Monday, February 28, 2011

The Lone Ranger

The Gap

There's been a *slight* gap in my posts since I've been busy getting to know people or weeding out candidates for sexual relations in Clinton-esque jargon. The three bachelors from yore are still around, but my interest in them has abated and they are aware of this. It's not that I always fall for the new and shiny person who surfaces in my life, but when you realize you like someone, the others pale by comparison. My interest in a particular person is relative to the quality and quantity of adult males I'm currently juggling.

The Caveat

I've issued a disclaimer on the site to the effect that I'm getting to know several people and it's probably best not to contact me, but it seems to have had the opposite effect of what I intended. Maybe it provoked the alpha male competitive instinct or inspired the white knight rescue fantasy. Perhaps it's like that phenomenon where people slow down at a roadside collision wondering what all the fuss is about. At any rate, the number of contacts has exploded exponentially.

The Trends

At first, I figured guys just weren't getting the message so I restated it more clearly. Yea, guess how well that worked?  Back to Plan A: I'm leaving that 'don't message me' message up in its original form. If men contact me in full awareness that my time and interest are divided among many, that's their business. To this end, I have started noticing peculiar trends among the unfair sex.

The Lone Ranger

This is a guy's tendency to take distance then check up on me at seemingly arbitrary intervals. For example, this man will initiate contact then pull a disappearing act at some point in the getting to know you process. I  register his absence under the category of "he's just not that into me." So, when he pops back up again on my radar, I used to ask myself, "What's up with that?"

What I've realized is that if someone likes me he might "test" how much I like him by withdrawing and seeing if I contact him in the meantime. I'm not one to chase a man in cyberspace so I don't bother rounding up strays. When the wayward traveller re-emerges in an hour, a week, a month, or whatever time span it happens to be, I'm not exactly surprised to see him. A man can only hide his interest for so long before he feels compelled to act on it.

When The Lone Ranger reappears on the horizon, I generally remember his name, personal details, and my interest level is about the same as it was before his leave-taking but now I've got a question mark in my head about whether he treats dating like being tagged in some kind of catch-and-release program.

You see, there are *other* men who communicate their interest directly. They ask point blank about their relative status. These types have enough confidence to appreciate that whatever answer they get is not a reflection on themselves. They don't play hide-and-seek. There is always a dance of intimacy, but it's a partnered activity where you know your partner's moves.

A gap in communication could simply be a matter of competing real life priorities or new lust interests. If I have too much on my plate or I become preoccupied with the lust object of the moment, I lose track of virtual bachelors. I've posted my 'don't message me' message to avoid such an imbalance. I sometimes slip up despite the best intentions so I don't automatically assign murky motives to the characters who turn up again. Life happens.

Like the other group of guys I describe, however, I'm assertive about my interest in someone. I can't be bothered to play that game of 'who's less interested.' I'll express my interest in someone so that I make myself understood. I'll ask the questions that tell me what I need to know. The Lone Ranger here-you-see-me-now-you-don't could  be innocuous as a transient episode. If it becomes a pattern, however, my interest is proportional to the mutual investment of time and energy.

Sunday, February 6, 2011

Some Conditions May Apply

More, more, more!

When I first started using the online dating site, I was looking for 'just friends.' The question men most often asked me was, "Why don't you want to have sex?" Now that I've indicated I'm open to short-term dating, which is not synoymous with screwing, by the way, the question has become, "Why aren't you interested in a long-term relationship?" *shakes head*

Each time I draw a line in the sand, guys test the boundaries. It must be true that people want what they can't have. Guys are rushing to fill in the gap with 'the next level' of intimacy. I wonder if they actually want more or are moreover spurred by the challenge to change my mind.

I've answered this question a few too many times. I'm going to post a response in my journal on the site. If I finish my Owner's Manual, it'd likely be found under FAQs in the chapter on emotional availability. I haven't thought of a title for that section, yet.

Clarity comes from knowing the context for my choice.

First, I'm not interested in a fast fuck nor am I fixated on finding The One. I'm not gagging for sex and I'm not blindly chasing an ideal. To quote Stein, 'I need a man like a fish needs a bicycle.'

Second, I'm in a period of transition. I expect to be moving around the next couple of years. I'll be relocating for school then for work. I've got zero interest in long-distance relationships.

Third, I don't have my 'ticket.' I've been separated for over a year but the divorce is not finalized. I'm tying up loose ends before advertising potential emotional availability. (The idea is laughable from this vantage point.)

Fourth, I'm going through a selfish phase. I want what I want when I want it. I'm not even remotely interested in you, me, and a U-haul. Coupledom is not my intention.

You need to pre-accept the terms of interaction before we get into the mix.

1. There is an unwritten expiration date on our association.

2. There is no expectation of exclusivity.

3. In case of emergency, we respect one another's humanity.

*If you develop real feelings and they're reciprocated, it would be a miracle.
*If you develop real feelings and they're not reciprocated, I will talk you off the ledge.
*If I develop real feelings and they're reciprocated, I will happily consume massive helpings of humble pie.
*If I develop real feelings and they're not reciprocated, dixie cups of platonic love to cross the Sahara of suffering would be appreciated, but not necessary.

Read the fine print.

There's room for discussion depending on individual interests.

If you want to know 'where you stand,' I'll tell you. I'm not here to play of game of who's less interested.

If you want monogamy, ask for it. It happens to be my default setting so I'll consider it.

to be continued...

Friday, February 4, 2011

Owner's Manual: How to Cream My Jeans

I want a clever title for a chapter about my sexy self. Eve Ensler's "Vagina Monlogues" makes for a tempting yet unoriginal title. This blog is me thinking out loud - witness the chaos - as I figure out how to describe what I find arousing to titillate and inform a potential partner.

I like to speak in metaphor so I could break down my sexual appetite by presenting the ideal sexual experience for me in menu format. Hrm. List appetizers (favourite foreplay), main course (preferred positions), and dessert (fantasy, sweet nothings). It's got possibilities.

Ok, let's see...what rhymes with vagina? China. Time-ah. Pizza. I already referenced the article 'Sex is like pizza' in another post so that's out of the running. I could commit a cardinal sin and combine both unoriginal ideas in an orginal way..."Want a slice of pizza then let's talk about my vagina."Oh God, save me from myself. How lame! Fuuuuck.

Alright, that's it. I'm moving onto the content of the piece. No more rhyming games. First, I'd have a spiel about the qualities that turn me on like intelligence, humour, and compassion. Then I'd point readers to an earlier post about the look that makes me go ga-ga. The nitty gritty of it, though, would go beyond mental orgasms and animal attraction to get into more personal details.

What do I like in bed? "I'm looking for an adventurous guy to explore my sexual geography. My erogenous zones include my ears, neck, shoulder, sides, and the usual suspects." Well, it's not a bad start, but it's not great. The theme of mapping out touchable topography to discover sensitive zones is a workable metaphor.

"Cuchi is my word for my vagina. I figure I should introduce you two since you might be getting to know one another." Wow, that makes me sound like a wacko. Memo to Me: do not infantilize genitals.It's worse than being clinical. Ugh. I'm not a fan of the word 'pussy'. There's got to be a word for crotch that feels hot.

I like the word cock. I like pump, too, if used in in a sentence like, "I'm gonna pump you hard" Ewww. That's so cheesy in black and white. In bed, I want a man to use wordplay to turn me on. It's the best of both worlds. No silent sex for me. Oh hell no. I crave the noises of pleasure. Caveat: 'Oh baby' is a worn out broken record, so if that's your idea of sweet nothings, grunts are better. Either make it funny, personalize it, or keep it to moans and heavy breathing. And saying it while breathing hot and heavy into my ear is...gooood.

It ratchets up my horniness to know my partner's having a good time. A man's facial expression, body language, and comments are my undoing. The more his desire shines in his eyes, slickens his skin, and alternately softens or sharpens his moans or cries, the more it revs me up. Hell, I'm getting interested just typing this. 

One particular set of words I like to hear is how wet or hot or tight I feel. It doesn't matter who says it. I pimp out adjectives to get my juices flowing as much as I enjoy hearing a man tell me all about it. I'm such a word whore. It's important to remember that the biggest sex organ is the one between my ears so verbal appreciation for how I look and what I'm doing has major dividends.

I spontaneously tell my partner what a great lover he is in a continuous feedback loop. I'm a passionate lover and I want to make my partner feel like he's all that matters. I've found that the surest way to enjoy myself is to put my partner's needs before my own. The desperate tug inside me that burns through my senses is fuelled by knowing I'm doing what my partner likes and driving him over the edge. His thirst for my touch spurs my lust. It's a neverending cycle of mutual pleasure from savouring each other in the moment, insulated from the world and devoted to one another's bliss.  

Speaking of mutual satisfaction and the them of giving and receiving, oral sex is a must on the 'to do' list. I'm not saying it has to happen every single time, in fact, I like to get finger fucking almost as much as someone going down on me. The key is that a person is comfortable with both performing and accepting oral pleasure.

One guy I've been talking to recently admitted he's got next to zero experience in oral sex. After I recovered from the shock of it, I was inwardly groaning about training someone in the how-to's. Then I got excited. I like being in charge. It'd be great to have a tabula rasa. I could teach someone exactly what works for me. I'm hellbound; not evil, but definitely naughty. I was hoping to find a guide to hasten my downward spiral, but corrupting the heavenbound would have its perks.

As with any man I invite to my bed, my goal would be to discover what rocks his world. I look forward to trying my bag of tricks to see what technique is the best form of sweet torture in bringing him to climax. It ain't over 'til the hot guy cums. Oh how I delight in taking someone close to the point of no return and bringing them down again so they want it all the more. Booyah. Eventually, I put someone out of their misery (begging not required, but awesome all the same).

Speaking of screaming, I could  go into the language of my sexual escalation. I'm expressive. For my part, the more excited I get, the more my mind goes blank. A good fuck renders me inarticulate. Imagine that.

The coital continuum:
Stage 1 - Guidance: "Oh that feels good. Do that again. Right there. Mmm, just like that."
Stage 2 - Placation: "I want you inside me."
Stage 3 - Losing Coherence: "Oh fuuuuck."
Stage 4 - Monosyllabic or action words: "Yea!" "Ohhhh." "Harder!" "Faster!"
Stage 5 - Obscenity and divinity: "Oh fuck, oh God, oh my fucking God. Holy fuck."
Stage 6 - Incapable of speech: ohhhhhhhmmmnnnuhhh...

More to come... :P

Friday, January 28, 2011

Instant Intimacy: Recipe for Disaster

I'm supposed to be reading Ted Kennedy's memoirs. It's about as appealing as watching paint dry. At least if I were staring blankly at a freshly painted wall, there's a chance I could induce a trance or get high on residual fumes. The book is horrifically boring because his speech writer must have edited out all the good bits that might intrigue a human being.

So, what compels us to read? I don't care right now because I have the urge to purge all my mixed up melodrama. If that's one of the reasons you read, to immerse yourself in someone else's convoluted headspace, be my guest. Now then, onto the topic at hand which is my version of an update on the process of getting to know a few eligible bachelors.

I could describe my impressions, concerns, and responses to these men and in fact, have done that very thing in emails to my friends, but what I can't say is how they make me feel. I can describe them analytically, but not emotionally. Through some freakish twist, men are getting to know the part of me that isn't available because I'm afraid to let them get to know the part of me that is available.

In giving myself permission to do what I want, what I want has gotten confused. I was going for casual sex which I blended into a short-term dating option as I've never done the whole love 'em and leave 'em thing before. I reasoned it was a way of getting sex without guilt since some tenuous emotional connection would be there as part of an affair. My form of compromise with myself seems to be turning into something half-assed, indeed.

There's an air of permissiveness about me. I'm going with the flow by not attending to feelings of discomfort. Both of the guys (bachelor number three dropped off the face of the earth, which is fine by me as he is regularly substituted by other guys who contact me on a seemingly neverending rotational basis of 'new person checking me out' and staying within my peripheral vision) are ramping up the intimacy, possibly higher than I can handle.

One of them likes to call me on a nightly basis, except when I'm busy or working. Daily communication seems to be his goal. At first, the attention was flattering. More recently, it's starting to tip the scales into discomforting. Even though he knows I'm getting to know other people (or possibly because he knows I'm getting to know other people) he seems to want to insert himself into my routine. It was nice to feel needed but he likes me more than I like him (Can you say, highschool revisited?) and it's wearing thin.

I'm being honest with this man about my mediocre feelings but something isn't getting through. I soften things a bit, in good intention as not to hurt him unduly, but I'm starting to feel like niceness is weakness because being 'nice' is not getting the point across. He does make verbal retreats when I castigate him for going over the line in his effusive nonsense (no, not the same as castrate...want that part to be in working order, tyvm). All the same, I'm continually resetting the balance because he keeps tipping over the scales in favour of wanting a relationship (which he doesn't outright request but makes comments about a future together which I'd initially dismissed as white noise but is now a droning buzz that overwhelms the senses).

I have an open nature but some part of me is screaming to shut the door. Wham, bam, thank you man! Of course, since he's ingratiated himself into my life, I feel an obligation to 'explain' why I'm backing away (slowly, keep head down, make soothing noises, don't agitate the horny animal) all the while hoping I don't have to. Some lunatic fringe inside me keeps thinking he might spontaneously 'get it' and see I'm giving off signals like no tomorrow to slow down the emotional congress. Man, I hate this shit. This awkward awareness is what tempts you to not answer the phone when you see his name, to log off when he visits your profile, and to generally avoid the unpleasant reaction you get when you draw a line in the sand.

The other guy isn't a whole lot different, but seems to read me a little better. He's got an edge over his linguistically challenged counterpart, The Endearing Immigrant. In other words, he knows full well he's testing the limits of our interaction. We've had a couple of friendly disagreements. It's obvious he's experienced this push-pull before. Not that he seems to give much of a crap about my vacillation as he's got his own agenda, but we know we're at odds and talk about it.

In terms of his advances in the emotional arena, he calls it 'flirting' or 'caring' depending on his mood, and I stick it to him no matter what he calls it. He respects that our lives are separate entities and asks ahead as to when is a good time to call and doesn't contact me in the interim, except that one time and he got blasted for it so that sorted it out. In all fairness, the other guy does this too, but I didn't take him to task when he called me 'just because'. In some screwed up way, liking him more is translating to treating him worse since he's not getting the critical feedback to make course corrections. Has my moral core been overtaken by lust?

The second bachelor brought to my attention in our discussion of what-the-fuck-is-going-on that I have to be clear about what I want in short-term dating. So I put it back to him, "Am I being clear about what I want?" to which he replied "Yes, but." Oh that's just fucking great. I'm clear but something remains ambiguous. I'm an excellent communicator, what the hell is going on?! Is he an alien who can read through my tinfoil hat or what?

I pressed on because I wanted to deal with whatever emotional obstruction was getting in the way of making my motives transparent. So I asked him, "What the hell are you talking about?" He said the BUT was I'm undecided regarding potential for long-term relationship. He's right. As I said to him, IF there were *something special* THEN I'd be amenable to the extended version or relationship. Hypothetically speaking, of course. Nod your head, but of course!

Unfortunately, my vague hypothesis led me to pursue questionable logic. The combination of The Hippie in me who makes concessions to protect my partner's feelings and The Narcissist who takes what it can get in lieu of unresolved tension are bad elements in a chemistry experiment waiting to blow up in my face. Wait a sec, this feels awfully familiar...LOL. It seems that even as I avoid a LTR, the issues that plagued me then, plague me still. Falsifiable conclusion: deliver me a boy toy without complication!!

So, where does that leave me? Am I supposed to adopt a nihilistic attitude to reign in people's feelings and keep mine in check? Nah. I just need to put it all on the table. If I give guys the benefit of the doubt then it's time to take off the velvet gloves. Let's see if they can handle the truth or if they freak out like Jack Nicholson in "A Few Good Men". My misled attempts to cushion the blow makes my fuckedupness the culprit in not clearly demarcating emotional boundaries. The mad scientist needs to go back to the lab.

Sunday, January 23, 2011

Owner's Manual

I jokingly refer to my journal section on the dating site as a 'user guide.' The more I think about it though, the more I like the idea of providing a quasi-technical reference about what makes me tick. If I could clearly communicate who I am and what I want, it would help people to understand where I'm coming from and whether or not we'd be compatible for coupledom.

According to Wikipedia, the All-Source, the standard format for a written guide of modus operandi includes:
  • A cover page
  • A title page and copyright page
  • A preface, containing details of related documents and information on how to navigate the user guide
  • A contents page
  • A guide on how to use at least the main functions of the system
  • A troubleshooting section detailing possible errors or problems that may occur, along with how to fix them
  • A FAQ (Frequently Asked Questions)
  • Where to find further help, and contact details
  • A glossary and, for larger documents, an index
I'm going to consider the 'About Me' section of my online profile as the cover, title, and copyright page rolled into one. If someone reaches the end of the profile, they've got a sense of how I present myself in the here and now. As for a preface, this very blog you are reading serves as a testing ground in creating an accurate synopsis of myself. It's my first attempt to describe my complex motivations in a way that gives me room to recoil in horror and then get used to an idea or to reject it as not the right fit.

A Table of Contents would be divided it into heart, brain, and vagina with subsections for each chapter. Of course, they can't be so easily separated but being all the nerd I can be, it'd be interesting to do just that. Those words also need revision as chapter titles since vagina is way too clinical. I'd  include diagrams culled from the Internet to illustrate ideas in each section. Oh boy! Sharing is fun!

The basics of "Getting Started" or 'quickie' as it might be described in terms of the vagina (sexual aspect) would be tons of fun to write. Food for thought, indeed. Troubleshooting could be an interesting revelation on my communication style...or lack thereof. The word 'interesting' has long been my preferred way of saying I don't want to say what I really think. Tact takes time and I'm running out of it cos I have stuff to do.

I've been itching to do an FAQ for eons because of the crazy questions I get and my alternately bemused and befuddled reaction to various kinds of attention. Further help and contact details are embedded in the "Message Me If" section of the profile which is inane in its conception but that's a subject for another blog. 

The Glossary will be lavished with attention since I love wordplay. Christ Almighty, an index? Oh, forget about it, that would take foreverrrrr! Now that I've got the barebones established, I'll set about working on each chapter. I got my blog on!

Saturday, January 22, 2011

Sexual Stats: Who Wins the MVP Award?

Status: Actively Dating
Sanity: Waxing and Waning

Would dating be easier if there were sexual stats trading cards? Is there a way to objectively evaluate someone's sexual experience? Let's say for the sake of silliness that sexual know-how could be quantified. Each player's achievements would be summarized in a handy wallet-size format along with a Pythagorean expectation or estimate of expected winning percentage.This is written tongue-in-cheek so try to enjoy it in that spirit, sports fans! 

The first design problem is establishing general categories of what's valued in sexual interaction. As a straight single woman on a dating site, I've been approached by guys who want to send me pics of their dicks. If these men had their way, one side of the sex stats trading card would be devoted to their penis, including a glossy photo, dimensions, how many wet towels it holds and other trivia which might fascinate those blokes who check out each other's genitals while standing side-by-side at urinals, but bat size isn't everything!

Unless you've been living under a rock, you know the baseball metaphor for physical intimacy which is fundamentally flawed in that it dictates a universal progression of activity.
  1. First base is commonly understood to be any form of mouth to mouth kissing, especially open lip (“French”) kissing.
  2. Second base refers to tactile stimulation of the genitals over clothes, or of the female breasts.
  3. Third base refers to groping naked genitals (handjob or fingering), or oral sex.
  4. Home run (or rounding the bases, scoring a run, hitting a home run, scoring, going all the way, coming home, etc.) is the act of penetrative intercourse.
Using this ridiculous hierarchical reference, each card would report numbers for the amount of times a player had engaged in each interaction - French, feel, finger, fuck, respectively. Who keeps track? As if! At best, a person could identify preferences. True afficienados of particular activities could endorse personal techniques. Perhaps a 'premium' edition card would include an endearing story such as "The First Girl I Fingered." These biographical elements would be better received than a gold-foil condom insert boasting inflated batting averages, trust me.

So, what information would be featured in forecasting a player's ability to hit one out of the park? If we take this absurd metaphor to its ungainly conclusion, the 'numbers' equate to a sexual yardstick for measuring a person's carnal talents. This kind of sexual calculus is totally bogus. The characteristics that make a sexual experience pleasurable aren't the kind that can be described in a competitive format. The MVP goes to someone who is self-aware, communicative, and able to enjoy sensuality in all its forms.

Wednesday, January 19, 2011

STD Run Rampant: Short Term Dating is Viral Delusion

I wrote an insanely sane post about this topic but didn't save it when I signed out last time. This hybrid post is the short-short version of the glorious and forever lost original.It's fitting since short-term dating is also my attempt to merge an abbreviated version of the emotional intimacy of a relationship and the physical aspect of casual sex. Don't bother me with moral relativism, I'm retyping.

The site offers several choices in how you advertise your interest. Most of the past year I've been window shopping so I put out (or rather, didn't...) 'friends' and 'long-distance' penpals. I didn't even bother with 'activity partners' since I figured friends would fall under that category if platonic relations was their true interest. Okay, enough background info. I didn't bother with it in the lovely lost post so why I felt compelled to include it now is beyond me. I'm too lazy to backspace, fuck it, it stays.

I duly considered casual sex, short-term dating, and long-term dating. Who's the lucky winner? Well, although I'd like to get lucky, I didn't indicate I was looking for casual sex. Inviting casual sex into my life would be like sending out an anonymous Dear John letter. Getting back into the dating world is like trying to find my way around without a map. I've never visited the particular territory of sex with no strings attached cos my moral compass was habitually set in the direction of 'forever after'. Stumbling into the undiscovered realm of strictly sex would mean I'd get lost for sure. A series of casualties would be the result and I'll be damned if I'll apologize for incidental damages like accidental neediness.

I'm not ready for an LTR (Long Term Relationship) and I'm not willing to lead somone on to believe otherwise. I've got the right qualities for it but my inner landscape is inhospitable to the idea of 'giving  myself away' to someone again. I'm almost concerned I'm turning into one of those cynical bastards I love to hate, but any of the guys I get to know invariably describe me as sweet, caring, and other effusive nonsense so although I thought my heart might finally have shrunk from 3 sizes too big to a black, withered thing like some stone cold asshole might have in his chest, apparently my ticker is still working overtime.

I need to avoid the pitfall of sticking around because the other person likes me a lot. I've pulled that dumbass maneouvre more than I care to admit. If you don't know what I'm talking about, congratulations you're a mature human being who can clearly communicate uncomfortable feelings. I default to an LTR when my feelings are lukewarm at best and my compassion is at its worst. It's not fair to anyone because that guy becomes the second chance dance partner which is a horrific discovery for someone to make. Hence the need for an expiration date.

To me, short term dating is smack dab in the middle of the spectrum of physical and emotional interest. It's a way of saying 'I might fuck you if I like you'. This way, if someone is more interested in sex, they can be let go in the same way they were let in. Easy comes, easy goes, as it were. There's nothing wrong with someone being mostly interested in sex for sex's sake, but I'd get bored if it was primarily a poke-a-hole thing. Alternatively, if someone wants more commitment, I could politely excuse myself from further entanglement. Again, I've got no problem if someone is looking for a life partner, but I'm not in a good place for it right now. The trick is to be able to stick to this blueprint IRL. I had a clever reflection about the futility of having a plan when the best laid plans of mice and men often go awry which seems timely enough considering the fate of the former post.

How can you predict the unpredictable? Whenever two human beings interact there are bound to be unexpected discoveries. Check in again to see how this strategy translates IRL as I get to know the three bachelors mentioned in another post. The road to hell is paved with good intentions so I wonder how far I'll get down purgatory lane... .