupid and insane?

I am frightened by the thought of any of my friend's precious children doing such a thing to themselves, it is truly a senseless way to die. As i am reading about it, a little lightbulb goes off in the recesses of my mind and I have a dim memory of this activity going on in my childhood. I think I may have event tried it but was unsuccessful. It was scary to me and I don' think we actually knew how exactly to make ourselves pass out. We didn't have the benefit of graphic examples at our fingertips on youtube.

Just for curiosity, went on YouTube and looked. I found kids passing out, and making eachother pass out. Mixed in with those were several memorial videos about kids who had perished as a result of the "game."

I also found adults at play. There were sexy women holding hot guys in chokeholds. I don't get it. I really don't. Call me square but bringing life endangering maneuvers into a love relationship is counter intuitive to me. The internet makes me feel so naive sometimes. I am sure it's not going to be long before some couple finds waterboarding sexy. It has probably been occurred already if I am just thinking about it now. "Hey honey, let's play the simulated drowning game tonight, the burn of water up my nostrils just makes me hot."

I guess that's the amazing ingenuity of people. If something is around to be done, someone will try it. We're all daredevils to our own degree of comfort and one person's stupid decision is another's triumph and or turn-on. The only thing at stake is one's life and I think that's the thing that bothers me most about the story is the kids and how to make them understand on a visceral informed level about the potential consequences of the choices they make in the name of play. I certainly don't have any answers to this situation but I am thinking that perhaps some BDSM dungeon master could start a program that goes to schools and teaches kids how to "play" responsibly.

Depressed and 40? You're not alone

2008-02-11T15:00:00.000-08:00

I just read an article on Yahoo News that says that the world over people in their 40's dip into a slow depression. "In a remarkable regular way, throughout the world, people slide down a U-shaped level of happiness and mental health throughout their lives" (Andrew Oswaled at Warwick University).
The good news is that it happens to men, women, single, married, rich, poor, children and no children.

I find this news liberating because it means that no matter what I do or don't do, I may feel depressed. It's not my perfectionism, my lack of a great love or career that really turns me on. Sure they may be contributing factors, or things that I can point to to explain the way I feel but essentially, I am just part of a big old wave that I can just bodysurf through my 4o's with the rest of humanity until it lifts.

I am writing this in a tongue and cheek manner but when I really stop to think about it and take it in, and recognize that perhaps a little depression is inevitable, not personal and just a long phase, I honestly feel a sense of relief and that makes me happy in spite of feeling depressed. I think I'll get out of bed today after all.

So, I can relax, take it easy, do what I want to do and enjoy my depression knowing that in about a decade it will start to lift.

Table Manners

2008-02-07T13:14:00.000-08:00

I have been a professional massage therapist for 17 years. By conservative numbers, I have rubbed 7,000 bodies. This means a minimum of 14,000 hands and 14,000 feet. It is an endless sea of backs, tight traps, stiff necks and hairy legs-but no penises, no vaginas and very few breasts-only for the purpose of loosening the underlying Pectoralis muscles.

I abide by a professional code of ethics. I am not one of those therapists. I cannot be found in the back pages of the LA Weekly offering “sensual massage.” I dislike that people hear my job title as some double entendre. You would never ask an attorney if he gives a “sensual” deposition or ask your doctor to describe his appearance you book an appointment. These are things I deal with. I work hard, I studied, learned about the musculature of the body, the bones have developed effective techniques to relieve stress and physical discomfort in 50 minutes or less. The client is face down for half of the massage. Why does it matter what I look like, you should be concerned about my hands.

I run my business very conservatively just to avoid possible misunderstanding or potential sticky situations. I was taught very early on in massage school never to use massage to get a date and I haven’t. I pride myself on the fact that I have been excellent at screening people and keeping my energy clear so that a client’s inappropriate behavior has never been an issue. The worst scenario I have experienced was a man who whispered throughout his sessions and while I found it quite annoying, it was harmless. And to answer your question, yes. Once in a while men do get hard-ons. It’s typically a relaxation response. If I don’t make a fuss about it neither do they. If the man seems uncomfortable about it, I do like we were taught in massage school: put an extra blanket or towel over them and move to another area of the body or hit a painful trigger point to redirect their attention.

I am a massage therapist because I love the human body. I think it is an incredibly magnificent creation. Once in a while I get a body on the table that is extra beautiful. It may be that they have unusually soft skin, beautifully sculpted arms, or just the way the muscles feel under their skin. Some people are incredibly soft and supple while still being strong and shapely. I tend to think that they are particularly well hydrated. Those bodies are so sexy and luscious that I just want to bite them (I don‘t of course) and those people get an extra special massage because my hands are enjoying them so much. It is a subtle difference in style but I wonder if it is perceived by the recipient. Are they sensing my appreciation for their beauty? Do they know my hands are eating them like a most delicious meal? Probably not, they just know I am an excellent masseuse and that my work feels really good.

One key to maintaining a long term massage career is to receive massage regularly. It helps replenish the well of body and spirit. Today it is my turn for a rub. I am lying face down on the table of my former co-worker D. D and I worked together at a Santa Monica spa for about 6 months until he moved to Vegas. I always enjoyed bullshitting with him in the break room between clients and my intuition told me he’d give a good massage. He left the spa before I made an appointment with him.

I am in Vegas with my old friend S on behalf of her 40th birthday. As part of her gift I arrange for D to come to the hotel and give us both massages. I go first and am pleased that my instincts about the quality of his work are proving correct. He has great technique and the quality of his touch is just the way I like it: firm but not overbearing. As massage therapists do, I am paying attention to his style. He is working my arms and back and what is particularly unique is the way he finishes off the strokes by going down my arms and doing a little flourish in the palm of my hand. There is something thrilling about it. He catches his fingers in the palm of my hand and draws these little circles before taking his hands away. I am transfixed as it has a sort of hypnotic effect on me. This goes on for a while when slowly a thought creeps to the front of my mind. He’s enjoying my body. In fact, I think I may be receiving one of those “I really like this body massages.”

When finished with the back he moves down to start working on my lets and glutes. At some point I think to myself “he’s pushing the edges here“. If we were at the spa this certainly would get him in trouble. I wonder if he always works this high up the thigh?

It is time to turn over. He folds the sheet down to just above my pubic hair line, puts a drape over my breasts and begins working on the front of my body. He uses long strokes down the front of my abdomen and up the sides of my body. It feels wonderful and I notice his hands come very close to the sides of my breast. It feels like a tease and in my state of relaxation I am tempted to throw off the drape in fact, I can’t even tell if it’s in it’s rightful place anymore anyway. Ultimately, I muster the courage to say “you have permission to touch my breasts.”
“Good” he says and does
Oh, it feels nice.
“you tell me when to stop” he says.
“Okay”

My mind is following his hands, he’s working my abs, my breasts, around the shoulders, nice circles, long sweeping strokes, it feels lavish and I am luxuriating in the completeness of it. Next he starts to work lower down the front of my body. Soon he pushes the drape down completely and begins massaging around my pubic mound. I am simultaneously stunned and curious when suddenly I gasp-HU, his fingers are inside me. Shock and ahh. How do I feel? Violated, surprised, good. I moan.

I am hot. My eyes are closed as I try to process this experience when the next thing I feel is a warm mouth on me. More shock, followed quickly by a powerful orgasm. OH, I think, wow, hmm…my mind is scrambled and then I giggle to myself as it dawns on me, I had happy ending. I participated in that act I swore I would never do. My circuits are crossed. He leaves the room to go wash up . I lay there not sure of what I feel mentally. Physically, I am tinglying.

He re-enters the room.
“Is that what you do?” I ask.
“No” he says.

I don’t know if he is lying or if it was special for me. I do know that he better not do it for my friend who is up next. He won’t he promises. He leaves to set up in S’s room while I loll of to bend in confused ecstasy.

I wonder, does this make me unethical? It’s still something i would never do, but I may receive “this” again.

Dress me up dress me down, just dress me

2008-02-05T17:10:00.000-08:00

I am in a rush to get dressed to go to a nice meal at Table8 courtesy of the DineLA restaurant week. I invited my mom and she invited two other friends. It's not normally the caliber of restaurant I get to enjoy because of the price point so I am very excited. I have seen the restaurateur and chef Govind Armstrong on Top Chef.

I am challenged by my wardrobe today. I look around my closet and it feels like reading the menu at a Mexican restaurant. There are the same five ingredients I have to keep recombining them to make something different. On the one hand I am amazed at my ingenuity. On the other, I'd really like some new clothes. My challenge is two fold, the amount of time I work doesn't leave me a large clothing budget and my body doesn't leave me the option of fitting in most things I'd like to wear.

I am an ample-busted woman with a big ribcage. My friend keeps telling me that if I got a breast reduction I wouldn't look that heavy because "really, you're not that heavy." I don't want to give up one ounce of breast tissue. I like my breasts. They're natural and they feel good and I don't have the same issue with my breasts that she had with hers so that she did get a reduction. When I see her now I think, "you really are happier being so flat?" She is.

I do wish that clothes were generally cut more towards my body type. I am rounder above the hips and skinnier below. I never fill out the hip and butt area of women's pants. I have a flat ass.
It runs in the family.

Ladies complain about the large size of their asses but I can say for certain that a little cushion to sit on is a valuable thing because a bonier butt doesn't give any protection from bleachers or metal folding chairs. Anyway, the typical women's cut is more ample around the hips and tighter around the top. Since I am the opposite clothes shopping can be quite disheartening. I see people around me that are certainly fatter than me and they are dressed and look nice and I think "if they can find clothes, why can't I?" I just don't know where they shop. There must be some sort of Diagon Alley for hard to fit women that I don't know about.

The worst part about it is that just when I start to feel good about my body and accept it, I'll go shopping and it will wipe out those feelings in one fell swoop. My body is wrong and I can't dress. I am a loser and will never look like the classy gal I want to be instead of the perpetually jean-clad casual person I show up as.

I'd like to wrap this up on a lighter note but I don't know how. Perhaps I will just leave the house wearing a fig leaf. That would be scary but exhilirating considering I've never even worn a bikini.

He was mine first. Can I just borrow him back for a while?

2008-01-31T19:03:00.001-08:00

As a single woman in her early 40's I find myself having to get creative and be open minded about relationship. I can't find it all in one man so in a way I have to make do with a patchwork of males who each fulfill different niches.

There is one I like to call my long distance semi non-boyfriend. I have gone to visit him 2-3 times a year for the past 5 years. We met at a friend's wedding. I was a bridesmaid and his brother was the groom. The wedding was in Detroit. Before the wedding, the bride told me about him, said he liked music, lived in California and that we should hang out. Upon meeting him I was not impressed, he didn't seem very friendly but he did have a friend who was very cute and who caught my attention.

At the very end of the night, I didn't want to go home so I schemed to go home with the two guys, hoping to make an impression on cute friend. Things didn't go that way and I ended up hooking up with brother man. As a result of the hook up, I extended my trip and he showed me around Detroit for a week. We had a great time. He took me to the cider mill, the jazz festival by the lake, we went to a casino in town and almost got mugged walking back to the car after midnight. I was never so scared in my life.

When it was time to drop me off at the airport to go home, he was very casual, no real talk of getting together in future or anything like that. So, we parted ways and that was that.

Ultimately I did end up in contact with him again and the arrangement that evolved was that I'd take a road trip up to see him 2-3 times a year for a long weekend. He lives near Salinas in a teeny little guesthouse, with a teeny little shower with a really shitty shower head and cobwebs in the rafters. It's a place that I'd never think I would want to spend time but when I'm there it feels like heaven.

There is a big pine tree right outside the kitchen window and he has a big deck that looks across a valley, all the hillsides around his place are strawberry fields. Being up there with him brings me back to zero. I slow down and get reminded of the simple things. A perfectly heated piece of whole grain toast spread with vegan butter and apricot jam served beside a sliced pear and a cup of french pressed coffee makes me feel like a queen. We'll take breakfast out on the patio to look at the view and talk about the day ahead. His robe will fall open and I'll admire his perfectly formed cock maybe caress it in between bites of toast. I miss it. I haven't been up there for about a year and a half since he got a girlfriend and this is where the point of this post comes in.

I have been thinking a lot about this and it is my opinion that our relationship was what it was: a sexual, loving, friendship, before he met her. I would really appreciate it if she would agree to letting me go up there for the weekend and allow us to have the kind of weekend we always had before he met her. I knew him first and the relationship was never going to be more than what it was, and I think it should be allowed to go on. I don't have to fuck him. That's fine , but I would like to be able to be naked with him and enjoy the serenity that I experience from being there and enjoying his simple lifestyle and enormous music collection.

It seems very clean to me. They are not married.

As I go down this train of thought I wonder if the shoe was on the other foot how I would feel about it. Could I muster the compassion for a fellow sister who misses a friend that I am now currently dating exclusively? Being here on this side, I can sincerely say that the emotional connection of the relationship is already established and pretty maxed out. We know it's limits and it worked. Could the girlfriend understand that and trust her man and me to allow us to do and be what we always were? I hope so.

I woke up in love this morning

2008-01-29T14:12:00.000-08:00

Not really. I woke up and looked to my right on my nightstand and there it was, my 8" rubber dong. It's really a lovely model, thick and erect, nice pink circumcised head. If I saw it on someone I would be duly impressed. I might wince as I saw it coming towards me but I would respect the man. As it stands today one hand I feel liberated to have entered the world of sex toys and on the other larger hand, I'd prefer the warm heart, hands, lips and body that normally accompanies the bodypart. In other words, dildo (check) now I have to find the gigolo.

Or, better yet, the love of my life.

Cock a doodle do myself

2008-01-28T19:32:00.000-08:00

A funny thing happened on my walk to get quarters for laundry today. I walked into a new "romance" store in my neighborhood, pulled out my debit card and bought a big fat vibrating cock. After watching all that porn and knowing that most of my friends have some sort of vibrator of their own, I figured why not join the club? Besides, I have to justify the name and experience of this blog.

I felt naughty and jaunty walking home knowing what was in my opaque black plastic bag. Did the valet guys I was passing notice what store I came out of? Would anyone recognize the logo that is etched on the bag?

My mind raced. I thought about the dirty underwear/car accident scenario that girls think about, only in my scenario a big dildo goes flying and all the E.M.T's and concerned bystanders are laughing. I resigned myself to it being found in my house when I die.

I remembered my acting teacher and how he used to talk about entering a scene with a secret or planting something on the set that would affect you and all these years later it made sense. If only I brought a hidden dildo to auditions with me, I am sure I would have booked something because the experience I had today was one of feeling extra alive walking down the street carrying my secret.

It was as though I had something everyone else wanted or would have an opinion about. I didn't feel normal. I felt powerful as if I possessed a secret weapon with magical powers that would surprise, shock, confront and amuse people. All I would have to do was whip it out and viola! there would be anarchy. I didn't of course but knowing I could was thrilling. It reminded me of the time I brought my blanket to school in first grade. I carried it in a brown grocery bag and would periodically reach down, stick my hand in the bag and touch it. I couldn't bear the thought of anybody knowing it was in there but I wanted it with me. It was a dual sensation of shame and excitement and getting away with something forbidden. I think I understand criminals a little better now than when I woke up this morning.

Once home, I forgot the laundry, closed the blinds and decided to have a go at it. Didn't take long to realize it is too big and it hurts. I had an inkling it might be in the store, but the girl got me so worked up about how good the suction cup was at the bottom, and that it was such a popular model that I decided to overlook my initial hesitation. That was stupid. What do I do with a barely used rubber cock?

At least I have gotten over the hump of purchasing the first one. (pun not intended but acknowledged). Maybe I will start a collection after all, this is dildos and gigolos.

Take two years and then decide if you love him

2008-01-23T18:48:00.000-08:00

I had a great blind date the other day. I posted an ad on Craigslist, got a few viable responses and ended up speaking with and making a date with this one. He had a good sense of humor and was easy to talk to and agreed to take me to the Santa Monica Pier and win me a stuffed animal. (Residual fantasy from not dating in high school).

We had fun and my negative voice kicked in. The list of what is not good enough about him unfurled in my head and I digressed from having enjoying myself to deciding why I couldn't marry him and worrying that he'd want to kiss me goodbye and I am not ready for that.

The truth is that as easy as I can be, I am also rather reserved. I really prefer the idea of getting to know someone and embracing that process of getting close slowly. I think of it as long, drawn out foreplay. A special time when accidentally letting elbows or feet touch is fraught with uncertainty and a little buzz, the silent questioning of whether it was accidental or was it intentional and did the other notice and if they did is it really permission for more. Maybe it's juvenile but like a baby growing up, it all changes so fast that if you don't savor it, you miss it and it's not something you can photograph.

One of my internal conflicts is that while I say I'd like to take it slow physically, mentally I am like a freight train. I'm starting to think that my propensity for projecting into the future and figuring out what's wrong with him and why I shouldn't get involved is very likely a BIG key as to why I am still single. My mind actually has me convinced that I know everything before anything has actually happened. Therefore, I must conclude that I am either a world class psychic or a really scared puppy.

I'll start working on the scared puppy angle because as a prophet I don't like most of what I see.

I consulted one of my most trusted and beloved friends, Oswa, about the subject. He has been involved with his partner for 8 years and they have a very happy, loving relationship. His boyfriend is cute, funny and a warm, wonderful person. Oswa told me that he didn't realize he loved his beau until 2 years into their relationship. That information floored me because they are so tight now. He said he liked him and they had fun and he grew on him and then one day it hit him that he loved him more than he realized.

The conversation brought me back into the present and reminded me that people unfold and develop as we know them and share experiences together. He posited that I don't even have to begin thinking about this guy seriously until several dates in. Another friend quotes someone who's dating philosophy is that the person doesn't even become real until the 3rd date. I guess that takes some pressure off. The ironic thing is I wouldn't even feel this much pressure if we didn't have so much fun. So in a way I have hope, and that scares me.

If I use it it's not a waste of time

2008-01-22T17:29:00.001-08:00

I am very intimidated by the idea of having a blog. In support of my efforts, a friend sent me a link to another woman's highly successful blog. In the blog, the writer talks frankly about sex as well as other aspects of her life.

I took a look at it, read one post and immediately went into a defeatist attitude because my blog will never be that good or well read or anything like that. I am really not even certain of it's theme. Therefore, it doesn't deserve to exist-the underlying belief about everything I do. But, I am not going to go there now. Just a side-note for a future post.

Another friend chided me for the name Dildos and Gigolos saying something to the effect of "why use sex?" I chose the name because I think it has a good ring and it made me laugh when it popped in to my head as I was pondering how I would cope with the fact that I may be single for the rest of my life. I think as we mature into lives we never imagined that we end up in situations we also never imagined and that interests me.

Like today, I got caught in the web of sex on the web. While I was busy perusing the aforementioned website I followed a few links and eventually ended up at a site called YouPorn. They have free porn there. I watched it all afternoon. I felt like a sick puppy but there you have it. I watched porn for about 2 hours. I told myself it was research and since I am posting about it here, which is just the activity I was avoiding, I am absolved.

I feel remorseful though. In the midst of it I sat there thinking about my friends who were hard at work earning good livings and then me, here, watching porn alone in my home on a potentially rainy day. I know that among the species in general I am not alone in the act of doing so but I guess I wish I were above it. I am certain that the people I respect the most would never spend an afternoon like that. If Jesus were alive today, would he watch porn? Probably not, but I could see Mary sitting there saying "so that's what I missed?"

My First Post

2008-01-16T18:31:00.000-08:00

Life is full of paradoxes, one I have the trouble with is the idea of letting go to get what you want. It makes no sense to me logically. In this physical world where I have been taught to work for what I want, to set goals and achieve them to do, do, do. Opening the door to the possibility that if I stop trying, step back and do something else for a while that things may fall into place while I am not looking is very hard to digest. I think of it as a cop out, or a sign of laziness. With so much help at our fingertips these days by way of the internet, phone, friends, organizations, organizations to help you find organizations and the plethora of day laborers standing around on the corner just waiting to give me a hand why can’t I just get things done in my own time?

I was hit with this conundrum again recently while speaking with a fellow red faced, sweat-drenched yogini after a Bikram Yoga class. Listening from the outside you’d think we were friends for years and not two women who didn’t even know one and other’s names.
The conversation flowed from yoga advice to uterine fibroids, job dissatisfaction and dating woes in L.A. She told me about her multiple false starts with online dating, how she’d like a guy and think they hit it off and would never hear from him again. Or the one that she did get seriously involved with only to leave him after he relapsed on Soma following a car accident. She even started a relationship with a man going through a bitter divorce and found herself enmeshed in heavy drama and helping out with legal bills. I listened, relieved I haven’t had some of those experiences but I am a bit cynical because I see she is sporting a serious rock on her left finger. When I point it out and question here, she smiles places her hand on her heart and says “now that’s a good story.”

I raise my eyebrows in a “do tell” gesture and wait for her to begin. Ever the romantic, I love to hear stories of how people find their mates because they give me hope.
She recounts to me how depressed she was after the boyfriend fell off the wagon. She was bereft, she swore off computer dating and told her friends not to ask about the guy or talk to her about men at all. She went into a suicidal depression and found herself face to face with the fact that she may never have her dreams come true. She may never experience the love that she just assumed would occur for her. She may never have kids, a spouse, a home any of it. Her fairytale may just not happen and she wallowed in for weeks. Then she says “at some point something inside shifted and I found a deep acceptance with the situation” “I decided to go about my life doing what I was doing and simply cease looking.”

“Then 2 weeks later out of nowhere I met him!” Unbeknownst to her, the man of her dreams walked up to her at a bar and she wasn’t even excited because she wasn’t looking. He took an interest in her, asked her out and she could have cared less. But he turned out to be a great guy and now they’re married.

“So,” she tells me with deep sincerity in her eyes, “make peace with being alone. I really think that’s when it happens.” “Thank you, I’ll try” I say while forcing a smile and masking the fury that was burning inside of me. If I had a quarter for every time I have heard a version of that story, I’d be able to buy a Hyundai for cash now.

Later that day I am walking around the neighborhood thinking about our conversation I decide to sincerely immerse myeself in the train of thinking that I may end up alone and somehow find comfort and acceptance in it. As I do, I ask myself how, how will I survive the lack of touch, the lack of closeness that I yearn for? Will I have to resort to dildos and gigolos to get my needs met?

At 42 I have already found myself in some situations that 15 years ago I would swear I would never be a part of and yet, as time goes on life gets more and more surprising. It’s my intention with this blog to give voice to my demographic, the single, angst-ridden female who is buckling under the tyranny of both society’s expectations of us and our hearts and guts deepest longings. What we want is the most natural thing in the world yet the lengths we have to go to find it these days are heartbreaking and at times slightly amusing.