Slut Shaming, Miscommunication And Amazing Sex

Back in the Saddle

I saw George again. A week had passed since we'd last been together when I received a text from him during rush hour which read, "You must be in need of a massage later".


I will never decline his invites (as long as I'm free) due to his track record of sexing me down and his actual massages. We settled on the when and the what I should bring with me:  massage oil -- and condoms.

I'm working with a good stash so that wasn't an issue. The issue came moments later.

Lay Your Hands On Me

Back in the Saddle

Source

Yes, this encounter includes a massage, just like my story of the same name, but this one ends differently. It begins differently too.


On a Sunday night, I, minding my business, checked my phone and saw 3 new text messages from George*.They'd been sent almost 2 hours prior. I was in another room yucking it up with friends and hadn't heard my phone ring.


I turned down George's invite to go over to his place. It was late and I had settled in to do some writing for the night. He revealed he was alone and figured he'd ask anyway. No harm, no foul. I teased him that he was gonna guilt me into saying yes but I really had to do my writing. If things were different on my end I would've just invited him over.


Text from George: No problem. just come here :)


I told him I wouldn't get much writing done at his place. For one of the few times in my life I didn't mean that with any adult or sexual undertone. I figured it would be like the first night George and I met and I went over to his place -- we'd sit and talk, he'd play his instruments, we'd sip on orange juice, he'd light up, we'd discuss art and the artist's life...


That's not what he had in mind this time.

He Only Plays with Pussies

Back in the Saddle

The first pussy he played with that day

It all started with his question: Want to meet? I was down. It'd been about a year since we'd last seen each other.


Wait, here's a little backstory:  I read an article about Bushwick and they mentioned his cafe. I sent him the text: Bonjour! Ca va? It's been a long time! I told him about the article I'd read, asked how he was, he asked if I wanted to meet, fast forward to:


I wasn't up for meeting him that Sunday night. He text me:  It will be hard to wait until tomorrow... I wanted to kiss you everywhere, to lick you everywhere...


Well, that's one thing he didn't lie about. I said I could meet him halfway, that I wasn't going to Bushwick etc. especially if it's late. He suggested brunch on Monday because that's his day off. I was game thinking it'd be at a restaurant. He text: We can have brunch at my place, I'm a cook, remember... Yes, i will pay for your cabs.. (I told him I wasn't taking the train out there). He asked me if I "prefer a shaved face or not". I told him I like facial hair to which he responded: So, I don't shave...

Random Communications During Hurricane Sandy

Park Slope, Brooklyn, NY, October 30, 2012, the morning after Hurricane Sandy

On Monday, October 29, 2012, Hurricane Sandy made landfall in New Jersey. The  post-tropical superstorm (it was no longer a hurricane at that point) had joined forces with a Nor'easter and was generating blizzards, torrential downfalls, winds up to 100 miles per hour and very impressive and destructive storm surges, which were made even worse by the full moon, along the Eastern seaboard of the US.

Masturbating To The Thought Of You

"I'm gonna take some alone time before work...taking you with me ;)"  I received that text yesterday. I asked if he was texting with one hand. After a long break he said he was, that "I did quite well" and sent visual documentation of proof of work.


Without even being physically present, the thought of me aroused a man to the point of erection, masturbation, orgasm and ejaculation. We kid that anything can get a man to that point, but it's something else when he tells you it's you.


I'm currently reading Sex, Sin and Zen by Brad Warner. Beyond the adolescent footnotes about sex there's something to learn about how modern-day Western Buddhists view sex, relationships and the concept of sin (there is none for sin is a Christian thing). Warner tells of a time when he dated a born-again Christian who believed masturbation was a form of cheating because of the Bible quote "that to lust in your heart is the same as committing adultery."


Good Lord.

Been There, Done French

I was talking to a guy about travel. Naturally, Paris came up in the conversation. I told him it would've been great if I had visited Paris in my 20's but that I was also glad to be going now as a full-fledged adult. I'd have a better handle on the language, and what to expect from the locals (namely the men). I won't be seduced, instead I'd choose the man I want and then let him think he seduced me.


The guy I was speaking with isn't from NY so I asked him if he'd heard of the Dominique Strauss-Kahn case (DSK is now counter-suing the hotel maid he is accused of sexually assaulting). He had vague knowledge of the case and I explained to him what I'd learned, while researching the DSK scandal, about the sexual entitlement French men seem to exhibit -- the séducteur. How much of that is actually "fah real", he asked.


Let me share the story I shared with him.

I Didn't Ask To See Your Penis

Note: The above was NOT forcibly removed
"Storm Drain", Man. Toy.

These men...no matter how old, they just love to whip it out

That's a text message I received from a girlfriend after I told her I'd received a dick pic seconds before. I replied to her: Yeah! It's like their badge or something!


Men and their penises.

They love to show them off.

Even when you didn't plead to see it.

Even if they've never met you.

Cyber Contact And Communication

Before the internet, there's no doubt people were curious about how their exes, one-night stands, could-have-beens or former friends were doing after they'd come and gone from their lives but they didn't have the means to find out without hiring a PI or asking a friend of a friend. There wasn't instant access to someone's day-to-day life. Nowadays, there's frequent trolling of someone's Facebook page, Twitter stream or coincidentally running into someone at the location they just checked-in on Foursquare (that last part is their own fault). I even know folks who get somewhat irritated or annoyed if they log-on to check-up on a former down-low and there are no recent posts; there's an expectation that the "ex" will keep them in the loop with updates. Then the freak out begins: What's up? They not using Facebook anymore? What are they doing? Who are they with?

This Blog Is About You

A few days ago, I mused randomly on Twitter: Each time I write a story about someone, they're gone from my life (bed) soon after. It's like a sexual obituary.


I don't blog about my current paramours, flings, partners (pick a word). It just so happens at a reading I participated in last night, another author mentioned she wrote a book about her lover and then they broke up. She told us she definitely learned her lesson. I do blog about my friends if there's something fun or funny, amazing, karmic, sweet or ingenious that happened. But I won't get too personal or give too many identifiable details about them.


We live in a tell-all society where everyone wants to know-all about everyone else but themselves.

How Bold Is Crazy?

It's 6am on a Saturday or maybe 4am on a Thursday. They're on your mind. You want to talk to that particular person. Or have some sort of contact with them. So you psyche yourself up to be bold. Then you start to come up with any excuse not to reach out to them--it's too late, it's too early, they'll think you're bothering them, maybe they're with someone else...

You toss and turn. Can't sleep because you're too busy replaying all these could-be scenarios in your head. You log on to Facebook or Twitter and do some cyber-stalking or just a cyber check-in (we're trying to stay away from 'crazy'). You see they're online. They've posted something 5 minutes ago.

Refresh

Half-Assed Ode To Technology

If you know me personally, you know how I feel about chat, IM's, text messages etc. It's fine to share small bits of information quickly but I believe if that is your primary or only means of communication, you're hiding from something, using that as a crutch. You tell yourself, oh I talked to her yesterday, or he said this to me... Really? Did you really talk? Did all those lol's when you didn't even crack a smile or were rolling your eyes get your point across? How many times have you had a "fight" over text cause someone mistook what you "said"?

The Death of Casual Sex

In the 10 or so years I’ve had a sex life, I’ve been with a fair number of dudes. Ya’ll don’t need an actual number but it’s less than 100 and enough to learn from. And as a yougin, it was always fun, carefree and casual. But in this day and age, is sex really casual anymore? Do people actually want casual sex?


I genuinely liked a few of the guys along the way, so I let them in. And that’s the way it should be. Get to know him. Make sure he respects me and doesn’t treat me like a game. We can play all the games and use all the toys we want when the time is right, but to get to that level of intimacy and comfort you have to like someone, know someone or just click instantly.


I’m getting up in years. I still have the supple, taut body of a 28 year old, but I think my spirit is 62. Experiences and past lives. I’ve been lucky and survived all my sexual adventures; the goal being to let them in without them leaving anything behind. But I’ve learned from every experience. I was cool with the idea of "friends with benefits", but you gotta be friends, duh. I was fine with never calling someone again and sometimes got annoyed if they called me (don’t dare text me the morning after). If I did talk to them or see them again and they start spewing phrases like, “When can I see you again?”, “You bring me joy”, “I really like you”, I would question whether this guy ever had sex before!


For me, the time between each romp has grown. I still twitch and get irritable if I enter states of celibacy longer than 2 weeks but it’s more important for me to actually want to be with him instead of just being horny. It all boils down to having a connection. All this damn texting limits connecting and people use it as a buffer; they hide behind it. Then they get upset or hurt when all they get in return is a text after having sex, or what they thought was a connection, with someone. Folks jump from partner to partner because they want to connect with someone. The further we get from each other and only rely on text messages or IM to communicate, the more we crave true human interaction. We end up in bed together at super speed, with an orgasm (hopefully), yet still left unsatisfied.


You’re thinking of someone right now. Call them. Schedule a hug.