A Rich Fantasy Life is Good for the Soul
Inspired by Julie’s post on kissing.
. . . and maybe some thoughts about a certain someone . . . or two . . . or three . . .
We cuddle on the couch to watch a movie. A couple cocktails sit in tumblers nearby in case we get thirsty or need a little courage. We chat about nothing much during the trailers, and then try to pay attention to the beginning of the flick. It’s difficult for me to focus, however. He’s softly stroking my arm, and I’m listening to his breathing and enjoying the feeling of being close. The more I think about his touch, the more my skin starts to feel flush. I get a little lightheaded, but I like it. The actors in the movie stop making any sense, and their words run together. He must realize this, so he adjusts my body so he can see my face. I like the way the light from the television dances off his features as he searches for something in mine. As he leans in to kiss me, the only thing anchoring me to the earth is the warmth of his shoulders beneath my hands. The kiss starts like a whisper. He makes me want more. He feeds me another kiss, this time more substantial, but still patient and controlled. He backs away and looks at me, touching my face with his fingers. I whisper "more", and he gives me what I want. This time he kisses me with his own hunger, and he keeps kissing me endlessly. I kiss him back and pull him close. I want to feel his body respond to mine. We kiss slowly, quickly, deeply, tenderly. Face, mouth, neck, chest, shoulders, hands. Groping, pressing, tangled, touching, exploring. Laughing, talking, whispering, moaning, sighing. Slithering to the floor . . .
. . . and sometime later the credits roll.
We wonder whether we would have liked the movie, but don’t regret for a minute.
Yeah, I’m a cheap date!
. . . but eat your Wheaties, boys! I ain’t easy.
Okay kids, spill it! I want to hear about your idea of a perfect date.
Hooray! ! !
Lu says I always get what I want. She has a list to prove she’s right about her theory. It’s pretty impressive, although every once in a while she’s wrong. Today she’s absolutely right. I got the job I really wanted. It was the second one I interviewed for last week; the one I didn’t tell you about. I also got assigned to one of the two teams I requested. And, best of all, they met my salary demands. A 10% increase with no compromises on merit increases later in the year.This Love Goddess is happy today!alsoHAPPY BIRTHDAY MONTY!
Smile and Wave Goodbye
One of the toughest things about life is learning to accept when you can’t be with one you Love. Sometimes the stars don’t align. Or perhaps the one you Love doesn’t Love you. Maybe irreconcilable differences create insurmountable rifts. Or miles, jobs, responsibilities and obligations keep you apart. No matter what the cause, it’s hard to let go. It takes a certain kind of dedication and resolve to keep the Love in your heart alive while accepting the reality of loss.
Dealing with the pain of heartache is so difficult that some people would rather choose isolation, anger and bitterness. It’s understandable, especially in the short-term. These can be effective emotional weapons for self-preservation. In fact, I’ve tried these props myself. They turned out to be particularly ill-suited for me. They weigh me down. I’d much rather carry an over-flowing satchel of Lost Loves than a chip on my shoulder.
and so it comes again . . .
He pressed his forehead against mine and looked into my eyes. His arms wrapped around me as sweet words of farewell were whispered between kisses. The word Love hovered above the others, but we dared not speak it. Not this day. Not now. This was goodbye for what might have been. I had a brief impulse to ask him to stay, but I knew better. Instead, I ran to his car and kissed him one last time.
Sometimes you Love someone enough to say it’s okay to leave.
You smile bravely and wave goodbye.
You wait until he’s gone before you start to cry.
That's Just Super
Sometimes I have a childish longing to be a super-hero. Maybe it’s born from a deep seeded hope that somehow I can make a difference in the world. Maybe it’s because I feel powerless in the face of the chaos that surrounds me. Or perhaps it’s simply my shallow, vain desire to look fabulous in spandex.
Today is one of those days when I really wish I could walk out my door and take on the world. I want children to look up to me as a hero, my sisters to cheer me on, and men to fall at my feet. My foes will shake in their shoes and find their weak little cowardly bladders failing them upon the mention of my name.
Alas, instead I’ll be walking out the door in my office garb and a pair of ordinary taupe pumps.
… maybe tomorrow.
In the meantime, go
here and check this out. I love that Wonder Woman used to be a dominatrix dyke.
How to Interview Hot Chik Style
I had a job interview at my current job yesterday. It was with two men that I know only in passing. They both seemed a bit nervous about the whole thing. The first one (we’ll call him, Hank) was a mature and exceptionally handsome man. The second one (we’ll call him, Skipper) was about 14, and he was the one “in charge”, but not really in charge. I think we all know who was in charge.
That’s right! The proper way to conduct a Hot Chik job interview is to make sure that everyone is happy to let you be in charge. You’ll all have a much nicer time that way.
MENTAL PREP:
To properly prepare for an interview, I imagine that I’m the extra special guest on the Ellen Degeneres Show. And, to give myself an extra boost of confidence, Isaac Mizrahi is in the Green Room and he just told me that I’m the best dressed, most sophisticated woman he’s ever set eyes on. It kinda gives a girl an extra little spring in her step … don’tcha think?
THE INTERVIEW:
Hank welcomed me when I arrived. He suggested that we’d never been properly introduced before and invited me to sit down while we waited for Skipper to join us. During those few minutes we happily chatted and enjoyed one another’s company. Hank informed me that Skipper would be asking all the questions since he would be the actual supervisor for the position. Hank was there as Skipper’s supervisor. Poor Skipper!!!
Once Skipper arrived, I quickly discerned that he was indeed very nervous. It’s very important in such a situation for a Hot Chik to try to but the interviewer at ease. I cracked a few jokes and made my voice tone easy so he could relax and enjoy himself. Right away he seemed to lack confidence with where to start, so I asked a couple questions to let him off the hook. That turned out to be a good thing. I learned that I had NONE of the qualifications they were looking for in a candidate. Not only that, they needed someone to be ready to do the job within 2 weeks.
They insisted on finishing the interview anyway. That kind of made me happy. The rest of the time was a relaxed little convo about what I would do for them if they could hire me. I answered every question as a hypothetical … “if I had the training” …
By the time we were done, Hank begged me to reapply when they had a training budget. I could totally tell that he wanted me. That was a nice consolation prize. Since I’m not going to get the job, at least I know I’ve got him thinking.
When I Think of You
There’s a part of me that wants to fuck you silly every chance I get … for the pure and simple pleasure of it.
There’s another part of me that’s afraid of you. I’m worried that you’re playing with me. You have other motives and ultimately you’ll leave me in a crumpled heap like your predecessors.
There’s a part of me that wants to turn around and briskly walk away with no intention of glancing back.
There’s a part of me that wants to tell you to listen to your heart, be true to yourself, and live your life as if it’s the only one you’ve got ... no matter what the consequences are for me.
There’s a part of me that wants to hold your hand and look into your face while I listen to your worries and concerns. I want to be with you as a good and true friend. I want to understand.
There’s a part of me that wants to make Love to you a thousand different ways. I want to share pleasure with you and feel your heart beat pressed against my chest.
There’s a part of me that wants to cry in your arms, not because I want you to make it all better, but because I want to believe you’re strong enough to hold me until I’m done. You’ll whisper sweet things in my ear and I won't be alone.
There’s a part of me that wants to fly away with you on a magic carpet and live a dream come true.
Heavy Losses
I’ve been very purposeful about avoiding current events on this site. If I made it a habit to write about such things, I’d become overwhelmed in no time at all. However, the events and aftermath of Hurricane Katrina are heavy on my mind … on all our minds. The devastation of the environment, the communities, and most of all, LIFE, is dumbfounding. Recently, I’ve been especially grieved by the tragic stories of the animals effected by this horrific disaster.
When I look at my own companions, particularly my boy, Starbuck, I can’t imagine having to leave him behind to fend for himself. He’s always trusted me to take care of him in every way. I’ve done that for all the ten years that he’s been with me. I feed him good healthy food, take him out to get fresh air and exercise, and laugh at all his jokes. At least once a day I remind him that he’s the president of the belly-boy club while I rub his tummy until he gets a big doggy grin. And, even though he hates it, I take him to the vet, give him his medicine, clip his nails and give him his baths. I was the one who taught him a lot of the cool things that make him special, like how to sing like a big hound dog. Since then, he recognizes the sound of my car and welcomes me home with his funny hound-dog song. That’s just one of the many ways he shows me how much he loves me.
My sweet boy is my heart. I can empathize with those who found it impossible to leave their pets behind. That’s a horrible choice to be faced with during a time of dozens of difficult choices.
There are still many animals suffering in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina. Learn more here
Seeing Red
I don’t fully grasp why people have hang-ups about menstruation. It’s a relatively common occurrence. Nearly half of us do this for 5 of every 28 days, from the time we’re 12 to 14 years old, until we’re in our late forties or fifties. If I continue to have my period until I’m 50 years old, that will add up to about 432 times or 2,160 days of my life. It’s a normal function of my body. It’s not gross or disgusting. It’s simply something my body does. I have to pay attention to it so I don’t stain my clothes or the furniture. All around me, every day, other women are also experiencing the very same normal bodily function. So why are there so many negative responses to our lunar cycle, especially from men?
The other day, I heard a woman say that her husband won’t touch her when she’s having her period. I assumed she meant sexually. God help her, and him, if he’s so creeped out that he won’t touch her in any way because of it. Still, they’ve been married for decades. After so much time, one would think that he might have come to realize that it’s not contagious.
I’ll also occasionally come across a friend whose man refuses to purchase feminine products on her behalf. Is the guy afraid that the store clerk is going to think that he’s buying them for himself? Hell, my college roommate used to ask to buy them for me because he wanted people at the store to think that he actually HAD a girlfriend. He also begged me to let him buy all my condoms so people would think that he was having sex.
Getting close to menstrual blood poses the same dangers as getting close to any other bodily fluid. You should protect yourself with latex barriers unless you’re in a monogamous relationship with someone who’s STD free. For the most part, it’s simply nice clean blood. It doesn’t smell bad. In fact, it smells like blood mixed with pussy. There are even people who like to perform cunnilingus on menstruating women. It’s not really my cup of tea, but to each his own. However, with a good absorbent tampon, push that ol’ string aside and have at it! All the stuff you need is on the outside, and a mind-blowing orgasm will alleviate those painful cramps very efficiently.
For women, one of the biggest barriers to having sex during menses is the idea of being messy. Our society has trained us to believe that men are messy and women are not. Women are supposed to be neat and tidy. We need to keep our bodily fluids to ourselves, smell pretty and be perfectly clean at all times. Menstrual blood throws a wrench in that scheme altogether. If we have sex during our period … especially good rockin’ jungle-fuckin’ sex … there’s gonna be some messiness. We have to accept that, and our partners have to accept that too. The alternative is five long NO SEX ALLOWED days every month. That's 60 days of unnecessary denial a year.
Get creative kids. If you’re a total clean freak:
- Get it on in the shower.
- Do it in the yard and then hose off before coming back inside.
- Have the squeamish one try the blind-folded thing you’ve always talked about.
- Most vibrators clean up super easy.
- Designate those 5 days for celebrating oral and anal pleasures.
Or, get over it. Put on an old set of sheets and see what kind of huge sticky red mess you can make on them. Call it Modern Art.
Link to Art Picture Here
My Favorite Paradox
I’ve been watching and listening to people for a very long time. It’s been a necessity because all y’all got some sort of secret Social Skills handbook that I didn’t get. Maybe I lost it along with my library card, my itchy green stocking cap and my Malibu Barbie. I’ve recently learned that a lot of people with Attention Deficit Disorder (ADD) believe that everyone else has some secret book or special knowledge about how to get along in the world. Even though it’s a goofy notion, I’m a little relieved to know that I’m not alone in that belief. Ever since I can remember, I’ve been trying to figure out how other people know the myriad of social rules and norms without seeming to try. I’ve had to watch closely to learn how to deal with the simplest social situation. Sometimes it appears as if I’m shy. Most often, I’m being cautious and paying attention until I learn all the rules before I leap in. Even in my ripe middle age, some of my skills are still rather clumsy and awkward.
Over the years an interesting thing has happened. All of my watching and listening has afforded me a unique perspective on people. For the most part, I’ve come to really like them and find most of them to be goodhearted and well-intentioned at their core. Even the ones who act like a complete horse’s ass usually have something good buried underneath.
Overall, people are really fascinating. When I pay attention and listen, I hear some captivating stories. People love to talk about themselves. If I respond with a nod, an empathetic grunt and an inquisitive eyebrow raise, they’ll tell me almost anything. I’m not on a hunt for buried secrets or hushed confidences. That’s not the point. It’s learning about the uniqueness of each of us that makes the sharing so rich and fulfilling.
The very best lesson I’ve learned through all of my watching and listening is about what makes us the same. No matter who we are, or where we come from, the one thing we share is our emotions. There’s not a single feeling that we’ve had that countless others haven’t experienced before. They may not share the same exact circumstances, but the feeling is the same nonetheless.
If you’ve ever seen the Grand Canyon, you understand the feeling of awe and wonder. Those who’ve lost a Love understand the bitter pain of heartbreak. Anyone who’s waited up half the night for a wayward teenager who’s three hours late for curfew, knows what it’s like to worry … and then when that rotten kid does walk through the door, you’re so happy to see the little shit you could slap him/her (or is that just me?).
I Love the ways we are different and unique. I even Love the ways I’m different and unique. At the same time, there’s a great comfort in knowing we are all connected together by a very powerful common emotional understanding. We can never really be alone because of it.
You are unique and special just like everybody else.
I’m trapped in this tedium;
Scared of the consequences of change,
Restless and agitated with the monotony.
I’m a free woman with all the opportunities in the world.
They say I can do anything I set my mind to do.
My mind can’t seem to settle anywhere.
I have friends who truly love me, yet I feel a drifting loneliness.
The chaos that presses inward seems to feel heavier today.
Gamble Everything
After blogging for over ten months, I have a public confession to make.
I’ve been a high stakes gambler for nearly my entire adult life. I do it secretly. I do it out in the open. Hell, I do it so much that the only time I feel at ease is when I’m putting it all on the line. When I’m not gambling, I’m either enjoying my winnings or looking for another table to settle my sassy tail next to. This gambling passion of mine feeds my soul.
Although I play the risky odds, I’m happy to say that I win more than I lose. More than once, I’ve pushed all my chips to the middle and come out with riches beyond my wildest dreams. Those were the times when I could sit back and enjoy my good fortune for as long as it lasted. Sure, I’ve been down and out a few times. Who hasn’t? I learn from my losses and get better and better all the time. Pretty soon, I’m gonna own this game.
What’s my game?
I play Love.
I play it for real. I play it for keeps.
It’s the only game in town.
I’ve made mistakes along the way; even found myself caught up in someone else’s game. I used to get confused by a handsome face, hot sex, or a list of pretty promises. A few times, I wanted to win so bad that I missed the tells and lost my ass.
The key to winning is to hold out for the right hand. You’ll know it when you see it. And when you get that hand, you’ve gotta be brave. You’ve gotta be strong. Don’t hesitate, Baby. Gamble it all!
Trust me. It’s the only way to play this game.
Make a list of things you need
Leave it empty
Except for number One
Write Love
If you gamble everything for Love,
You’re gonna be alright.
Ben Lee, Gamble Everything for Love (excerpt)
