I've just pulled up my chair whilst I have myself a up of hot chocolate - yes, I know, hardly hip and all hat jazz, but I am an almost old lady now. And, I rather enjoy hot chocolate.
But anyways, the thoughts I wanted to share was the one my friends and I have been discussing this evening. Penis size. I was telling them about some views on the subject I found on another blog, and it ended up kicking off into quite an open discussion. Two men, two women and one hetero couple and a whole lot of opinions.
I think size does matter. It does to me. I'll be honest and say I don't want to find myself having sex with a man with a 4inch appendage. Nor do I want to find myself with 8+ scary inches staring at me. Its a happy medium, but I would rather err on the side of a little too large, than a little too small. But strangely I don't really know where I've come up with this criteria. I've always had partners pretty much in the 'average' range. Maybe small does feel equally nice, especially when you think alot of the sensitivity is infact around the front of the vagina. However, there is also something to be said about length and that feeling of being...full. I've never dated anyone who seemed extraordinarily large either, and this is the crux of the matter...I've never gone around measuring my partners either. Okay, I confess, I did once measure Husband #1 with the tv remote control, but that was the closest I came to measuring his buddy. How do we know what average is? It seems to differ depending on where you get your information from. Some say 5.5inches, others 6.5.....I've always thought of average being in the ranges of 6-7inches.
Our discussion this evening seemed to hang on the thought that we women tend to insist that size doesn't matter because we don't want to see that look of insecurity and panic cross the mens faces. A man can be a bit portly, have a little love handle or two, be balding and grey....and the man will usually take this in his stride. Suggest he is 'average' in the penile sizage department and its sheer panic and a quick pulling back to the other side of the bed.
So are we women being dishonest and just trying to avoid bruised ego's....or does size really not matter? Its got to matter surely?
I have asked the womens equivalent question and asked if I am tighter than average. I was curious and especially so after the birth of my child. Which was strange as I had a c-section. But, part of me wanted to know how I compared (not that many of my partners have been particually prolifick in their sexual activities), and of course, if I had been told 'baggier than a bag ladies handbag'...I would have been devastated. I want to know I am choking the monkey with those worked-out and highly toned inner muscles. Well, they feel toned and worked-out to me when I go for a bi-weekly adventure in that area, but I want my partner to tell me that too.
So tonight we debated the merits and reasons for large and small and the end result was that the men did not seem particually at ease with the conclusion that we all seemed to agree on, which was yes, size does seem to matter to women.
Sunday, 22 November 2009
Saturday, 21 November 2009
Rampant rabbits and silly men in holds
So about 5 years ago, I started to chat online, an interesting place named after a type of meat. Not thebeef. Nor thechicken. Nor thelamb. Anyway, I chatted and after some time met a particually handsome and enticing man who for the sake of embarassing him, we'll call Wilbert. Well, Wilbert and I hit it off in a big way, and soon I was being initiated into the seedy world of webcams, phone sex and cyberland. After a year, we decided to meet up and I agreed to fly some 5,000 miles to the US of A to see what would develop. I of course hoped with all my heart and lady hormones that Wilbert and I would instantly connect and have wild monkey sex for the three week trip. However, being the level headed wise old lady that I am, I wasn't going to count them little yellow squeeky things til they had hatched and so, I packed my favourite Ann Summers rampant rabbit sex toy (the deluxe version, which I can highly recommend to all the ladies and and lovers of all things electronic) and I set for for the USA.
The first leg went smoothly and I found myself a O'Hare airport awaiting my connection. 'It's alright Miss Cougar', said the nice lady at the Gate, 'Your bags are being moved directly onto the internal flight, there's no need for you to check them back in again'. 'Excellent', was my thought.
An hour later, I'm slouched in one of those oh so not comfortable airport chairs at Gate K15, when a message comes over the tannoy, my ears pricked up...'could Miss Cougar please go to Gate K15'. I could. But why? Had my plane taken off without me? Had I done something wrong? Why? why? I wondered. So I made my way to the desk.
'Ah, Miss Cougar' said the same nice lady who had explained about my bags, 'Miss Cougar, I'm afraid we need you to come down to the plane and check your luggage. I'm afraid there's a strange noise coming from one of your bags'.
'Really?' I'm thinking. 'What could that be?' I wonder, as I follow the nice lady down the ramp and along to the waiting plane. We approach the plane and I see all the bags on a carrier, some laying on the ground waiting to be unceremoniously thrown into the plane. 'A strange noise?' I'm still pondering to myself. Then, as I spot my bag, sitting slightly apart from the others, it dawns on me. The noise. Oh crap!! My rabbit!
I hastily turn to the nice lady and in some embarrassment I utter the words 'Oh gosh, I think I know what's making the noise; its a little embarrassing I'm afraid'
'Thats okay hon' the nice lady drawls, 'you just need to verify that everything in your bag is okay'
And I look down at the offending bag. It's sitting there, its zipper has been pulled apart, the contents rummaged through already....and a quiet, soft gentle humming is coming from within. I look up at the nice lady, but she's got her back half turned to me, a slow smile on her face, and thats when I hear the start of some snickering from within the planes cargo hold. And I know at that point that this whole calling me down is just for the benefit of the cargo handlers, currently crouched out of sight in the hold, having a good giggle at my expense.
I want to hang my head in shame and bite my lip, but instead I stand up tall, open my case and pull out my wonderful deluxe rampant rabbit and for all the airport to see, I lift him high and turn him off before silently putting him back in my bag.
As I turned away to walk back up to the Gate, I hear the roars of laughter errupting from the hold and the nice lady and I look at each other and she smiles without saying a word as I go through various wonderful shades of puce.
Moral of the story? Always remove the batteries from your toys before travelling.
The first leg went smoothly and I found myself a O'Hare airport awaiting my connection. 'It's alright Miss Cougar', said the nice lady at the Gate, 'Your bags are being moved directly onto the internal flight, there's no need for you to check them back in again'. 'Excellent', was my thought.
An hour later, I'm slouched in one of those oh so not comfortable airport chairs at Gate K15, when a message comes over the tannoy, my ears pricked up...'could Miss Cougar please go to Gate K15'. I could. But why? Had my plane taken off without me? Had I done something wrong? Why? why? I wondered. So I made my way to the desk.
'Ah, Miss Cougar' said the same nice lady who had explained about my bags, 'Miss Cougar, I'm afraid we need you to come down to the plane and check your luggage. I'm afraid there's a strange noise coming from one of your bags'.
'Really?' I'm thinking. 'What could that be?' I wonder, as I follow the nice lady down the ramp and along to the waiting plane. We approach the plane and I see all the bags on a carrier, some laying on the ground waiting to be unceremoniously thrown into the plane. 'A strange noise?' I'm still pondering to myself. Then, as I spot my bag, sitting slightly apart from the others, it dawns on me. The noise. Oh crap!! My rabbit!
I hastily turn to the nice lady and in some embarrassment I utter the words 'Oh gosh, I think I know what's making the noise; its a little embarrassing I'm afraid'
'Thats okay hon' the nice lady drawls, 'you just need to verify that everything in your bag is okay'
And I look down at the offending bag. It's sitting there, its zipper has been pulled apart, the contents rummaged through already....and a quiet, soft gentle humming is coming from within. I look up at the nice lady, but she's got her back half turned to me, a slow smile on her face, and thats when I hear the start of some snickering from within the planes cargo hold. And I know at that point that this whole calling me down is just for the benefit of the cargo handlers, currently crouched out of sight in the hold, having a good giggle at my expense.
I want to hang my head in shame and bite my lip, but instead I stand up tall, open my case and pull out my wonderful deluxe rampant rabbit and for all the airport to see, I lift him high and turn him off before silently putting him back in my bag.
As I turned away to walk back up to the Gate, I hear the roars of laughter errupting from the hold and the nice lady and I look at each other and she smiles without saying a word as I go through various wonderful shades of puce.
Moral of the story? Always remove the batteries from your toys before travelling.
The lost art of flirting
Where did it go too? Or is it just that men and women have stepped off a shared path and have different expections?
Back in my prime, a flirt started with a look, a soft smile and it went on like that for a while.....casting your eye over to the man at the bar, and looking away after another smile when you caught him looking at you. It went on to the buying of a drink.....sharing a conversation. I'd listen to him attentively, nodding and smiling, allowing the warmth of my personality to reach my eyes. And he'd nod and smile back and slowly but surely, we'd lean in slightly on our stools and knee's would touch. It wasn't we were frightened of leaping in to hardcore flirting, but we enjoyed that slow slow build up....that curling of the stomach at the smallest touch....the mind wondering whether the touch lingered or not. We'd take the time to laugh and lean in a little more, hands brushing against each other and the touches lasting just a little longer.
I remember one man, after a few hours in a crowded bar yet feeling we were sharing a very personal moment, my hair had dropped across my face and he reached over and gently slipped a finger along the strands of hair, and gently tucked it behind my ear again. My stomach lurched and a flood of feelings punched me hard, ranging from the fatherly protectiveness of that touch, to the intimacy of what a hand can do. As his thumb brushed gently across my face I fought an urge to close my eyes and turn my face into his hand....I think I closed my eyes for the briefest of moments and exhaled at the image of what I would like to have done.
Now when I sit at the bar, I still find myself catching the eye back of an interested party, but the buildup has gone. He comes over immediately and the conversation is quickly directly to innuendo's and it seems that is the marker used to gauge whether I am reciprocating his intentions. Respond to the innuendo and the green flag goes up, play too coy and he loses interest.
So where did it go wrong? Is flirting also a casualty of our 'I want it now' society? We no longer want to invest in saving up for something, we buy now and pay later. Has flirting gone the same way? Get the goods now, invest the time into the person later?
A close member of the family who is only 15 years old recently confessed to me she was sexually active. I held back the horror and the desire to berate and flood her with all the advice I wanted to give her. But in the following conversation she told me she had felt sure the time was right as they had been together for a long time. Curious as I had not heard of this boy til her confession, I asked how long she and he had been dating. 4 weeks. I feel sorrow for this generation, underage sex apart, they are missing out on the pleasures of all that excitment and buildup that preceedes that first sexual encounter.
Are they also losing the pleasures of good foreplay as a result? I suspect they are. If they are jumping from A to Z and skipping out most of the other 24 letters...it stands to reason they are not getting to experience the range of emotions and fun to be had.
Maybe we should bring back the concubines.....ladies to teach the men the art of tease and flirt as well as making love. Maybe we need to instill into our sons the importance of being articulate and charming as well as a good lover. Of course, in a truly equal world we would have men to teach our daughters the art of seducing a man, the art of conversation of how to tease and deliver in the right doses.
I feel we are losing something that gives such pleasure. In our rush to score a goal we are missing out on alot of great play. Bring back the good old days
Back in my prime, a flirt started with a look, a soft smile and it went on like that for a while.....casting your eye over to the man at the bar, and looking away after another smile when you caught him looking at you. It went on to the buying of a drink.....sharing a conversation. I'd listen to him attentively, nodding and smiling, allowing the warmth of my personality to reach my eyes. And he'd nod and smile back and slowly but surely, we'd lean in slightly on our stools and knee's would touch. It wasn't we were frightened of leaping in to hardcore flirting, but we enjoyed that slow slow build up....that curling of the stomach at the smallest touch....the mind wondering whether the touch lingered or not. We'd take the time to laugh and lean in a little more, hands brushing against each other and the touches lasting just a little longer.
I remember one man, after a few hours in a crowded bar yet feeling we were sharing a very personal moment, my hair had dropped across my face and he reached over and gently slipped a finger along the strands of hair, and gently tucked it behind my ear again. My stomach lurched and a flood of feelings punched me hard, ranging from the fatherly protectiveness of that touch, to the intimacy of what a hand can do. As his thumb brushed gently across my face I fought an urge to close my eyes and turn my face into his hand....I think I closed my eyes for the briefest of moments and exhaled at the image of what I would like to have done.
Now when I sit at the bar, I still find myself catching the eye back of an interested party, but the buildup has gone. He comes over immediately and the conversation is quickly directly to innuendo's and it seems that is the marker used to gauge whether I am reciprocating his intentions. Respond to the innuendo and the green flag goes up, play too coy and he loses interest.
So where did it go wrong? Is flirting also a casualty of our 'I want it now' society? We no longer want to invest in saving up for something, we buy now and pay later. Has flirting gone the same way? Get the goods now, invest the time into the person later?
A close member of the family who is only 15 years old recently confessed to me she was sexually active. I held back the horror and the desire to berate and flood her with all the advice I wanted to give her. But in the following conversation she told me she had felt sure the time was right as they had been together for a long time. Curious as I had not heard of this boy til her confession, I asked how long she and he had been dating. 4 weeks. I feel sorrow for this generation, underage sex apart, they are missing out on the pleasures of all that excitment and buildup that preceedes that first sexual encounter.
Are they also losing the pleasures of good foreplay as a result? I suspect they are. If they are jumping from A to Z and skipping out most of the other 24 letters...it stands to reason they are not getting to experience the range of emotions and fun to be had.
Maybe we should bring back the concubines.....ladies to teach the men the art of tease and flirt as well as making love. Maybe we need to instill into our sons the importance of being articulate and charming as well as a good lover. Of course, in a truly equal world we would have men to teach our daughters the art of seducing a man, the art of conversation of how to tease and deliver in the right doses.
I feel we are losing something that gives such pleasure. In our rush to score a goal we are missing out on alot of great play. Bring back the good old days
Thursday, 19 November 2009
A womans right to choose
There are days I just want to bang my head against a wall. This is one of those days. Abortions. .....yes, that old chestnut. But my frustrations here aren't over the moral right or wrongs of abortion but about whether men really have the right to say whether or not women have the right to choose.
Let me start at the begining. The arguement in question was about what rights women should have regarding abortions. Should they be allowed to [Quote] have the taxpayer pay for their mistake all because they were too lazy to check that the guy screwing them wasn't wearing adequate protection [end quote].
So firstly, I was pissed off that the 'mistake' is firmly pinned onto the womans lapel when the reality should be that both participants should be responsible in using birth control and the consequences of not doing so.
Secondly, why is it always the assumption that women who choose abortions are doing so as a form of birth control and that they are lazy......uneducated......etc etc?
Okay, so lets be honest here. As much as birth control should be discussed before the act of sex, and although we all know that the casual sexual encounter should be done wearing that rain mac because quite frankly, its about more than an unwanted pregnancy these days; we know that when push comes to shove, the general consensus is that its the woman that could get pregnant, therefore its the woman that should ultimately be responsible for birth control. Its a kind of get-out clause for men. Its a womans body at risk of pregnancy, so its down to them right? 'If she doesn't want to get pregnant, she should be on the pill' Right? So where does the man take responsibility? When an unwanted pregnancy occurs and suddenly he can't bear the thought of his heir and offspring being aborted?
Whether for birth control, or for medical reasons, or because she is being coerced or pushed into it....no-one really has any sympathy for the women in this position. I have heard (usually) from men that an unwanted child should be put up for adoption, or that a fetus with severe deformites should be allowed to take its chances. How does a man, who will never understand the physical feelings associated with carrying a child, ever be in a position of authority to tell a woman how her pregnancy should proceed.
I am not suggesting for a moment that his feelings don't come into it, or that he cannot take part in the joys, or tribulations of pregnancy. But the harsh rality is that he cannot experience the feeling of those first 'flutterings' or the way you rest a hand on your bump and feel him move around, the way he stamps on your bladder and has you running for thr bathroom. And a man cannot understand the dificulties undertaken by women considering abortion.
We'd like to think that abortions are in the domain of the illiterate or the uneducated young girl who without this means of birth control, would be popping out kids every other year to men than fail to stick around for more than a few months. But the reality is that the woman who typically has abortions is middle class, a housewife, usually with other children. And she's decided she doesn't want this one. It's a decision usually made with the support of her spouse and it becomes either their private hell or a shared release of breath as their joint decision means that life isn't about to become unmanageable.
Through our moral codes we have narrowed the acceptable reasons for abortion to the point where there really are none. Pregnancy through rape is not a good enough reason, the mothers safety isn't reason enough, a young girl pregnant with no parental or spousal support is not reason enough anymore. So we crucify these women who have made a personal decision for whatever their reasons, and we stand on our moral high ground and tell them how wrong they were, and we throw the label of murderer at them.
How have we as a society got to the point where we damn women for doing what is right for them. When did we lose sight of the fact that abortion is about a womans choice....its not the same as saying it's an obligation
Let me start at the begining. The arguement in question was about what rights women should have regarding abortions. Should they be allowed to [Quote] have the taxpayer pay for their mistake all because they were too lazy to check that the guy screwing them wasn't wearing adequate protection [end quote].
So firstly, I was pissed off that the 'mistake' is firmly pinned onto the womans lapel when the reality should be that both participants should be responsible in using birth control and the consequences of not doing so.
Secondly, why is it always the assumption that women who choose abortions are doing so as a form of birth control and that they are lazy......uneducated......etc etc?
Okay, so lets be honest here. As much as birth control should be discussed before the act of sex, and although we all know that the casual sexual encounter should be done wearing that rain mac because quite frankly, its about more than an unwanted pregnancy these days; we know that when push comes to shove, the general consensus is that its the woman that could get pregnant, therefore its the woman that should ultimately be responsible for birth control. Its a kind of get-out clause for men. Its a womans body at risk of pregnancy, so its down to them right? 'If she doesn't want to get pregnant, she should be on the pill' Right? So where does the man take responsibility? When an unwanted pregnancy occurs and suddenly he can't bear the thought of his heir and offspring being aborted?
Whether for birth control, or for medical reasons, or because she is being coerced or pushed into it....no-one really has any sympathy for the women in this position. I have heard (usually) from men that an unwanted child should be put up for adoption, or that a fetus with severe deformites should be allowed to take its chances. How does a man, who will never understand the physical feelings associated with carrying a child, ever be in a position of authority to tell a woman how her pregnancy should proceed.
I am not suggesting for a moment that his feelings don't come into it, or that he cannot take part in the joys, or tribulations of pregnancy. But the harsh rality is that he cannot experience the feeling of those first 'flutterings' or the way you rest a hand on your bump and feel him move around, the way he stamps on your bladder and has you running for thr bathroom. And a man cannot understand the dificulties undertaken by women considering abortion.
We'd like to think that abortions are in the domain of the illiterate or the uneducated young girl who without this means of birth control, would be popping out kids every other year to men than fail to stick around for more than a few months. But the reality is that the woman who typically has abortions is middle class, a housewife, usually with other children. And she's decided she doesn't want this one. It's a decision usually made with the support of her spouse and it becomes either their private hell or a shared release of breath as their joint decision means that life isn't about to become unmanageable.
Through our moral codes we have narrowed the acceptable reasons for abortion to the point where there really are none. Pregnancy through rape is not a good enough reason, the mothers safety isn't reason enough, a young girl pregnant with no parental or spousal support is not reason enough anymore. So we crucify these women who have made a personal decision for whatever their reasons, and we stand on our moral high ground and tell them how wrong they were, and we throw the label of murderer at them.
How have we as a society got to the point where we damn women for doing what is right for them. When did we lose sight of the fact that abortion is about a womans choice....its not the same as saying it's an obligation
Wednesday, 18 November 2009
Introductions and confessions
At last….I find myself joining the millions and buying into the world of blog. Be prepared for moments of insanity, clarity, snippets from the private world of a sexually frustrated woman, gossip and the rantings and ravings of a rather odd woman.
As most of you will get to know, I am a user of a particular chat site that is somewhat sexually forward and is what is known as ’No Holds Barred’ chatroom. Not that you have to talk sex whilst in there, far from it, but you have to be prepared to accept ‘anything goes’, and is, and sometimes the chatters can be cruel, unsophisticated and downright feisty. But a huge reason I visit is their political forums where the duelling there is worse than swords at dawn or fisticuffs behind the school gym. The ever present fight between the Democratic followers and the Republicans is fierce and from the point of one who is middle ground, bemusing to say the least.
I say middle ground. In my own country I would call myself a conservative, however compared to US politics, I would say I am far more liberal than what they would consider conservative. It amazes me the heated arguements held there over issues like the proposal Health reforms. I listen to the Republicans insisting that the Health care system is working for anyone willing to work and pay their taxes, yet I know many Americans who insist that without employers contributing and making health insurance part of the financial package, they simply could not afford the premiums.
And now I am watching the debate unravel about whether Obama should have been the recipient of the Nobel Peace prize. Should he? Based on what he is trying to acheive and is hoping to do so in the future? Shouldn’t the prize be given to someone or an organisation who has acheived peace and all good things to mankind? Has the awarding of this prestigious prize been belittled and turned into a politic ‘who’s the most popular’ prize? I see the intentions of the Noweigan board but it does seem to have come as a surprise to most. It’s a strange choice.
So onto sex matters. Cougar. Well, I should say I am a would-be Cougar. In my dreams. The reality is that I live a pretty sexless life these days, for various reasons. I have a young son which acts as a pretty effective man repulsion system; I am ridiculously busy with my work and I find myself enjoying my own time and company too much to allow another person in. Its not that I don’t enjoy mens company, I do, very much. But I enjoy the freedom to spread out in my bed, sleeping from the left side, to the right whenever I feel like it. I also love sleeping with the curtains open and I have found in past relationships, this is a no-no for most people.
So I find my relationships are usually frivolous and only to satisfy some very instant urges and needs. My last ‘relationship’ was with the husband of a friend. Ah. I hear the sucking in of breaths and the shaking of heads. And yes, it does sound rather aweful. And it was. So learn from my experience ladies and gentlemen.
We were all drunk and the friend, lets call her Mildred, has very open issues with sex. She hates it, rarely has it, and its become a huge issue within her marriage to Albert.
Albert has always been very flirty with me and its never really been an issue. I don’t find him attractive, he’s the sort that dumbs everything down and he’s my friend by association to Mildred. Anyway, we are all a little drunk and sharing a bed whilst we chat and natter….Mildred, Albert, then I. All lined up like little soldiers. Mildred falls asleep snoring loudly, and somehow, in the midst of us talking, hands start to touch, lips meet and at some point, my head is pushed under the covers and you know what naughty deed was done then. And that was it. Nothing more.
But like alot of unfinished business, these things can fester and on our next meeting, Albert and I found ourselves alone for an hour in the house and before you could blink, pants were off, panties aside and we were doing it there and then. And we did for the next few days. Whilst Mildred was asleep, we were stealing dirty moments downstairs.
Of course, it was the fact it was wrong and dirty that was the attraction and nothing to do with him. And I knew that no more would happen, ever again. So I told him, made it clear that this was inherently wrong, selfish and purely sexual and it had to end. And it did. And Albert and I have talked about it often, and even though I know he would happily repeat the experience, he knows I wont.
Is it because I don’t want to hurt my friend? Yes, of course. But its also because I know what I did was wrong on many many levels. Do I have trouble looking her in the eyes, no, I truly don’t, because I know it was nothing to me, or in reality to him. His willingness to repeat is based on sex. Not on feelings or love, but the release of sex. It was sex, as I could have enjoyed with my trusted Rampant Rabbit (but easier for me) and it was thrilling because for a few days in my mundane life, I did something daring, sexy and full of heat. But it wasn’t real and because it wasn’t real, I am no threat to Mildred. I don’t feel the need to repent or to confess to her, or warn her that her husband is capable of an affair, because I don’t think he would. I think he did with me because it was the right person, at the right time and the right place. Take me out of it and he’s not the wandering type.
So do I feel I am the sort of woman that other women should be wary of? Yes and no. I have now learned that I am able to see a man and am capable of seeing past the family life and taking what I need. That makes me a dangerous woman. I do meet couples and the husband is attractive, and now that whimsical lighthearted thought of ‘I’d do him’ has new meaning. I would, or...I could. But I don’t. Because ultimately, I don’t want to leave a wake of destroyed family units behind me, and I also recognise that these are purely selfish sexual needs calling out. I am not looking for Mr Right For the Third time. I am genuinely happy in my house with my child and work. I have the circle of friends around me that I treasure and I don’t want a man in there upsetting the balance. Maybe in the years to come I may feel differently, but for now, I am content.
As most of you will get to know, I am a user of a particular chat site that is somewhat sexually forward and is what is known as ’No Holds Barred’ chatroom. Not that you have to talk sex whilst in there, far from it, but you have to be prepared to accept ‘anything goes’, and is, and sometimes the chatters can be cruel, unsophisticated and downright feisty. But a huge reason I visit is their political forums where the duelling there is worse than swords at dawn or fisticuffs behind the school gym. The ever present fight between the Democratic followers and the Republicans is fierce and from the point of one who is middle ground, bemusing to say the least.
I say middle ground. In my own country I would call myself a conservative, however compared to US politics, I would say I am far more liberal than what they would consider conservative. It amazes me the heated arguements held there over issues like the proposal Health reforms. I listen to the Republicans insisting that the Health care system is working for anyone willing to work and pay their taxes, yet I know many Americans who insist that without employers contributing and making health insurance part of the financial package, they simply could not afford the premiums.
And now I am watching the debate unravel about whether Obama should have been the recipient of the Nobel Peace prize. Should he? Based on what he is trying to acheive and is hoping to do so in the future? Shouldn’t the prize be given to someone or an organisation who has acheived peace and all good things to mankind? Has the awarding of this prestigious prize been belittled and turned into a politic ‘who’s the most popular’ prize? I see the intentions of the Noweigan board but it does seem to have come as a surprise to most. It’s a strange choice.
So onto sex matters. Cougar. Well, I should say I am a would-be Cougar. In my dreams. The reality is that I live a pretty sexless life these days, for various reasons. I have a young son which acts as a pretty effective man repulsion system; I am ridiculously busy with my work and I find myself enjoying my own time and company too much to allow another person in. Its not that I don’t enjoy mens company, I do, very much. But I enjoy the freedom to spread out in my bed, sleeping from the left side, to the right whenever I feel like it. I also love sleeping with the curtains open and I have found in past relationships, this is a no-no for most people.
So I find my relationships are usually frivolous and only to satisfy some very instant urges and needs. My last ‘relationship’ was with the husband of a friend. Ah. I hear the sucking in of breaths and the shaking of heads. And yes, it does sound rather aweful. And it was. So learn from my experience ladies and gentlemen.
We were all drunk and the friend, lets call her Mildred, has very open issues with sex. She hates it, rarely has it, and its become a huge issue within her marriage to Albert.
Albert has always been very flirty with me and its never really been an issue. I don’t find him attractive, he’s the sort that dumbs everything down and he’s my friend by association to Mildred. Anyway, we are all a little drunk and sharing a bed whilst we chat and natter….Mildred, Albert, then I. All lined up like little soldiers. Mildred falls asleep snoring loudly, and somehow, in the midst of us talking, hands start to touch, lips meet and at some point, my head is pushed under the covers and you know what naughty deed was done then. And that was it. Nothing more.
But like alot of unfinished business, these things can fester and on our next meeting, Albert and I found ourselves alone for an hour in the house and before you could blink, pants were off, panties aside and we were doing it there and then. And we did for the next few days. Whilst Mildred was asleep, we were stealing dirty moments downstairs.
Of course, it was the fact it was wrong and dirty that was the attraction and nothing to do with him. And I knew that no more would happen, ever again. So I told him, made it clear that this was inherently wrong, selfish and purely sexual and it had to end. And it did. And Albert and I have talked about it often, and even though I know he would happily repeat the experience, he knows I wont.
Is it because I don’t want to hurt my friend? Yes, of course. But its also because I know what I did was wrong on many many levels. Do I have trouble looking her in the eyes, no, I truly don’t, because I know it was nothing to me, or in reality to him. His willingness to repeat is based on sex. Not on feelings or love, but the release of sex. It was sex, as I could have enjoyed with my trusted Rampant Rabbit (but easier for me) and it was thrilling because for a few days in my mundane life, I did something daring, sexy and full of heat. But it wasn’t real and because it wasn’t real, I am no threat to Mildred. I don’t feel the need to repent or to confess to her, or warn her that her husband is capable of an affair, because I don’t think he would. I think he did with me because it was the right person, at the right time and the right place. Take me out of it and he’s not the wandering type.
So do I feel I am the sort of woman that other women should be wary of? Yes and no. I have now learned that I am able to see a man and am capable of seeing past the family life and taking what I need. That makes me a dangerous woman. I do meet couples and the husband is attractive, and now that whimsical lighthearted thought of ‘I’d do him’ has new meaning. I would, or...I could. But I don’t. Because ultimately, I don’t want to leave a wake of destroyed family units behind me, and I also recognise that these are purely selfish sexual needs calling out. I am not looking for Mr Right For the Third time. I am genuinely happy in my house with my child and work. I have the circle of friends around me that I treasure and I don’t want a man in there upsetting the balance. Maybe in the years to come I may feel differently, but for now, I am content.
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