Being Your Dirty Little Secret

I remember back in the early 80’s when David Lee Roth was still the front man for Van Halen, and I read an interview with him where he said (and I wish to God I had the exact quote… but I have to paraphrase this) that whatever you fantasized about in your dirty little mind was probably way better than anything he could give you in the bedroom.

I have always loved the concept of fantasy… role play… letting your mind wander into places, situations, and scenarios that may, or may not actually happen. I suppose that as a writer, that’s somewhat natural. But one of the things I’ve found most interesting about writing this blog is people’s reactions to it. Thus far, I’ve entered some topic zones that you don’t generally read about every single day. Some find my openness gutsy and bold; some find it sexy as hell, and others… completely creepy.

What’s been interesting, though, is that not many people will comment on what I write publicly. Some do, but for the most part, I get private emails that whisper, “Psst… I really like what you wrote… I feel that way, too! But PLEASE don't tell anyone I said so!” You know what? That’s all right with me. It’s those private messages that people send that are usually the most telling. It’s the people who don’t dare to step out into the sunlight carrying signs that declare their innermost feelings that I really write for. Don’t get me wrong, I write for everyone, but I love it so much when someone identifies with what I say and finds the courage to whisper to me that they found out that they weren’t alone; because if you can whisper it to me then someday, you can shout to the world.

If you read my blog and you find a way to express your bedroom fantasies to your lover, or if you read my blog and you find a way to tell your friend that something’s bugging you, or if you read my blog and you figure out that you’re not alone on some thought, feeling or opinion that you thought you were alone on, then I’m elated. If you read my blog and find yourself turned on, then I’m flattered. If you read it and you’re creeped out, well, I ask that you keep an open mind and keep reading, but I’ll understand if you don’t.

If you read my blog late at night, with the lights off, when you feel certain nobody’s looking, (and I know by my blog stats that many of you do) then I am honored and happy to be your dirty little secret. I’m glad to be your guilty pleasure, for it is when we’re alone with ourselves and our thoughts that fantasy begins to bubble into the forefronts of our minds… and fantasy is positively decadent. Fantasy is a great stress reliever. Fantasy is the one thing nobody can take from you. In your dirty little mind, you can be anywhere, doing anything, with absolutely anyone, and that’s as it should be. It’s from these wishes, hopes, and wildest dreams that we set our personal goals and figure out what makes us happy.

I encourage you to take the quiet moments when you find them and let yourself drift. Fantasize, dream, and indulge your senses in every pleasure you’ve ever found enticing. Inside your mind… you are the lord and master of all you survey, and the rest of us happily indulge your desires.

Well, good night, and … thanks for clicking on my link… it felt soooo good.

Beauty

Is beauty on the inside or the outside? From one of my all time favorite movies; Liar, Liar:

Max: My teacher says real beauty’s on the inside.

Fletcher: That’s just something ugly people say….

The fact is: it’s both places. But the thing about beauty is that (and I apologize for the cliché in advance) it is in the eye of the beholder. Everybody has different taste. We all have our own unique ideas about what’s beautiful. The key to being beautiful, really, is in being yourself, having confidence, and in liking what you see in the mirror.

I’ve mentioned in previous posts that I’ve never really had an issue with my looks. I’ve always liked my face, my hair, my figure… and never thought of myself as “ugly” or been one to get green with jealousy over how other women looked. Sure, I very was over-weight for a while, but even then I knew what was underneath the weight and though I wasn’t thrilled with how I looked in clothes or the fact that my waist was non-existent, I still saw “me” when I looked in the mirror and I knew that all I had to do was lose the weight and I’d be curvy and sexy again.

If you take a look at women, (and I know you do,) you’ll see that there’s a wide variety of flavors there. Blondes, brunettes, red-heads… tall, short… and everything from whisper thin to dangerously curvy. Most men see this as a luscious, tempting, endlessly delightful buffet of femininity. And, just like a giant buffet, they have their favorite dishes, but that’s not to say they’re all going to go for the exact same thing and leave the other items lonely for a patron. Too much symbolism?

OK, what I’m saying here is that not all men want a stereotypical Barbie doll. Sure, some men do like tall, slender, blondes with blue eyes. Personally, I have only ever dated one guy who would state that as his preference. That’s more than likely because I happen to be short, extremely curvy, and have dark brown hair and brown eyes. Guys who want Malibu Barbie don’t ask me out, and that’s as it should be. So how did I end up with that one gentleman who preferred blondes? The poor guy had a conversation with me and found out that real beauty’s on the inside. Oops.

Ultimately the relationship didn’t work out, but it wasn’t because I wasn’t pleasing to his eyes. In fact, although he did still ogle random Barbie types in public, it was clear that once he got to know me and looked at me with the eyes that liked ME for ME that he did actually find me very attractive. He would tell me as I changed clothes or stripped down to crawl under the sheets with him: “God you’re so hot… you’re so sexy!” Aside from him, though, most of the guys I’ve been with have been more into the dark-haired, dark-eyed, smoky, sultry, Salma Hayek types and that’s just FINE with me. Incidentally, I think she’s one of the most beautiful women alive, just so you know. Barbie never held any charm for me. How can you possibly look at Salma and think anything other than “Wow?” She’s exotic and curvy and everything about her just screams “WOMAN!”

There are billions and billions of men on this earth, and the ones who will be attracted to ME are the ones I’d rather hang out with. I just can’t see getting jealous of other women and wondering “What does she have that I don’t have?!” The fact is: Nothing. Attraction is just a funny thing. It doesn’t make any sense, there’s no logic to it. There’s no formula to it. There’s no code to crack. I know everyone’s mothers have said it but really, just be who you are. Just be the best YOU that you can be. In that way, you’ll attract someone who really wants you for YOU.

See, it’s not JUST looks that count. It’s about personality, too. This is why you can’t get bogged down in your appearance. This is why it’s so damn difficult to make a connection out there in the dating world. There’s a TON of factors that go into connecting with someone. Obviously the first thing is the involuntary “HELLO!” second when your eyes catch a glimpse of something pleasing. You take a second, more careful look… “What do we have here? Is that person as attractive as I think they are? Why, yes! They are!” Next, there’s a moment or two where you attempt eye contact. Your prey could lock eyes with you and smile… indicating that the initial attraction is mutual. Or, they could gloss right over you. It’s a crap shoot. Lots of people are attractive, but not everyone that you find attractive is going to find you attractive. But, if eye contact is made and the prospect looks good, then you can attempt conversation.

Even then, though, you could wind up disappointed. Maybe they’re an idiot. Maybe they’re an arrogant jerk. Maybe they have body odor. Who knows… the point is that you can’t worry about your looks, and you can’t be jealous of how other people look. You have to be you. You have to not worry about the ones who don’t find you appealing, and stick to the ones who do. Because the reasons why we want to be attractive to the opposite sex are… in the short run “in order to get laid” and in the long run “to find someone to love and to spend your life with.” Believe me, in the long run… it doesn’t matter if another woman has a different hair color than you, a different eye color than you, a smaller pair of jeans than you, better clothes than you, a cuter nose than you, or any other silly thing you might think makes her more attractive than you are. In the long run, the guy who’s looking for YOU isn’t going to give a shit if your friend has killer eyelashes or longer legs than you, because he’s going to be attracted to everything about YOU.

I’ve been known to say “Love is like Rambo” on many, many occasions. I believe that right down to my bone marrow. In the movie (not the novel… I’m talking about the 1982 screen adaptation of the novel here) “First Blood,” as the deputies are trudging through the woods looking for Rambo, Mitch makes the observation that “We ain’t huntin’ him… he’s huntin’ us” and he’s absolutely right. The fact of the matter is that you can’t hide from it. If Rambo wants to find you, he’s going to find you. It’s the same with love. There’s no running, no hiding, no keeping it out of your life. It has nothing to do with your looks, and it can’t be hunted down. When two people connect, it’s not about what color hair you have. It’s not about your facial features. Those things may be the initial attraction, but they are only skin deep, and what will hold you together will sure as hell not be beauty. So, be yourself, and be the best YOU that you can be, and never, ever be jealous of anyone. Appreciate the differences in people and celebrate them, but don’t wish to be anyone but YOU, because YOU are perfect just the way you are.

Going Down; Let’s Talk About Sex, Baby! Part III

Classic moments in oral sex: Remember the lunch room scene from Fast Times at Ridgemont High? Oh, who am I kidding… who doesn’t? Linda giving Stacy a lesson in blow jobs with a carrot, and when Stacy asks her: “When a guy has an orgasm, how much comes out?” Linda casually says: “A quart or so.”

Ok, now that you’re smiling…

To be blunt: I like giving head. From what I understand, though, a lot of women don’t. I also like it when men go down on me. And, from what I understand, there are actually women out there who don’t. Hmmm… I guess what I should say is that there are a number of women out there who aren’t all that “comfortable” with it.

When I talk to people and I admit that I like going down on a guy, the first reaction I usually encounter is disbelief. “You DO?!” Yes, I do. The next reaction (from women) is usually “WHY?!” This is accompanied by a look of either complete disgust, or, they appear to think I’m flat out lying. Or, (and this is probably my favorite) they flip out on me and tell me that if I give a guy oral sex, I’m selling myself short. I know, I know… silly. But really, I remember having a conversation about it with a friend of mine when we were in our early twenties, and she said to me, in all seriousness: “I don’t give head because why should I? I don’t get anything out of it!” I asked her if she expected her boyfriend to do it for her, and she said “Of course! That’s different! If he wants to have sex he has to get me wet first!” Uh… interesting justification… I guess.

So, people ask, how did I develop an affection for the act? Well, I’m not quite sure. All I know is that I truly like it. That’s not to say I’ve never had a partner I didn’t enjoy it with, or that there aren’t certain things that can turn me off about it, but in general, I love it. The first time I ever did it was with a guy I had a huge crush on and had been shamelessly chasing for months. I had only recently lost my virginity, and that had switched something on inside of me that wanted to know everything, and to try everything. We were in his bed, and things were heating up. Clothes had somehow landed on the floor, and I was exploring him with my hands and taking a really intense look at him. He whispered to me, “suck it,” and I shyly replied: “I’ve never done that before.”

He was surprised by it, and I think a little turned on, too. He gave me a quick short-list of rules and said “Just enjoy it.” So, verbal rule book in hand, I allowed myself to simply let go, and continued exploring him, adding my lips and my tongue to my already adventurous hands, and eventually took him in and found that it was a huge turn on for me. So much so that when he was ready to get me on my back and take things all the way, he had to pull my hair and beg me to stop. For me, there’s just something insanely erotic about it.

It’s interesting how different men can be in how they like it, too. Some men like it gentle and slow, some like it a little rough, some are into deep throating you and some only really like you to tease the head and let your hands take care of the shaft, keeping any sign of the fact that you have teeth well out of range. If you’re not like me, and you don’t enjoy it, but you want to please your partner, do yourself a favor and ask him what he likes. And DON’T be insulted if he says something other than what you’ve been doing. And guys: If your lady isn’t a fan… it’s possible you need to sweeten up your semen by eating more pineapple. Look it up. It works, and AMAZINGLY well.

As for being on the receiving end, (and I can’t speak for all women,)

What looks good on film (yes, I’m talking about porn) DOES NOT feel good in real life.

I’m sorry. I know that may have just broken your heart, or at least bruised your ego. But really, please don’t use your tongue as a pointy poker, and for the love of God, don’t beat the hell out of my clit. Think ice cream… you know… when it’s melting and you have to lick the sides and your tongue is flattened, and as you’re licking the soft, sweet stuff to keep it from running down your arm you make long, targeted strokes that cover a little real estate. You don’t lick too hard; after all you don’t want the empty cone in your hand and your creamy vanilla soft serve on the pavement, do you? Slowly the ice cream begins to behave… it finally comes to a place in the cone where you can apply a little pressure without fear of losing it. It melts faster and faster in the summer heat, until finally it’s slipped down into the cone, and you have to push your tongue into it, go after it… take it… don’t let it get away from you…

Again, though, check with your partner. For all I know, there could be a chick out there who’s totally into the pointy poker thing. I happen not to be, but don’t expect all women to be able to verbalize what they want in bed as easily as I do, or as easily as you do. This is one of the many crossroads between men and women. Men really want to know what women like, and women, often times, just want you to know instinctively.

In the wonderful world of oral sex, there’s really nothing more incredible than taking a few long hours and pleasing one another, either one at a time or engaged in a cozy sixty-nine for a good long time… heating things up and then cooling them down… teasing each other, talking to each other about what you like, coming to the brink of orgasm and then easing off… it’s both scorching hot and intensely bonding at the same time.

Have a wonderful weekend, everybody. You know what to do.

True Friendship

Did you ever meet someone for the first time and just “click?” It’s a great thing when it happens. It’s rare, but when you find someone you know is a kindred spirit, it’s exactly what life is all about. I am blessed to have at least six really, really close friends. People who I can really trust, confide in, and who I know I share a deep bond with based in trust and mutual respect. That all may sound very textbook, but really… most people can’t say they have more than just a few people who they have a true, deep, lasting bond with outside of relatives.

Friendship is probably one of the biggest joys in life, maybe even more so than romantic love. It’s friendships that hold us together when life falls apart. Its friends that we lean on when romantic relationships end. It’s friends that we turn to when we are sad, lonely, afraid, angry, or when something so unbelievable happens that we can’t contain ourselves. There are so many levels of this thing we call friendship, and the deepest ones take years and years to form. Years filled with conversations, shared experiences, ups and downs, disagreements, battles fought side by side and lots and lots of hysterical laughter. Getting to the deepest levels of these relationships doesn’t seem like much work to me, personally, because I happen to be a very open person (in case you haven’t noticed from my blog posts) and I think that people either like that very much and find it easy to talk to me because of it, or, they think I’m a fruitcake and run for the hills.

Recently, one of my closest girlfriends and I had a very intense conversation about how close our friendship has become. We’ve known each other for six years now. I can scarcely believe it’s been six years. In those years we’ve seen each other through so many major life events it’s almost ridiculous… divorce, deaths, heartbreaks, other friendships that have come and gone, attempted suicides, interventions, countless family crisis’s, surgeries, and the list goes on. We’ve laughed so much and had so many inside jokes that we basically speak our own language with each other now. We’ve discussed how we differ, we’ve discussed things we agree on that make us so friend-compatible, we’ve spent times when we lost contact and then came back together as though no time had passed. We’ve respected each other through choices we didn’t agree with, we’ve picked on each other when we’ve screwed up, and we’ve laughed at ourselves and each other in good fun. But what has really welded us together is the ability to be honest with each other. And, I think, that’s the same glue that’s bonded me with all of my other really close friends, as well.

When I was very young, I remember someone using the phrase “cultivating friendships.” I love that phrase because it is so accurate. Friendships don’t deepen because you simply spend time in the same room. Friendships deepen when you’re willing to give of yourself and take emotional risks. When you respect someone enough to want to have a deep bond with them, when you want to be able to confide in them and you want to know they’ll be there for you when you need a shoulder, you must take that leap of faith and let your guard down. You must move beyond the acquaintance phase and the Emily Post manners as each new experience you share bonds you. If you can’t let your guard down then you can expect to never have the kind of intense, deeply fulfilling relationships with your friends that will really make your life … and theirs… so much better.

Will you get hurt? Absolutely. From time to time friendships end. Sometimes badly, and sometimes unintentionally. Sometimes you get to know someone and find out they either aren’t who you thought they were, or they aren’t someone you can respect, and you must walk away. Sometimes you get to know someone and find out that they aren’t trustworthy. And sometimes, as strange as it sounds, you get to know someone and find out that they aren’t willing to open up and allow you to be there for them, and it’s a strange sensation… but one you know will keep you at arms length forever. Most times, those relationships don’t last.

But, when you meet someone who you mesh with… someone who gets you, and who you have a mutual respect and admiration for, then friendship that lasts the test of time and withstands insane obstacles can grow. I am so, so blessed to have more than a handful of these. You know who you are; I love you all and will always be there for you. Thank you all … individually … for being exactly who you are.

A Phoenix For Your Gasoline

I wrote this poem in the depths of a devastating heartbreak this past autumn. I have described the process of heartbreak as trying to walk down a mountain. You are constantly circling it as you descend, and one side of the mountain is your pain. At first, you see the pain constantly, as you circle the narrow peak over and over. As the descent widens, you see it less often, as your travels around it become wider and wider. Eventually you are fooled into thinking you've reached the bottom, but then you realize, you've only been making the widest circles yet. Each time I revisit this spot, I must remind myself... I'm almost there.

October 25, 2010

A Phoenix For Your Gasoline

Do you know why we burn?

Why we go up in flame?

Do you know why

We go through this destruction and pain?

Gasoline

You set me on fire

A love so deep

So hot

When you came all over me

Gasoline

You had what you wanted

You had it all with me

I burned with desire

Gasoline…

And you walked away

And you left me in flames

Tossed a match as you tossed me aside

You smiled and warmed your hands for a moment

Over the fire you’d set

Hoping I’d die

But you don’t know why we burn

You don’t know what you started

When you covered me in gasoline

And left me burning

And yearning

For your love’s fire

Your gasoline

It all burns off

Flames sear me,

A cloud of smoke

And I know why we burn

Gasoline

You didn’t kill me

For I am a Phoenix

And I will rise

Gasoline

You don’t know why we burn

But one day you’ll learn

When you feel this destruction and pain

Seek me out

For I am a Phoenix

And I’ll show you the ashes

The smoldering lesson

The reason why we burn

You walked away

You left me in flames

Tossed a match as you tossed me aside

But know this

Gasoline

When you came all over me

I burned with desire

But from those ashes

I rise

For I am a Phoenix

And I will never die.

When Your Rock Breaks

Today’s been “one of those days.” Not one of the days when everything goes wrong, or one of the days when people act nuts… it’s been one of those days when your rock breaks. If you went to high school with me, you might know what that means. For those of you who don’t...

Have you ever had one of those days when you wake up feeling somewhat blue, and as the day progresses you just feel lower, and lower, and lower? It seems like people are blowing you off, it seems like your friends have no time for you, and it seems like you might have been better off to stay in bed and hide under the covers all day? Well, one day back in high school, a very close friend of mine was having just that sort of day. She was so bummed out and sad, that at the end of the school day, I said to her, if you could do ANYTHING right now, within reason, what would you do? She wanted to go to the playground and swing on the swings. So I said “Then let’s go swing on the swings!”

We got into my car, and I drove her to the playground, all the while she was telling me all of the crappy things that had happened to her that day. When we got there, there were no swings on the swing set. They were literally just gone. She took one look at the empty swing set and said “See? The whole world is against me today!” I knew how she felt. I had had plenty of days like that. So, I said “Ok, what else can we do?” She spotted a hopscotch board painted on the sidewalk and said “Can we play hopscotch? I haven’t done that since I was really little!” I said sure, and, as is customary, we both searched around to find a small rock to toss on the hopscotch board. I told her she could go first. She tossed her rock, and it didn’t even bounce. It simply hit the ground and busted into three pieces. We stood there looking at it in total disbelief. It was like a metaphor for the whole lousy day she’d been having.

Today has been like that. What started off as a mild feeling of blue has morphed into full-blown “bummer.” There are so many little things that normally wouldn’t bother me, so many stupid things that people said that wouldn’t normally upset me, and it all seemed to converge on me like an avalanche until finally, the proverbial rock broke. And once that happens, there’s nothing left to do but say “Ok, that’s it. I’ve had it today.” At some point, the sadness either gets the best of a person and they give up and crawl into bed with the tissues and a box of Godiva truffles, or they get pissed off and say “Screw this! Ok, life, you wanna shit all over me? NOT HAPPENING!”

When you’re having a day of pure and simple depression producing events please try to remember that tomorrow is another day. Even though sometimes there are a few broken rock days in a row… there are always brighter days at the end of the tunnel. ALWAYS. And if for some reason, you can’t get to a box of chocolates then get yourself a heavy bag and some gloves and go to town. But never, EVER let that broken rock get the best of you. EVER. It’s ok to be sad sometimes, you’re human. When you are, let it out and then let it go. Just like Rocky… Get up. Keep moving forward.

Why ME?

In case you’re wondering why the ME is in caps in my blog title, there are two reasons. One somewhat silly and rather sentimental reason is that my best friend sometimes calls me “Mother Earth.” I got into the habit of signing my correspondence to him simply with:

Love,

M.E.

But the real reason why the letters are in caps is slightly deeper than that. The main reason, bottom line, is that nobody else can make me happy. The only person who can make me happy, is ME. The only person who can give me confidence, inner strength, passion, integrity, good health, a big smile, a positive outlook, and what I really want out of life… is ME. And as you read this, ME is YOU.

The fact is that for a long, long time in my life, I came last on the list of priorities. I always had a good self esteem, and I always trusted myself and my instincts. I always got along with the woman in the mirror, and I always liked myself as well as loved myself. But in life, sometimes we tend to forget about ourselves. We take care of other people, we take care of business, we take care of responsibilities, and we find ourselves on the back burner. Not because we don’t think we’re worth the time and attention, but because there are only so many hours in a day, and so many days in a week. Before we know it, years slip by and one day we wake up and say “Hold on a second… what about ME???”

In my case, when that day came, I made major changes. (That’s a post for another day.) I believe with everything that I have and everything that I am, that we cannot love others unless we first love ourselves. I believe with everything I’ve got that we can’t take care of others unless we take care of ourselves first. Loving and respecting yourself is what gives you the strength to look at unhealthy situations and say “This is not right, and I’m walking away and not looking back.” It’s what gives you the strength to inflict “tough love” on the people in your life who need it. It’s what gives you the strength to follow through when you give someone your word, whether that word is “I’ll take you to the movies” or whether that word is “Do it again and you’re punished.” In other words, it’s what gives you what you need to stick to your guns.

Saying “ME” with strength and conviction when you speak of yourself isn’t arrogance. Saying “ME” with gusto when you speak of yourself is how you let yourself know that you are your own source of everything you need in life. And when you love you, then you are prepared to give love, and to accept love. It’s something that’s been said since the beginning of time, and it’s something that is faded and thin with age, having been said to death, but it’s the truth.

After any given tragedy, or drama, or heartbreak, or disaster, you will ask yourself:

Where am I ever going to find the strength to carry on?

And you must answer:

Inside ME.

It’s always there. Be strong. Be confident. Rely on yourself and take care of yourself. And always be kind to yourself. YOU are your own source of everything you need.

That’s The Power of ME.