Whiskey’s Guide to Navigating Casual Sex


It’s me Whiskey!

The official start of summer is nigh and you are scared. Maybe you contemplated celibacy but now that the sun is out and melanin is glistening and muscles are visible beneath those sleeveless jerseys, with long dreaded hair gleaming in the light of day and cascading down sweaty necks—ahem, sorry I digress. Bottom line is: niggas are hot right now and any plans you had for celibacy have gone by the wayside. You are ready to live your BEST. LIFE [aka get your hoe on].

Never fear, Whiskey Girl here to give you some random ass advice on navigating casual sex this summer. My biggest lesson for men has always been to stop playing around with the emotions of women who are looking for real love and solid relationships. I find it particularly irresponsible because there are plenty of women out here that would love a casual roll in hay with an attractive semi-stranger [*raises hand sheepishly*] Men are savages biologically called to bust their nuts far and wide among many nations, while women are sensitive beings biologically called to cling and form emotional attachments—at least I know that I am.

So, for all of you sensitive women like me who have fragile egos and tons of emotions, let me give you some tips to help you try to stay in the casual sex game this summer. May the odds be in your favor…

Dont ask for advice

Warning: I’m really not the best person to be giving advice

Manage Your Expectations

After a few failed relationships I can’t help but mourn the loss of companionship with people who meant something to me. However, at one point I considered dating good fun and only 53% percent completely stressful as I found myself wrapped up in fantasy what-ifs and my need to try to control the outcome of every single romantic encounter. Oh, me and this person seem to like each other so naturally it’s time to daydream about a long and happy future together! It is the typical hopeless romantic’s way of jumping the gun and expecting way too much out of a basic meet and greet. If you’re going to be casual then the first thing you have to do is free your mind of any and all expectations.

Maybe it sounds easier said than done but it’s really the only foolproof way to prevent disappointment. The minute you think to yourself that a casual encounter or situation could be something more than exactly what it is [great sex plus maybe a dope hangout] you are screwed—and not in the intended way.

If you are a woman who struggles with the need to feel validated by a lover’s attention or affection then casual sex is definitely not the move for you. Typically, men who are up for casually banging you no strings attached are not much into validating your need to feel pretty or managing your emotions in any way. A hard dick may very well be the only evidence you have to work with as proof that he’s mildly interested in you at all. Even then, chances are that his interest doesn’t travel far beyond a sexual nature.

I wouldn’t even say something as optimistic as “expect the unexpected”. Bitch, if you are going to do this then you need to expect absolutely nothing. Casual sex is primal, it is in the moment and ultimately it amounts to nothing—your expectations should match those parameters and stay within them.

Poets and Whores

Limit Social Media. Period

I am a sort of millennial so of course I use social media a TON, but for mental health reasons I try to regulate it to sharing my crappy poetry and to promote my upcoming performances only. Hot bitches run amok on my timeline and even as a person with fairly high self-esteem, I find myself extremely depressed by the fact that another woman’s sexy selfies [posted 17 different times CONSECUTIVELY] will beat out my blog posts /emo-poetry any day. Social media is invasive and designed to trigger an obsessive response by giving you way too much information about other people in the form of stupid captions and shallow images. Newsflash: Instagram wants you to know that he liked and commented on that bitch’s picture.

In a normal world you would not care, but in this stupid world we’ve created where dumb shit like social media likes mean something [or they really don’t] you find yourself bothered. You don’t need to be bothered! YOU should not have to worry your pretty little head about a thing.

Casual sex is supposed to be fun! Caring about what a nigga double taps while he’s taking a dump and scrolling his timeline is not as much fun. Keep your self-esteem high and your online presence low profile. Try not to see something so you never have to say anything. Sensitive women get caught up in the pitfalls of “but why did he comment heart eyed emojis underneath her twerk video?” every day, and if you want to play the game you have to be more than your triggers. Assumptions, overthinking and obsessing have no place in casual sex because it makes you a Buzz Killington. Social media is a major perpetuator of jealousy and envy and if you don’t believe me, take a break for a few weeks and see how your self-esteem shoots through the roof. Do yourself a favor and stay away from a nigga’s page and if you don’t follow him on any medias—that’s FANTASTIC— you are ahead of the game!

Possibility for jealous reactions aside, there is also just something that feels nice about limiting interactions with people. Yes, Instagram and Facebook have their many benefits but it also makes it impossible to get a person out of your mind when they are constantly popping up on your feed. Take some space and follow if you must but refrain from obsessing and/or assuming anything from an online persona that does nothing to showcase the actual layers of a person’s day, let alone who they really are as a person.

Spend More Time Alone Than with A Partner

And I don’t mean spending time alone touching yourself. I’ve done it and many of us do—we touch ourselves because we feel lonely or the need for some kind of release or stress relief. If you’ve gone a while without having sex and start up again with a casual partner then your sex drive is going to spike. You are probably going to want sex more often and that’s normal, but also, you are not in a relationship so you can’t really monopolize someone else’s time in that way. I think it makes sense to spend time alone and engaged in other fulfilling activities to get used to your own company and reflection in the mirror.

Dick is a nice bonusEngaging in casual sexual encounters can become hurtful for sensitive women when we use it as crutch for companionship or do so to seek validation. Casual sex partners are vacation. They do not require the same maintenance or time as potential relationships and you should look at it as a chance to be free. Just as he doesn’t have to validate your need to feel desired or rearrange his schedule for you, you don’t have to make him a sandwich or talk about his day afterward if you don’t want to. Are you enjoying the sex? –is pretty much a yes or no question that has the power to make or break this flimsy acquaintance. If the answer is “no”, then move it along and find someone who looks how you want them to look and makes you feel how you want to feel in the moment.

I will say, the moment you stop feeling freedom in your situation you need to get the hell out of there! The moment you find yourself obsessing and caring a bit too much about what he thinks and expecting treatment outside of the scope of your original intentions then you’ve already fucked up and you need to retreat ASAP! Even if just for a moment to regroup and get your head back in the game.

Don’t Fuck Your Friends

*sing to the tune of Don’t Bite Your Friends by the gang at Yo Gabba Gabba*

You Don’t Have to Juggle Multiple Partners

Body countIt’s casual, you are not in a committed relationship. But remember, it’s ok if you don’t want to juggle multiple sex partners too. Either way it’s really no one’s business but your own. If you are using protection then there’s no reason other sex partners should come up in conversation, anyway. Sex is intimate, it is possession and it is a very serious thing that we have turned into a lite version of itself but our bodies and our brains know what it really is no matter how we try to convince them otherwise. Men have a habit of wanting to possess you [your snatch, really] with no intention of actually wanting to be with you so avoid the “how many other people are you seeing?” conversation like the plague.

Whether you are seeing multiple or just the one person—never answer that question. Ever. You have no loyalty to this person, and at the same time have to understand that they have no loyalty to you either.

Communication is Key

I find that communication is easier in casual situations because there’s nothing for anyone to lose so I’m prone to being more direct. If you say or do something too honest or transparent that turns him off…ok, well on to the next! However, the difficult part about open communication and transparency is that you have to be open and honest with yourself. What is it that you want out of your casual sex relationship? Are you killing time until you feel ready to date for the purpose of a long term relationship? Are you open to more than just a sexual relationship? Are you having sex with a specific person in the hopes that maybe they will grow to like you and want something more? It’s ok to be honest with your intentions and to communicate those things with your sex partner. It is also ok for your thoughts and intentions to change over time—it’s just important to stay in touch with your emotions before and after each physical encounter. Take a moment to come down from the sexual high and evaluate how you feel.

Or, if you’re like me and just riding the wave until you figure out what you’re doing, then you can be honest about that, too. You don’t have to know or have a plan for where the path is going to lead, you just check in with yourself often to make sure that you are happy with the journey.

Or, Maybe Don’t Do This…

…if you find for any reason you are not happy or are engaging in empty sex out of loneliness or during a confusing time in your life. You don’t have to know the answers to everything, but your instincts and intuition can tell you right away if you are not about this life. Sex is treat! It’s hella fun and beautiful–one of my very favorite past times—but it’s also very private, personal and seriously intimate. It can be a mindfuck if you have an innate  reverence for other people’s spirits and bodies.

Personally, I am not even sure if I am about this life and I’m not really following this advice all that closely. Were I to play the casual sex game the way it were supposed to be played I would become fearful of who that would make me.

I want to feel things.

Honestly, I think we are all fucking up a little bit. We’ve ruined intimacy and the specialness of human touch and real conversation. We use sex as a cheap and instant way to pretend we feel alive and connected, but are we, really? Or are we just so hardened by life experiences that sex is the only time we feel comfortable being vulnerable with each other? Sex is the only action that speaks more softly than words—it’s value is next to nothing these days. Through all the nonsense I subject myself to, I  am keenly aware that my value is much more than the frivolous activities I often engage in as I’m sure that yours is too.

Let’s hope that at least one of us will rise above this kind of bullshit and not travel so far down the road of casual sexual encounters that we become a little lost in its nonsense. Have your fun now, but it doesn’t hurt to check in every once in awhile and ask yourself, “Am I still having fun?”

Freedom and self harm


*WG is a Washington, DC-based blogger, self-published author and spoken word artist. For more content please visit www.whiskeyandpoetry.com*

Belly (Excerpt)

So when he wraps his calloused hand around my neck, stares down at me with beauty reflected in his eyes
I feel it
Because big girls deserve love, and great head and bomb ass sex
But when he trails his palms down the length of my body I no longer feel cocky I’m in a panic
The extra sand in my hour glass is too much pressure, its beginning to crack, I am unraveling
His hand traveling on a mission to touch down on my sagging belly flesh
He skips the caress and grips it with urgency
Continues to stare at me in wonder and I resent his courtesy
He was not touching me, he was knee deep in something he would probably never understand
His hand gripping at the nucleous of my pain…

Let’s Talk About Porn, Baby! (Part 2)

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Everyone loves it–but most are not bold enough to make this move

To me, porn is Like Raymond…everybody loves it—and I mean EVERYBODY. (Sidenote: the boyfriend tells me that I generalize too much and shouldn’t say things like “everyone” or “women” or “black women” because I can’t possibly speak for everyone in those groups. BUT this is my blog I’ll generalize if I want to!) Anyway, I was super naïve when I first starting dating in my late teens and I did not realize that every guy in the history of guydom watches porn. My main gripe against porn at that phase in my life was the immorality of it all. Clearly God sees you watching other human beings bump uglies—how can you justify this when you get to the pearly gates of heaven? My imagination envisioned a movie projection reel of all of your unforgiven sins playing for everyone to see. I could only imagine how uncomfortable it would get when you reach those scenes of you and your left hand going to town while you make O faces in front of your cell phone screen. Awwwwkwaaarrd…


The first time I ever had to come face to face with pornography and its use is when I came to the realization that a guy I was dating owned a sex tape video. My response was, “Ew, get rid of it!” So he did, and I really thought that was that. I didn’t know that, thanks to the lovely invention of the smart phone, kinky sex stuff was only a Google search away—along with phone sex lines and just nasty women in general that eagerly send photos and videos of themselves doing freaky things for the low low price of nothing.

Without going into too much detail—things ended with that guy.  My disdain for his frequent viewing of porn definitely didn’t help us to grow any closer—but once he reached the stage of actually reaching out to real live women to supplement his sexual needs I needed to be done. If I view porn as a slap in the face, then of course actual cheating is a relationship kill shot to the back of the head. Because of this initial experience dealing with a man so heavily involved in it,  I still have trouble believing that pornography is anything other than a gateway drug to a loss of self control that could end up breaking your significant other’s heart.

My Truth About Porn

If you haven’t watched pornography ever in your life, you are either a 12 year old Amish person OR you live under a rock. Well, after my rock was lifted from me I emerged from underneath immediately blinded by the world and it’s blatant sexual immorality.  This is the part where I declare that it was a difficult time in my life yet I nobly rose above it all and continued to live life as a goodie two shoes church girl. Nope!

I became casually involved with a man who practiced watching porn like some sports fanatics must watch the entire season of basketball. It was EVERYWHERE! His phone, computer, house, car—every.freakin.where. By this time, it had been whispered in my ear enough that apparently I am extremely uptight and I needed to get over this natural habit that all men engaged in. To rid myself of the bad taste in my mouth and try to be a little less judgmental I decided to do some research to discover what the fuss was all about. After about 5 short videos of what looked like men using their penises to horribly stab women to death, I was left unimpressed.  But I didn’t stop watching…

SomethingforeveryoneI needed to know the secret—why is porn so interesting to people? Why did it consume so much time of the man I was currently dating? I didn’t get it! I would turn on the videos and wrinkle my brow trying to figure it the fuck out like it was the theory of relativity! It started out as curiosity—which quickly turned into masochism. I eventually drilled down into what I was watching and discovered that there are apparently levels to this shit. Threesomes, milfs, grandmothers, black men, transgender, lesbian, midgets…! Whoever you are and whatever you like to get into there is a specific type of porn for you, my friend. And let’s not get started on when I discovered that there is pornography specifically for women—THAT was my shit. Nothing more stress relieving than finally finding your own porn niche—then laying awake at night hating yourself and realizing you’ve become just like the men you spent so much time judging and hating for the very same habit. It was the very same addiction, even if it was on a significantly smaller scale.

My involvement with the porn-obsessed guy came to its natural demise for a myriad of reasons. Looking back on our sexual relationship, I realized that I was very much being objectified almost 90% of the time. At a certain point he was into filming us together which I thought was a better alternative to him enjoying strangers having sex UNTIL I realized that he kept an archive of videos of all the women he’d been with. Boy was my face red! I mean, I joke now because experiences like that and similar have toughened me and I know better than to succumb to that kind of bullshit. However, the experiences with these two men have had lasting effects on me. I will lay with you and listen to your most secret fantasies and desires, but I will not watch porn with you or involve myself in any way. I just can’t.

My Truth As A Woman


Feminism is hard

I read an article the other day, that cheerfully informed me that more women in their 20s and 30s are starting to watch porn. Yay feminism—this is so awesome! Oh wait, no not really. I take such issue with modern day feminism sometimes because, in my opinion, it puts way too much focus on sexuality. Feminism is the cool girls table while some of us are still nibbling pizza at the corner table in our ratty, out of fashion jeans and oversized t-shirts.  If you prance around in a midriff shirt, take control of your own pleasure and run a marathon without a tampon you are somehow doing feminism right. However, I see feminism as the freedom to choose who you want to be as a woman and not be judged or treated unfairly because of it. I prefer not to breastfeed in public, I do wear provocative clothing, I don’t want anyone to ever know when I’m on my period EVER… I don’t want to invite pornography into my romantic relationships. Those are my choices.

 I was sitting in the apartment of a man I used to date when he politely asked if I had opened the weblink he sent me. This particular man was a genuinely good guy, so gentle with me and seemingly open and honest. The first time he text me a link to some “check this out” porn I was a little thrown off guard but I wasn’t completely upset about it. I watched the link because I was curious and I was trying to figure out what my action item was supposed to be. (Should I take notes? Can I even angle my head that way? Is that possible to do without throwing up?) In spite of how I feel about porn itself, I try very hard not to be judgmental about sexual fantasies of my significant other (unless it’s super weird stuff or threesomes—ain’t no way I’m going to just let you invite another bitch up in what we have.  I don’t even know her, and how greedy are you for wanting more than one woman when you can barely handle—ok sorry, tangent!)

I sat before him in the chair of his living room and finally I opened the link. I watched the video of this ratchet ass woman (with a terrible weave) performing sexual acts that I had JUST PERFORMED ON THIS NEGRO A FEW MOMENTS AGO! It wasn’t a knock down drag out fight that ensued—rather I just imploded.  Tears rolled down my face and I just didn’t want to see anymore. I felt stupid and completely embarrassed and confused. If I am physically providing for you, swinging off ceiling fans and meeting your needs within the privacy of our relationship why do you need a supplement? I take pride in at least attempting to be a lady in streets and a hoe in the sheets—then you send me a pornography link of a nasty ass woman who is just a hoe in sheets, streets and meet and greets?

I don’t ever want to feel as if I am censoring my partner and their sexual preferences/fantasies—however, I always have to be clear about just how uncomfortable certain things make me. When it comes to pornography: I just don’t get it! Because of my past dealings with men who were heavily involved in pornography to the point of addiction I just don’t want anything to do with it. Period. As Thick Biggems (tee hee) mentioned in the Part 1 interview—if you are having sex with someone you should be able to have open conversations about your sexual activities and your dos and don’ts. Sex is everywhere and it seems to me that there is an abundance of pressure on women to be sexy; invite your friends into your sexual exploits, cook a great meal, suck a great cock etc. etc.  When I finally got around to exploring my sexuality (in mid-to late 20s—which is fairly late) it was difficult for me to sort through all of these outside messages to discover who I was in the midst of it. The discovery is well worth the effort. The obvious life lesson here is: just because everyone else is doing it doesn’t mean that you have to or even that you have to take part in it. My stance on pornography may seem immature to some—but it is just that MY stance.


Well, at least I won’t be saying this!

Whatever anyone chooses to consent to in the bedroom is absolutely their business. I think of sex as fun, exciting, experimental—all of that—but I still don’t quite understand the role of pornography in all of it. Perhaps for those who are single and not seeing any action, or couples that enjoy watching it together, but as far as young men with steady (even multiple) sexual partners I don’t understand the appeal. It’s not for me to understand—and that’s ok. Fellas, if your girl is not into it she is not lame or uptight–it’s just not her preference. Before the luxury of watching other people having sex, I’m sure the caveman thought of several ways to keep things spicy in the bedroom. I don’t know, maybe even circle back around to missionary–I don’t think anyone does that anymore! 😜


If you enjoy my writing, please be sure to check out my brand new website: www.whiskeyandpoetry.com and follow me on social media and subscribe to the blog via the homepage links!


So I really hate when people spout bullshit about humans not being made for monogamous relationships.  Of course we are, that’s why God didn’t create Eve, Sarah, Justine and Diane. He only took one rib which means ONE chick for every dude. IT MAKES SENSE!

At least it does to me on some level. As for all the other levels—I might be struggling. I don’t know what’s happened to me. I’ve been a scorned woman and on the seedy underbelly of the cheating and lies of others but now I’m genuinely petrified that ambiguity has become the new path for me. I AM that thirsty dude on your IG page liking all of your selfies even though I’ve got something waiting for me at home. I AM that person with the sheepish look on my face when it’s finally discovered that I am, in fact, a two timing asshole. So here it is…

Marley and Me

Marley is a beautiful creature I met online and the first guy that actually and genuinely had me excited about love, relationships, bullshit, etc in a long time. By beautiful I mean he was maybe 100 pounds dripping wet, had wild unkempt and downright filthy dreaded hair, translucent light brown eyes and a small mouth. But alas, the heart wants what it wants and for whatever reason this was my soul mate and I wanted him desperately. I was crazy about him! He and I spent a whirlwind month together and of course things moved pretty quickly and we became sexually involved way too fast. But I was happy, right?  Well, now then how did I allow space for Jamaal if that was the case?

I’m walking down the street one day and following after me is this golden man—tanned, tattooed skin, and hair and eyes the color of honey whiskey.  He was polite and sincere and…young (I like them young, not gonna lie) and I didn’t have a boyfriend at the time so there was no harm and giving him my number, right? Marley was not my man and how dare he try to tie me down or think he had any kind ownership over me?  I mean, my cause is poetic: I am totally looking for a husband, I think…

We liked Jamaal 🙂 He was beautiful to look at; he stuttered as he talked a mile a minute and he managed to say all the right things. He wanted me to be his girl, and that’s all I ever really wanted. Fuck you if you think I’m basic!  I do want someone to post my picture on their social media #wifey, #wcw—all that. I hate that hip and cool people these days try to talk down to women who desire those things. On one level perhaps I am basic but I am also a complicated and fascinating individual on other levels sooo shut up and proclaim your public love for me on Facebook, dammit!



The Juggler

Needless to say, I like to think that I am dating with some sort of end game and not just the power trip of having the attention of so many guys. Once I see that one of these guys is offering something that looks real, that’s it– let The Purge begin!

Marley was the victim of such a purge. As much as I prefer to play victim I can’t really get away with this where he is concerned.  I sent him a goodbye text telling him that I’d found someone that wants to make me his girlfriend and that it made sense to focus on that person (Jamaal). (As it turns out I didn’t HAVE to focus on Jamaal because he ended up flaking on becoming my bf but he was content to occupy boyfriend time in my life which is my pet peeve…) Marley seemed proportionately devastated by the news and I felt sick to my stomach that I had to reject him. To make things worse, he offered up the suggestion to become a side nigga and I judged him for that thinking “Have some respect for yourself!” But really he could probably see that I was making a rash decision allowing myself to be lured by someone spitting basic game OR he just wanted to continue sleeping with me. Who knows, I guess. The bottom line is that I couldn’t juggle!

eggs-in-one-basketPeople keep saying that men do it all the time, why can’t women? And, don’t put all of your eggs in one basket– but can I hold on to my eggs and just dole out like two of them to one guy that I actually like? What is this rule that I have to evenly spread all of my eggs around to every guy with dating potential? I can’t speak for other women but I know for me it’s just too much. Also, I do struggle with greed and abandonment issues so when it is time to cut dudes off and focus my attention on one I am hesitant to do so. Yes, I like this man more than I do the others but as soon as I get rid of the others the front runner is going to do something stupid or outrageous I just KNOW it!

Word Problem: Naomi has 4 apples. She gives 3 to John and 1 to Mark, how many. .. no, wait— Mark was really sweet and asked to read some of her poetry so she takes 2 apples from John to give to Mark. John is not very happy that his apples have been taken away so he throws his remaining apple in her face. How many apples does Naomi have left?

Let the Bodies Hit the Floor

Me and Jamaal never amounted to anything, though we used up the whole summer attempting to make things work. True damaged asshole that I am, I attempted to reconnect with Marley and several half-assed text messages later I realized that he was done with me. It serves me right because 1. I was STILL talking to a few other dudes at the time and 2. my execution is poor and I don’t really know how to express myself without either completely avoiding a situation or being too blunt about it and hurting feelings (not that any super deep feelings are really involved in these situations!) It seems the smart thing to have done would have been to let the situation with those two men play out just a little bit longer before deciding to axe one, however I don’t think that can ever be my solution. My biggest fear in doing that would be that I would end up dating two men indefinitely with no sign of commitment or monogamy in sight. I don’t want to be that girl—but I think I’m that girl :-/

PPL wake up

Here’s where I am now: I was dating two men and one man has suddenly risen to the BIG CHALLENGE and proven himself the clear front runner. We’ve spoken lightly of relationship in between dazed kisses (which means absolutely nothing) but other than that there is no guarantee this dude is going to actually go the distance with me. My problem is that I give zero fucks what’s going on in his head: he is what I want. I am smitten with him, he makes me laugh, he gives me the right amount of attention and affection and overall good feeling so why do I have to sit in a booth of a TGI Fridays with another man grateful for a free meal and lackluster conversation? I know what I want, its time to purge.

I slowly fade away from the other guy and he becomes more persistent. I don’t want to tell him I’m interested in someone else more because that’s like telling someone they are not good enough. I simply tell him to let me go and he won’t. stop. asking me why. I DON’T KNOW!!! Because someone always has to get rejected? Because it’s your turn to be hurt? Because this is how dating multiple people works? Because you’ve involved yourself with an indulgent, indecisive, philandering narcissist that all of a sudden doesn’t like you anymore and can’t even pinpoint why?!

I'm a terrible person

I’m a terrible person

In the meantime, I get a call from ANOTHER guy I dated over the summer and he sounds hurt that he hasn’t heard from me. I’m just left puzzled and unsure what to do with all these man feelings lying around me. When my fallback game is vicious it’s not because I’m playing games it’s because I actually do not care about you anymore…at ALL. But it seems the simple fade away is no longer a good tactic and I have to explain to people that casually happened into my life why I no longer want them in my life anymore (not that they were actually even really there).  My spam messages inbox is chock full of random dudes I’ve blocked claiming they miss me and wondering why they haven’t heard from me. (-_-) STFU! Why do men do this? It just makes me feel bad when I KNOW they really didn’t give two shits in the first place…


How I WANT to respond…

The Point of It All

At this point it almost seems easier to just continue to juggle and try not to get too attached to any one person. I mean, what is the benefit otherwise? Here I am, severing ties with men left and right to focus on the one person I really like and there is no guarantee of a return on that investment. This is exhausting! And the question is, now that I’ve spent my summer juggling will I actually be able to settle down and focus/receive attention from just one person? I think the answer is yes but I suppose only time will tell. Sighhhh, stay tuned for this developing story…

Intertwine: A Tale of Casual Sex

ETC - Intertwine Image

Image from: atlantablackstar.com

I’m nervous but I’m calm. My breathing is even. My thoughts center around my stomach—I don’t want him to touch it. But you can’t censor others while in the throes of passion so I watch as his hand travels the length of my side, caresses around and finds my belly and squeezes the fleshy substance there. I have to bite my tongue to keep from saying something overly self-conscious and perhaps ruining the moment. I am calm on the outside but too shy and afraid to touch him just yet.

I usually like to offer a full body massage—it’s a way to familiarize myself with someone’s body for nonsexual purposes and it clears my head and relieves tension. There is something about the feel of someone’s skin underneath the palm of your hand or directly against yours that is enough to be a complete pleasure overload. But I’m not massaging, I’m being touched and the sexy, confident woman I felt like I was just hours before has disappeared. I’m on my back and I can’t keep my mouth closed. I’m loud and moaning and panting—the stuff of porn stars because I don’t believe in holding back or holding in. The stress of the day, of the weeks, all frustrations, loneliness, business, happiness are mixed together on that mattress and expelled into several ear rupturing howls.

I don’t know this man above me, on top of me, inside of me. I know his body now and how he feels. I know the hard lines of his flat belly and the sound of his breath against my ear and the feel of his soft wet mouth against my neck. I know the twinkle in his eye when he laughs at my jokes and I know he’s been hurt before and doesn’t want anything serious. We’re in the same boat that way—adults acting like children, afraid to connect with someone and afraid to attach only to be hurt and devastated by abandon. I’m not looking for a boyfriend, I’m not looking for anything; I am a liar. Spending time with him makes me more familiar with his soul and I find myself wanting in deeper. Fear paralyzes me and maybe him as well, so we give ourselves physically because we’re just so depleted emotionally. This is a mistake…

Desire robs me of free will. I’m in this thing now—can’t stop. I can’t decide if I want this but  I want this and I know I don’t need this in my life, but I need it now. My legs act independently—wrap themselves around his waist as he enters me. Absolutely.no.turning.back. I zone out at this point…my body finds its own rhythm and my mind becomes a random series of thoughts and phrases. No,  too soon, not enough, what next, how, when, yes, yes…YES!

Then it’s over and I comedown from the high. I lie in a pool of our sweat and my own euphoria. I am vaguely tense, aware that so much changes for a man after he ejaculates. Sometimes so much lies at stake in that one deposit of semen—out flows his desire for you, his urgency, his interest in you as a person. The ultimate prize has been collected, it’s time to go home. My eyes are wide open and I wonder how I allowed myself to change my view of sex so much that I am here in this place with this virtual stranger having shared so much of myself. I was a virgin until I was 20 and I feel like that hymen has since ruptured a thousand times. Sex used to be “making love” for me—now it’s an act of cowardice. A consolation prize. I can no longer give you my heart, it’s been shattered to pieces, but here; take all of my body instead. I will lie with you and listen to your dreams, I will stroke your naked body and your hair, admire your potential and believe in you, fall into you…in love with you—but I will never tell you.

I lie next to him, my body rigid and I’m close to tears. It must be so easy for a man to use women this way and have it mean nothing—I’m nothing! I feel myself give in to hysteria as I struggle not to unravel right before his eyes. My body stiffens even more as I feel him reach out and touch the small of my very naked back. His voice is unsteady and he trails his hand up the path of my back and up and up to cup my face, “I think I’m falling in love with you….”

Sex Can Wait, Masticate!

The new dulche de leche milkshake at McDonald’s is 850 calories of absolute ecstasy. I bought it for the first time and I sipped it, filled with delight each time a straw full contained about 3 tablespoons of caramel. Oh. My. God.

A side effect of struggling with depression, for me, is dealing with the weight fluctuation. I have ranged from hourglass, to Coke bottle, to 7Eleven Big Gulp way more often than I would like. I am not the iconic Janet Jackson, I cannot get away with this shit! The upside is that lately, I have a lot of time on my hands so I try to exercise at least six times a week—but I also struggle with control and discipline problems, so this does not always go well. I am positive that downward facing dog does not involve tears, and you’re not supposed to curse in between each sit up but I do my best to make it through.  The eating continues… 


Finally, I was able to put my finger on it (mmm, chicken fingers…). My terrible eating habits can be traced back to sexual frustration rather than directly to depression. Once the kids go to bed I feel like sitcom jokes get raunchier, commercials get sexier, and I’m sitting alone on my couch (ok, futon) wide-eyed, eyebrows raised going “Well, ok then!” I held onto my virginity for dear life until I was 21 years old—why the hell can’t I keep it together now? The problem is that sex is so available. Sex is attainable to the one-eyed cat lady down the hall, it’s definitely attainable for me, and all of us for that matter. Most women (even my crazy ass) have at least 2 guys that are available for her to sleep with at any given time…but I’m a dreamer. I want more. I’ve been intimate with guys I feel nothing for and it’s just not that awesome. 


There are a lot of bold broads out here that are ridin’ around and gettin’ it—you have absolutely no judgment from me. I actually tried to be like that and it didn’t last for long. This is so silly—but I promised I would bare all—I called this period of my life “Rumspringa”. For those who don’t know, Rumspringa is a period of adolescence in the Amish community when they let their teenagers essentially leave the community in order to experience the world for a certain period of time. After all the sinning is said and done, they get to decide whether they want the renounce Amish culture and stay in the world or go back to their religious lifestyle. Since I am clearly Amish, it made sense in my mind to participate in my own version of this, though I was way past the acceptable age for it.  

Needless to say, the first time I tried it I was about a month in before I was in love and three months in before I was pregnant. I should have learned my lesson from that experience, right? Not so much. After my new little baby was old enough and I thought I could handle dating again I decided to implement another Rumspringa. This perfectly sexy and random guy just kind of fell into my lap, just in time for my sexual awakening part II, BUT, due to a series of crazy schedules and miscommunications I never got to sow any oats, plant any gardens, spread any legs, WHATEVER.  I actually ended up getting to know him the old fashioned way, catching feelings for the guy and WORSE admiring the hell out of him. After two failed Rumspringas it is clear to me that I am not about that life. Hitch up the wagon, Mama, I’m coming home. 


Image from: katekendallyoga.tumblr.com

I’ll carry this sexual frustration with me for God knows how long and hope I don’t need gastric bypass surgery before I find some relief. I don’t need to get to know a good burger with fried egg (yum!) or have the Defining the Relationship talk with an Oreo ice cream sundae before I hop into bed with them. I will wake up each morning, tasting the memories and humiliation of the night before on my tongue. I will throw on yoga pants and do the walk of shame from my bedroom to the DVD player to pop in an exercise video and cry. I will bear the burden of overindulgence. I am fully aware that my drive to work out is the equivalent of the smell of Altoids on an alcoholic’s breath but it’s a start. I would rather have my waistline suffer than play the dangerous game of sex with no feelings attached. 


Image from:www.examiner.com