The Kiss Off

It’s been more than four years that we’ve been playing this game. First we finally established a committed relationship that lasted for nearly two years. Eventually I broke up with him, thinking we weren’t moving any farther forward. There would be no next step—no marriage or kids definitely, but not even moving in together, though I spent four to five nights of the week there, and was spending most of our time together remodeling his house. I had met a lot of his friends, but he kept his flashy work life separate from me—to maintain his cool bachelor status. I never met his mom, who literally lived 10-15 minutes away, and once when she made a surprise visit to the house, I was asked to hide in the bedroom.

The year and half we weren’t together, we remained friends…sometimes with benefits. We still had this bond between us. We still enjoyed spending time together in small doses, and whenever I saw him unexpectedly, it made me light up.  When I was terribly sick, he was always there, never ashamed to take me out in public, even with my embarrassing (to me) ailment.

So fast-forward to almost a year after he started the talk about how he felt I had misconceptions about him and what he was all about in the relationship department, we tentatively decided to give it another try. Some things have been great and wonderful and had me thinking this reconciliation was totally worth it. He was more affectionate. When he was home from work and spending time with me, he truly wanted to be spending time with me, not his projects and gadgets.

Other things made me think he had gotten even worse in selfish independence. He’d go for two weeks or more without wanting to see me—and he called me high maintenance for wondering what the scoop was. Was it too much to think that a man I was exclusively dating would look forward to seeing me and put me as a priority?

Apparently, to him, it was too much.

The biggest disappointment, though, was this past week when I was at my sickest and loneliest, he didn’t call. He didn’t text. He had no idea I had to be taken to the ER for a second time. He didn’t know the medical treatment was kicking my ass. He didn’t know my doctor was removing me for my work duties for much longer than I anticipated because my treatment was going to require that much out of me.

It’s not as if I wanted to focus on all this. I knew how to be upbeat and talk about the other good things going on in my life. He always talked about his work too, the projects he was working on, his sick, elderly cat, whatever. It would have been nice to just hear whatever he had to say.

By Friday, I gave in.  “Are you living?”

Later that night, “How doin’?” he asks.

“Is that a rhetorical question, or do you really care to know the answer?”

Next day we text back and forth about how even old friends I haven’t talked to since before high school were reaching out to me…yet he hadn’t. He replied that he was busy with projects, works, etc. “I figured you were doing your own thing,” he said.

What? Doing my own thing like losing some of every meal, collapsing on the floor at least half a dozen times a day, having random moments of unconsciousness? Sure I’ve also tried to at least have a hand in the news publication that it still mine but I can’t officially be writing for and running right now. I’ve been catching up on Netflix and reading.

But yeah, I would welcome a phone call from the guy I was dating.Everybody is busy, not just him, yet they still carve out a minute of their time just to say I’m thinking of you.

So yesterday, after telling him, I finally get it—that he just doesn’t think enough to phone or text to see how I am (whether I am sick or not), I wrote an obvious kiss off. He tried to ignore it today, asking, “how are you feeling?”  I ignored him.

I am done. He can go try to find someone more perfect. He can find his dream girl, Spanish “chick.” I am done with his shit, and I getting off this bus for good this time.

I may not be a high priority to him, but I am one of the highest priorities to myself.

Next blog, remind me to share what happened with my police officer…now, that’s a funny story.


Please Forgive Me, I Know Not What I Do

Forgiveness is a mysterious temptress. Sometimes she flows so freely from your every pore, like air from your lungs.  Before anyone even has to open their mouth to beg for forgiveness, she has been freely, fully given, with no conditions or catches. Once you have been forgiven of your transgressions, the matter is truly over, left in the past where it should be buried in a shallow grave, given its proper regards. Life moves on.

Sometimes forgiveness digs her heels in. She must be earned. There are some things that can’t and shouldn’t be so easily forgiven. Infidelity. Big lies that can’t be simply explained as  I just didn’t want to hurt you by telling you the brunt reality.  Or, “I forgot to tell you that I’m actually living here illegally, and I have another family in Mexico.”  You must bow down to your ego and realize that you aren’t as clever or as wise as you thought you were. You have seriously hurt someone, probably someone you care about very much. And because of this, they’ve lost some degree of faith in you. They feel like they can’t trust you.

You can’t just win them back with a joke or a bouquet of flowers. You will have to spend some serious time working to regain their trust. You will have to be transparent. You will have to realize that you can’t keep everything to yourself anymore. You will have to be held accountable. You will have to treat the injured party like a king or queen, respectively. You will have to say you’re sorry, feeling it and meaning it from the bottom of your heart. You will have to say it so that he/she knows it in their core that you mean it. You will have to pay for this transgression until you’ve earned entry through that door that leads you back into your partner’s inner circle. Her walls have been let down and she can trust you with her love again. She can once again feel your respect and admiration for her.

Forgiveness often remains just at the edge of our fingertips, waiting to be learned. Some peoples’ walls have been built up so high from all their past bad experiences with other people at other times, they genuinely don’t know how to let other people back in again. It’s a process, often brutal and never simple. Sometimes their partner has the patience to stand by their side, give them space, while still letting them know they are loved and admired. Sure there has been pain both ways. Sure they both need to let go off hurtful things said, past wrongs, poor choices, and yes, that damn variable of bad timing. Sometimes people fear that learning how to forgive is a sign of showing weakness. In fact, I think forgiveness is one of the strongest things we can do, not only to others, but for ourselves.

When we carry around our pain, disappointment and hurt over all the ways people have wronged us in the past, we block ourselves from moving forward. We create a toxic cloud around ourselves that prevents us from truly seeing what is in front of our eyes in the present. We don’t allow ourselves to live in and enjoy the now.

We can’t forgive and we definitely can’t forget, so we get mired in the past. We relive it like a broken record that never stops replaying. We grow so used to it, we think it must be what we need, where we should invest our time and emotion. Instead we’re just paralyzing ourselves, keeping ourselves from living the best life we are meant to live.

So how do we learn to listen to forgiveness when her whisper is so quiet, yet admittedly so sweet? We must come to her like a child. We don’t know it all, and we can’t pretend to. We must be willing to get still and listen to the true drumming and thrumming of our heart beats. What are they secretly telling us? Do we want to stay mad at this person we love possibly more than anyone else we’ve loved before? Have they really committed a transgression so great that it cannot be overcome through time, personal and spiritual growth, and love? These answers aren’t easy and you may have one answer today and a different answer next week. But the point is to listen and to keep an ear out for consistency. Which answer do you keep finding yourself turning back to?

Learn to know yourself so well that when your heart gives you truth, you can recognize it clearly and soundly. This often means stepping back and taking a lot of personal time, meditation and for some, prayer. Don’t be afraid of your solitude. Or the silence. Don’t be afraid of the mood swings that are sure to follow. Forgive yourself if you sometimes fall back into bad habits during this process. The point is to get through this process. Journal your journey. Talk to people you feel you can trust. I pray about it. Sometimes, this process takes a month, sometimes it takes a year. But when your eyes finally open wide, you know when you are capable of forgiveness or not.

You know whether you can and should take that big leap again. You know when a surprise 3-hour Skype call can start you dreaming again, when the flood of memories aren’t so bittersweet anymore–they’re just sweet. You know when you both have matured and transformed enough as individuals that you feel the potential that maybe one day there might come a time when you both truly can forgive each other again. When you know there is just too much good that outweighs that bad. You sit at the computer at 3:30 in the morning, and you realize, “That sneaky forgiveness may have slid her way back into my heart once again.”

My Personal Guide To Having Great Sex

Recently, while lying next to each other post-coitus, my man said, “That was amazing—almost unbelievably so!” He marveled over the wonderful chemistry we shared, until he added, “Or maybe it’s just you. Maybe it’s always like this with you.” He tilted his head to the side and looked at me suspiciously, as if he was trying to figure out where I’d picked up my bag of tricks.

Now, I wouldn’t even have given this a second thought if it weren’t for the comments of a former lover. He was commenting on my body filling out even more (of which I was proud after years of looking nearly anorexic) and teased, “so you’re building those (boobs) up, huh?”  I said something along the lines of, “Yeah, I gotta get them ready for making movies.” He replied, “Why do I think you’ve already been making movies?”

It was said all in jest; I was flattered. But I began wondering if, for woman, there came a point where being too good at sex was intimidating to men. I started pondering if I should take a leave of absence from sexual activity for a couple years, get a little rusty, and return back to being average.

A man would never ponder such a thing, would he? It is manly to be experienced in the sack, and a guy is expected to be a killer lover or else fear inadequacy in some way. There is, of course, the double standard with women. Men would like us to be good in bed, but not necessarily from lots of practice. Well, sorry men, we don’t earn your title of Best Giver of Blow Job right out of the gate. It is an art form, culled from years of practice with various techniques to see what works best with which partner.

I’m past the max of 3 lifetime lovers, including my future husband, my naïve little head imagined when I was 21. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to settle down. First serious boyfriend and I were together for 2 ½ years before going across the country to college eventually got in the way. College boyfriend and I were together for four years before illness and distance ended us. I healed and rebounded. The Bulldog and I dated for three years, and there was serious talk of marriage, but he was a bipolar pothead whose temper caused even his best friend to break up with him. I rebounded. The V-Man and I were officially together for 2 years before I realized he was too selfish and immature for us to ever get to marriage. I immediately fell in love with HH afterward. That fizzled, and then followed a series of ill-conceived attempts at relationships with men so wrong for me.

So here I am, 32, with more experience in dating and intimacy than I ever imagined. I’m not exactly ashamed of what I’ve learned about myself, or of men, for that matter. I certainly relish the fact that I am finally so comfortable in my own skin that I am proud to be the woman who is singleinmy30s. It’s nice when a perceptive man can sense and admire that too.

I’ve certainly learned a great deal from all of my experiences; like, what makes a great lover anyway? There are a number of factors that come into play when distinguishing one partner’s lovemaking yawn-worthy and another’s mind-blowing bliss. It’s easier to begin with what isn’t as crucial as we’re sometimes led to believe.


It’s not all about size

I knew a man who when he whipped off his pants, would literally make one do a double take—as in, did I just stumble onto a set of a porno, by accident? It turns all he was, in the end, was just one big dick—in every sense of the word. And a painful one at that.

I’ve since welcomed a partner who is even more well-endowed. Yet he is both tender and passionate, aiming to please—in and out of the bedroom. Intimacy with him is pretty darn awesome.

However, before him, I was swept off my feet by a man who was average-sized but a rock-star in the bedroom. We were both flexible and acrobatic, and we could position ourselves at wonderful angles, he coaxed me with sexy not nasty talk, and our lovemaking was literally like a tango, flowing electric, sexy move to the next.

(And there was that one lover who was literally the length and width of my pinky; but let’s just forget I ever mentioned him, because I forget about him all the time.)

The harder, the better, right?

Wrong. There is no need to try to break my cervix with every thrust. I love really deep penetration in moderation, but for me, variety is key. Roll with it. Tease me, just like I tease you.  When I can’t take it anymore, drive it home, baby.

Sex does not have to be a marathon to be marvelous

I am not going to lie and say that those several hour love-fests with requisite breaks for recovery before jumping back in don’t have their awesomeness. A man also can impress me with his mind-over-matter control to delay climax until he’s made sure I have come first (not as easy as it sounds), or preferably, at the same time he is (rarest of all for me). However, at some point, women can dry up or get sore, no matter how much lube you use. Case in point: 2009cansuckit’s broken vagina story. I also am a big fan of the wildly passionate, I just can’t hold off any longer, you’re making me so hot, I’ve-got-to-come-now quickies. I totally get off on being wildly irresistible to a man.

Not all creativity is a good thing

In college, my boyfriend came up with the brilliant idea of using the ice cream that we had taken from the cafeteria in the bedroom. Of course, we were in my dorm room, on my top bunk. Ice cream melts a lot faster than you think it does, especially on warm bodies. It was wet and sticky disaster. On a much later night, he redeemed himself by using a bird feather to lightly run over my body, and it felt very sensuous and sexy.

Costumes are a good thing. It’s the adult version of playing dress up. I can’t tell you how many times men who thought they were too tired, stressed or not in the mood came out of their shell completely once I stepped into the new persona with a costume. It’s you, only temporarily transformed into someone unfamiliar yet familiar at the same time. It can make the dresser-upper feel sexy and flirtatious too.



Do you realize how many people there are out there who have sex, and plenty of it, but who cannot actually talk about it with their partner face to face? This is sad. How will you find out what your partner specifically likes and loves? Or dislikes and hates? You can’t base it on prior lovers or what you read in Hustler magazine or what you saw on your web porn. Every lover is an individual. Take the time to find out what arouses them—both mentally and physically, if they are more visual or tactile, and how they like to be touched. If you can’t talk to your potential lover about these things, then you probably shouldn’t be sleeping with them in the first place.


A huge factor to wonderful lovemaking is respecting your partner’s boundaries. If your partner absolutely does not like anal play, which I didn’t with any partner before V-Man, don’t force it, don’t keep trying to cajole her into it; just LET IT GO. And if your partner revealed that she liked it in the past with someone else, it’s no guarantee that she automatically wants to do it with you right away or ever, even.

Likewise, if you’re thinking about bringing a new toy into the bedroom, try to get a feel for how he or she might respond before springing it on them. I’m still remembering the shock I felt when an ex left the room in the middle of sex and whipped out a penis extender (no, I don’t even know what the hell it’s called, but it goes over the actual penis). Truly, he really didn’t need this. I didn’t want it. He saw the look on my face and immediately said, “No, I don’t even know why I brought this out, we don’t need it.”

As for bondage: to me, the average, only slightly naughty girl, there is good bondage and bad bondage. Good bondage is with a partner you trust who lightly ties your wrists together with a scarf that you can easily get out of when you both are ready for full contact since it’s impossible for you to keep your hands from connecting with his body for long. Bad bondage is when the boyfriend who already scares you with his intensity boy scout knots you to the bed with a tie so tight that it’s literally impossible to move, let alone break free. Some like it really rough, some don’t. Find out which your partner is.


This requires communication, not all of it necessarily verbal. Read each others signals. Look into each others eyes. If one of you slows down, the other should be in the moment, aware enough to realize what’s going on, and be able to meet your rhythm. If you’re with your partner long enough, it’s great if you can read their body for when they want to go faster or slower, deeper or just barely in, and when they’re about to climax. But when in doubt, just ask! As for verbal communication, if your lover says, “Squeeze my nipples,” that’s not so much a suggestion as a request. Honor it if you want to make her happy. Know who you’re in the hay with. Call each other by name. It makes the connection that much more electric.


If all you want to do is focus on my ass, and you totally neglect the vajajay, then that makes me a sour puss. If you are a cunninglinguist, but you ignore my boobs, I will feel like you feel like they aren’t worthy of your attention. That or you are just too lazy to learn that the proper manipulation of my nips can really contribute to my arousal.

Trust me, they feel great; try it.

Likewise, if I ignore your balls and only focus on your penis, that may leave some of you equally unsatisfied. And there are some men who like getting their nipples brushed or the spine of their back grazed too.

Find out what your partner likes and needs to achieve pleasure. The topic of balance greatly overlaps with the next, which is…


I LOVE to please a man. I almost take it as a personal insult if a man pushes me away too soon from orally pleasing him to get straight to the booty. Of course, this may just mean he knows he’s a quick shooter, or he may be like a couple of the older partners I’ve had who just haven’t ever gotten off orally. I can usually persuade them to see the benefit of letting me continue (i.e. “That’s the most incredible blow job I’ve ever had!” said by lover at the top of this post).

On the flip side, I also like to be orally pleased. I told this same lover that there are men who absolutely hate to go down on a woman. He looked genuinely puzzled and asked “Why? It’s amazing down there! I love it.” I of course told him he was the kind of man that a woman adores.

If you notice a lack of reciprocity, talk. Yes, I know it’s awkward as ass sometimes, but do it. It may be a hygiene issue. Or it may be something completely unrelated to you. The Bulldog went down on a girl at a college party in the dark, and when he came out of the room, his face was covered in blood because the girl never told him she was having a visitor that day. He was horrified and humiliated, and it’s haunted him ever since. Talking led the way to understanding and a pact that I would be sure to communicate my “red-letter days.”

Also, ladies, don’t always insist the man be on top. Take the initiative sometimes, and drive. It gives his legs and arms a break, and for you, it can be incredibly fun, so fun that you may get carried away, so listen when he begs you to slow down.

Post-coitus cuddle

This is admittedly a more personal-to-me characteristic of a good lover. I actually have found that men are much more cuddly than I am after sex. I’m petite and thin and can easily fit inside the arms and bodies of even the smallest guys. But not all cuddlers are built alike. I feel like a lover and I fit together best when their bodies are responsive to mine even in sleep, when I am comfortable, my neck not all bent out of position, my breath not squeezed out by an overly tight arm, when I can actually relax (again, so rare for me), and possibly even fall asleep in their arms, then I know I’ve found something good.

I’ve found the right fit, in cuddling and in coitus, with men 6 inches taller than me and men over a foot taller than me, some skinny as a rail, some with broad shoulders and round bellies; it’s not so much about size, it’s about how well you and they communicate, emotionally, verbally, and physically.

All of the above are important factors in what distinguished average sex from amazing sex for me. So if you care to, take what you will from what I’ve learned over the years. Play smart and safe, and have fun.

Feel free to comment with your own do’s and don’ts for excellent sex.