Bitches, man.

I went back to my favorite restaurant in Brooklyn, the one with the cute Sicilian waiter, a week ago (or something). I don’t remember now exactly how it happened, but I ended up giving him my number and we were on a date a couple days later.

The texts leading up to the date were infrequent and flirtatious- we were meeting for a drink in Union Square and I told him that if he was sweet to me, I might consider going to the beach with him the following day.

He arrived really early for our drink, so when I arrived he was a few drinks in watching the World Cup at the bar. We decided to get a table and have dinner, first he had to smoke. He’s younger than I thought- and I don’t mean in his age per se, more in how he presents himself, dresses and acts. He is about 10-11 years my junior. I was not really feeling much, but I was not (yet) repulsed so I stuck with it.

Dinner was sweet and flirtatious- we sat on the same side of the table, physically at ease with each other. I mentioned early on that regardless of how sweet he was, we would not be going to the beach the next day due to the weather. All that beach stuff was a half joke to me, but I should be more careful with young foreign men. When I said something he found silly or sweet he would pull me close to him and kiss me on the neck or shoulder- I didn’t mind; a couple times our faces/mouths were very close and we nearly kissed but did not. He has a really interesting life story that I was curious to hear more about and it is very sexy to listen to someone look for the right words in Italian. Every now and then, he would teach me how to say things in Italian- which made us laugh, affection was easy with him. He often did this strange twisting thing with his tongue and ran the tip across his crooked teeth which was unsexy- it just confused me.

I was not particularly interested- I found him sort of macho, immature, and kind of sketchy. He also really likes to drink and talked about having a relationship with pot that was a turn-off for me, too. I mean- he is fine as he is, I don’t mean to sound judgey- it’s all good- I just was not feeling him. He was definitely sizing me up to determine what my values were regarding sleeping with his friends- and wanted me to know that they were off limits, which sounded like a bummer because he has a good sized group of young, Italian, soccer playing friends- which, in my imagination, could have entertained me for the whole summer. Alas.

I would have met him a second time- why not. I might have even taken him as a lover, why not. He was very doting and intense and that can be really fun in bed. Plus, not to stereotype but- hey, he is Sicilian! I had a Sicilian lover for many years and he lived up to every delicious stereotype regarding Sicilian men (sexually). I was hopeful. But things sort of took a nosedive when we were getting ready to leave the restaurant and I was preparing to go home. He wanted to take a walk in the park- I obliged. He wanted to sit and talk but the benches were wet so he wanted to go to a bar- I obliged. I sat and waited at a table while he went to the bar for drinks and in the time I was waiting, a man came up and offered to buy me a drink- probably out of good manners or something. My date caught a glimpse of this in the mirror behind the bar and was angry when he got to the table. He asked me what the man wanted and I told him he kindly offered to buy me a drink, no biggie- and my date turned around and yelled to the man ‘Oh? Would you like to come over here and offer to buy ME a drink?”

Ohhhhhhh Christ, here we go.

He turns back to me and asks if I am coming back to Brooklyn with him or are we going to my apartment uptown. I laugh and say that we are not having a sleepover tonight. He proceeds to sit up, stiffen, cross his arms while taking a sip of his (6th) drink. Gives me a dirty look. Starts looking around the bar at the other women there. I laugh again and ask him what’s wrong- he is dismissive, cold. We have some words and it essentially boils down to he felt misled because I am not going to go home with him- and even though I find this disgusting and manipulative, I did apologize if I said or did something to mislead him but that this behavior/exchange was definitely not changing my mind about it. Fucking childish. I tell him that it’s time for me to go home and I stand up to leave. He sucks down his drink and walks past me to the door, holding it wide and looking angrily into the distance as I pass through.

As we walk down the block he says some more bullshit about me going home with him “just to cuddle” and questioning my decision not to, after we seemed to have gotten along so well at dinner. This is all making me even more incredulous and angry, but I stayed pretty cool and just said “I am sorry that you are disappointed, [sexy Italian name here]. Maybe if you want to get together next week for a coffee or something, we can see what’s good then, Ok?”

And here, my friends, is the moment: he turns to me and says, “[my name here in a sexy Italian accent], either you come with me now, or I will just see you around” as he lights a cigarette and raises his arm to hail a cab. Gasp! I blinked hard, mouth agape, then shook my head, turned heel and crossed the avenue. He called out my name and I did not turn back. Go. Fuck. Yourself.

He catches up to me a block or two later, grabs my arm, I want to spit. Tries to spew all this pathetic dramatic bullshit about all the people who have let him down, how he does not meet women like me everyday and really wants to do whatever he has to do to make it up to me. My head is pulled back like a turtle and I am shaking it no, no, no. I said “I don’t want this [insert big arm gestures from him to me, circle around the air in between] in my life. This is crazy. So thank you for dinner, but, goodnight” and as he continues to try and explain, I hailed HIM a cab- gesture him in, he tries to kiss me and I turn my head, close the door on him, as he is calling out for me to text him when I get home.

Sure. No problem.

Needless to say, we are not going out again and I will have to connect to that crew of young Italian soccer players some other way 😉 I’m sure I will think of something…

 

 

xxx

Headlamps in the Lion’s Den

I have started and erased a sentence 8 times because I want to start this story the right way.  Been away from this, from you; and this story can get lost in the telling.

An old friend visited me last night.

We both have long been spiritual seekers-  sometimes humans come out that way; I did.  I was born during the Week of the Seeker. It wasn’t always clear in language that GOD is what I was seeking- sometimes it was connection, creativity, meaning, nature, sexuality- but it was always with me; and he (the friend who visited me last night) was the same from childhood too, though his seeking was always native and natural,Earthy, sexual.  Like I was the little girl in the outfield with the balls just rolling past because I was picking flowers and singing to the clouds and he was the messy muddy boy of frogs and fires.  We did not know each other as children, but grown, it is our wounded inner littles that often come out to play.

I remember vividly the first time I saw him- it was like that scene in the movie Requiem for a Dream (here) where they shoot up- prick, surge, dilate, swooosh and giggle- the pheromones detonating way before hello.  I saw his response across the room.  Within a week, I found him on Facebook; we exchanged veiled, charged messages (he had a girlfriend) and then I offered to lend him some gear for an upcoming solo camping trip he was taking.  A headlamp, sleeping bag.  The exchange that set it off was something like:

B(oy): So how will I get this gear from you?

G(irl): You can stop by my house to pick it up.  [Address provided]

B:  Sure.  I will walk into the Lion’s Den.

G:  Great, see you soon then.

When he came to pick up the gear, I served him tea and we played dress up.  He stood me on a foot stool in my green lace tights and adorned me with belts and feathers; I made him a crown of hydrangeas and a sequined bandeau.  It was late September, Indian Summer and we were very, very warm taking long, close breaths of each other- practically levitating from the energy building between us.  Twenty something and he had the dimple/brown eyed/crooked teeth trifecta that I lose my mind(panties) for; I was taut and leggy like a deer, wide open eyes like the sea.  That night we kissed and it broke the spell- I turned him out into the night with the headlamp and sleeping bag.

The next week is kind of blurry in my mind, but he reminded me of some of the details when I saw him last night.  There was the drive out into the hills to stargaze in the grass when the forbidden hesitations drove us wild; the ungraceful break up; climbing up my fire escape and staying in my bed for 2 days with the phone off.  Going back to his apartment to face what he had to face and then sitting on my stoop tying a bracelet he made around my wrist while he told me he was going to try and work things out at home.  It wasn’t love between us but it was something and I was sad to see him go, but I understood on a soul-level the necessity of what he had to do.  The mess that followed was not dignifying to anyone involved- violent threats and psychotic jealous all night phone calls, police reports, carrying mace.  More drama than I had seen in some time and I was glad, so glad, when it stopped.  We stayed away from each other for a long time- at first, deliberately and later just by virtue of leading different lives.  At some point we made a peace- I was seriously involved and living with someone else and we had both grown enough to prioritize forgiveness and love above all.  I think, too, that we had recognized the divinity in each other from the start but were using a very primitive language to express it.

To be honest, over the years I did not think much of him and was sort of forbidden to be even a casual acquaintance to him by my boyfriend at the time.  Funny the things that happen.  I guess I noticed who he was dating and sometimes heard of some of the more dramatic spectacles- I was probably judgy and cunty about all of it.  We had many mutual friends and a sort of peaceful ambivalence that worked.

A couple years later, he bubbled up in my consciousness because I was about 6 months out of the serious relationship and was looking to forget myself in someone else’s charm for a while.  In hindsight, the whole thing was pretty shitty- I manipulated and seduced him because I was hurting badly.  My hurts appealed to his instincts to heal and provide for someone, and he was trying to have a real relationship with me.  It was about two weeks and it hurt both of us but we managed to cut it off, give it space to breathe and be friends.  There was a little sputter one night and I went to his house, got mine and left- which was a cold cruel thing to do.

Hurt people hurt people, is what he told me.

So again we just became like a piece of art on the wall of each other’s imaginations- he was there/not there, it was peaceful, dormant, a non issue.  It was more than an old hook up but way less than a broken relationship, and it was fine.  I admired him in many ways for his creativity, playfulness, and spirituality.  He dated a very close friend of mine and while at first I was hopeful for them because I cared for them both and thought they might just be perfect for each other, in the end when that didn’t flourish, I sided with her and disposed of him energetically.

Fast forward to yesterday, 2 lightyears later: through a series of “coincidences” I was struck by some nostalgia for him, and decided to just reach out and invite him to coffee because I knew he was nearby and that he was moving very far away, very soon.  I wanted to make amends and be enchanted by his stories and his light.  I felt nothing but warmth and goodness, even if it was impulsive and wildly unpredictable for me to contact him.  And as our connection has always been a little reckless and hard to follow- it would make sense that hours later he is in my yoga class and we are like old friends.  I think the old friend feeling came both from that spiritual connection and that this story took place over the course of 6-7 years.  That and a lot of my affection for him is derived vicariously through the relationships he has with our mutual friends.

It was a beautiful night and I think that came from both of us being open to whatever evolved and that we were coming together as whole adult people.  I was able to apologize for the things I had done to harm him, he gave me the gift of forgiveness.  We were able to talk about our lives without reservation, and acknowledge the chemistry that remains between us.  We were discussing other relationships and he said something about mistaking chemistry for real connection that really struck me- we had both done that very same a dozen times.  We’ve grown into people who want to be able to express ourselves fully- including sexually- and we were comfortable relating to each other in what was a familiar but also totally new way.  And then something happened that rocked me, unexpectedly- like only intimacy with someone who truly knows you and cares for you can do.  In a half embrace we were nuzzling as he was touching me, and just as the sensation began to climax, he pulled my body close to him and held me tight in a full embrace, saying “I’ve got you, baby, it’s ok, I’ve got you” and my tears gasped out from a hidden place; buried in his neck, crying into our hair, he did not ease up and did not let go- he made space for whatever was releasing in me.  I guess in a way, for some time I had been experiencing orgasms in isolation- even in the company of lovers- like I sought the oblivion of them, “riding the outer ring of my own private Saturn” (the great poet Sean Daley, here:

It had been too long since I had been with someone who wanted me to connect to them in that moment, for me to feel safe enough to actually feel what was happening and to stay with me, or with them, there.  It was very humane and beautiful; and as friends we were able to move from that sacred moment into others sweet and silly and soon, sleepy.

This is exactly what I would seek to create in my own Utopia of what polyamory and “friends with benefits” would be.  Because look, he is great but I don’t have any longing to be anything different or more than the moments we share when we share them.  Most likely, I will not see him again for some time and I feel so peaceful about that- just blessing him on to the next thing knowing that he is doing the same for me.  What we shared last night- all of it- was previously unavailable to us.  It’s like one of the secret levels in a video game- we, or I, did not have the code, but do now.

It’s late and I’m tired so I’m getting a little rambly but I’m pretty sure there is a synthesis here, a complete loop, another dimension…  inwardly reorganized.  Makes me think of that spiritual tradition where people believe that we are born perfect and complete and that the whole life process is just about remembering all these things we are born knowing, our souls code.  I just remembered something; tho I can’t articulate it exactly, the visceral sensation is one of remembering and wholeness, I feel complete and recognizable to myself.

The other night I went to see a show with one of our mutual friends, and the nostalgia for this friend was ignited because our mutual friend had just gone to a show with him a few days before.  In the second encore, the musicians covered  Time After Time by Cyndi Lauper, the poetry of which has always been striking to me.

Time After Time

Cyndi Lauper

Lying in my bed I hear the clock tick,

And think of you

Caught up in circles confusion –
Is nothing new
Flashback – warm nights –
Almost left behind
Suitcases of memories,
Time after –

Sometimes you picture me –
I’m walking too far ahead
You’re calling to me, I can’t hear
What you’ve said –
Then you say – go slow –
I fall behind –
The second hand unwinds

If you’re lost you can look – and you will find me
Time after time
If you fall I will catch you – I’ll be waiting
Time after time

After my picture fades and darkness has
Turned to gray
Watching through windows – you’re wondering
If I’m OK
Secrets stolen from deep inside
The drum beats out of time—

xxx

In Good Company

Whooops I meant to post this on the eve of my 36th birthday (2 days ago)(it was beautiful, thank you).  Paula is probably 36 now too.

http://www.nytimes.com/video/opinion/100000002593981/35-and-single.html

 

xxx

The Upper Left Quadrant & The Over/Under

I may have mentioned somewhere along the way that during the 100/100 project, I met a woman that I would like to date.  I tend to be pretty hetero in my relationship conquests- when I was younger and drinking heavily I slept with a bunch of women, but have not really dated any. I find some women incredibly sexy and when I watch porn it is most often girl-on-girl or threesomes; this is pretty vanilla, I’m sure it somehow relates to internalized sexism and objectification but I don’t want to talk about that today. THE POINT IS that it is unusual for me to want to date a woman- you know, charm her, care for her, want to learn everything about her, explore and relate to her complex inner workings PLUS have a lot of sex with her- like an actual relationship.

So this woman is obviously exceptional.

Turns out, as it would, that she has been pretty active in the polyamorist/swingers community- not that I should be surprised by this AT ALL given who and what I seem to attract.  And some nudist group… but all this in addition to being brilliant, successful, generous, loving, so fun to be around and blindingly beautiful, inside and out.  Talking with her about my experience with my lover was really insightful… a little tough to swallow, but insightful- because to me it was, like, unfathomable, that someone could not connect emotionally and spiritually to a lover, ESPECIALLY to ME, but she set me straight with that nonsense.  Maybe I can’t do it.  But other people- for myriad reasons that extend from trauma to drugs to conscious emotional shut downs, do it all the time.  Even with compelling little me 😉  She advises that I stop seeing the lover individually but stay friends with him- go to a party, invite him as a third where applicable.  I don’t necessarily agree with her, I would still like to see him.  She and I are going to attend some parties together this summer- so, however I get entree into this world, all signs continue to point me there.

We have a date tonight- er, I don’t know if we call them dates yet- we see each other regularly and have a lot of shared interests so we have a lot of tentative plans.  Semantics, not the point.  We are going to a class on orgasmic meditation (OM)– not where we practice the technique on each other (more on THAT another time) but we prepare ourselves in other ways through breathing and meditation to have more spiritually expansive orgasms.  Or something like that.  Make sure to click around on that link up there- this is some information you do not want to miss if you are a woman, or a man who is interested in women having orgasms.

In other news…

Have you ever heard the expression “The best way to get over somebody is to get under somebody else”??

Cute expression, right?! 😉 It’s not really been my style in the past… I tried it, once.  It was not good for me or him- I felt like I was on fire with anger and he caught feelings and got hurt because I was using him.  That felt super shitty and was a mess to clean up.  I don’t think it has to be that way at all- that was just my first try at it.

If you read my last post, then you know I was having some feelings regarding really wanting someone that I cannot have.  Yesterday afternoon as I was listening to more Sharon Van Etten and repotting some plants in the beautiful Brooklyn sunshine, it struck me that a good way to get this out of my system would be a nice little toss with  someone hot & new.  You know, a one night stand.  Honestly, I haven’t had one of those since maybe 2004 but I considered it a good idea.  I just don’t want to think about it anymore- I want it back on a shelf and out of my veins, right now.  I meant what I wrote about circling the wagons, too- I am so not interested in “finding” anyone right now- but if someone turns up, well- maybe.  Maybe.

I did, however, get this little idea in my head and I started to think specifically about a man who works at my favorite restaurant, which I had plans to go to last night.  He is tall and foreign (Italian :)) and super charming, maybe a little young, definitely someone who I once considered out of my league.  I don’t think that way anymore, as you know.  I put that specific idea aside and simply put it out there for the Universe that if She sees fit, to please put someone sweet in my path tonight for a little rendezvous.  A night cap in the garden.  Heh heh.

Not only did that Italian (Sicilian) man turn out to be one of our servers, but he is also a friend of the woman I was having dinner with so we were introduced.  Kiss kiss like the Europeans do.  Apparently, when I left the table to wash up, he came over to talk with my friend and said to her ‘your friend is very beautiful’ which was very sweet. Then when she left the table he came over to talk to me and we had one of those ridiculous/nervous/cute conversations, like we had no game.  It was on, I could feel it- I just felt a little shy about making a move once my friend came back.  As we were getting ready to leave, he came over and took our picture, then asked for a picture with each of us individually… then let us know that he was heading out for a night cap and asked us what we were drinking.  It was a clear opening, and I didn’t take it.  I balked, out of some respect or other feeling regarding our mutual friend.  When he hugged me goodbye, he kissed me on the cheek and stood back, continuing to hold my hand- he confirmed that he had my name right, and told me to please come back and see him soon.  I thanked him and told him I would, then wiggled out of there in my little mini dress, smiling.

Don’t you think I didn’t regret it, like I didn’t want to turn back and be there waiting for him when he walked out the door.  Meeeoooww. Nice that the Universe agrees I need to keep on, and quick- whether that is the old over/under or an OM class with my sweetie while I maintain this other more inward focus,entirely.

cheers to letters & sodas

xxx

 

All Night

This has been the week of a hundred thousand thoughts but not a single tail or loose thread to pull so I could unravel it all and show you what has been happening up in there.  I’m exhausted and I had an evening coffee so here it is 2am and I’m awake, awake.  Lucky you.

I began reading ‘The Gifts of Imperfection’ by Brené Brown this week after a mini-bender on Amazon (holla Prime!).  You may remember her very famous Ted Talk on The Power of Vulnerability (<—- click that if you do not)(I just learned how to code links so no more copy/paste web addresses!!).  Maybe you want to have a first or second look- it may be insightful.  I wouldn’t gush that I loooove her or the book but I appreciate the discussion and some of the practical action/suggestions she makes. There are a few things going on in my life, personally and professionally, that Dr Brown’s work sheds light on, in a rip-open-the-drapes-to-the-midday-sun kind of way.  The book specifically focuses on Brené’s research on shame.  Becomes clearer all the time how influential shame is in my life…  Synchronicity is a funny thing when you’re a meaning-seeking little story teller with a spiritual bent, like me.

Gosh, life can be so very tricky sometimes. Grateful for that which helps us grow and shine right through it.

Speaking of resources, a friend sent me a Tracy McMillan article from the Huffington Post that got my haunches up a bit.  It was titled “Why You’re Not Married (<–)” ; then I went on to read another article from her written in the same voice about being a female Peter Pan(<–).  It wasn’t until I watched the video at the bottom of the first article that it dawned on me I had read one of her books last year- and I remember feeling mostly meh– about it.  The articles are a little touchy, she is brave to write the things that she does, but brave does not equal correct- these really are inflammatory statement pieces.  She does comment that she is delivering these “truths” in the spirit of generosity and wanting to help people, but, where I come from?  Truth without love is cruel.  It might make it more sophisticated and articulate to criticize… eh.  Who cares.  You read it, lemme know what you think.

It’s good timing for this all to be swimming around in my head because I have decided, after some setbacks, fresh starts & tipping points, that I am circling the wagons and getting some shit together.

Deep Sleep by Logan Hicks

I can barely stand myself anymore in a couple of key areas- the subject of this dumb blog being one of the top 2- so this may turn into one of those detox rants for a few weeks or so, like Leonard Cohen’s Book of Longing… ha, if only I could write something to compare to that masterpiece of what it is like to desire/resist/succumb over and over and over only to understand the truth about that suffering is really about God… oh Leonard, how I need you now.  I… oh God, where do I even start?  All I will say is that I have had the devastating gift of having a love with the force of all the Earth’s oceans wash over me in the past couple weeks and… well, I can’t have him.  He is living a version of the dream, with a woman- and their child.  Don’t get freaked out and judgey, not a single shady thing happened between us at all and he is admirable and respectful in every way- and I am too.  Love is like that.

I am left with this surge of anger and demand, however, shaking my fist at the sky and being like whaaaat the fuck—…  No really.  What the fuck.  Between the one I love & can’t have, and my swinger/lover (who is also in many ways a platonic ideal, but doesn’t want a girlfriend so that ‘goes nowhere’), I am feeling pret-ty sorry for myself and like I have been dicked out of something that is most valuable to me.  It occurred to me briefly this evening, after walking back from a stolen moment, that perhaps there is a larger message in this: because that’s what I do to make sense of the difficult things of my life, I seek to learn and grow from them…  OR THERE IS NOT A STUPID LARGER MESSAGE AT ALL AND THIS IS JUST SOME STRAIGHT UP LIFE SHIT THAT IS UNFAIR.  Fuck you rainbows.  Fuck you karma.

Even if a part of me is angry and sad, I remain mostly deeply grateful.  Grateful to be awake and to love like this.

So I am dropping this old shell and swimming my naked lobster ass out to sea to grow a newer, bigger one to accommodate all this growth, and/or the changes that are happening, now. Older lobsters must be the humungous mutant ones.  Good timing for this sort of introspection, given Mercury retrograde beginning in 4 hours(<–).

 

And just in time, today- I discover Sharon Van Etten.  Rocked me.  Every song an anthem.  Like this one:

 

Siren of the Seas by Logan Hicks

 

xxx

 

Set It Off!

Welcome SUMMERTIME with 87 degrees in NYC on the Tuesday after Memorial Day.  Ready for a swim; show ya skin; Gemini season.  I don’t know why but I have been having nightmares for days.

Time to turn that round.  Turn this up:

#obsessed

http://www.freewillastrology.com/horoscopes/

#informed

http://www.kitchendaily.com/read/hibiscus-flower-water-recipe

#refreshed

xxx

Nothing But Flowers

http://www.greatwallofvagina.co.uk/home

So, here is a funny thing: I have a really attractive gynecologist.  I know, it’s almost too much to bear.  So Park Ave.  He is very soft spoken and accessible and has those brown eyes that I am just such a sucker for.  Every time I have to see him, rather, he has to see me- he will conclude the exam by sitting back, smiling at me, saying “Everything looks just perfect.  Really, you’re great!” and I always feel a little, um, warm. Then he will look at me and ask me earnestly “Is there anything you want to discuss with me?” and I consider him for a moment, then snap out of it- yes yes, let’s talk about whatever it is I came here for.  Jesus.

I found him on Yelp! He is very highly rated.  Thank you, ladies.

One of the reasons I was interested in seeing him is because he is actually a pelvic surgeon and has lots of experience with labiaplasty.  This has become a really hot topic these past few years and it has many women running around worried that there is something wrong with their beautiful lilies.  I’m no different!  And, I gotta say that my first 6 months in NYC I was investigating all of the things that women do to keep themselves objectively perfect and youthful- there are so, so many beautiful people here.  Everywhere I turn someone can sell me something to make me more attractive and in times when my self-esteem is in the red, I will buy that shit.  It’s getting better, though the other day I was getting a keratin treatment on my hair and was freaked out by the toxicity of the process.  I was wearing a mask, 2 young women with smoking blowdryers in masks heat-sealing the formaldehyde into my hair… at one point I had to stop them because I thought my eyes and lungs were bleeding and I needed some air. I told these girls they should have respirators, but they were from Honduras and didn’t know what I was saying.  If I go back, I will bring them. All this to maybe have a wash-and-go frizz free life for a few months!  I digress, but, this was the event that got me thinking about the Holy Grail of the fucking crazy things that women are doing to their naturally perfect and beautiful selves: labiaplasty.

For those of you who don’t know what that is, it is the surgical removal of (most often) the labia minora.  It is exactly what you think it is, go ahead, Google it.  As a medical procedure it has been around for a long time, but every year it is multiplying exponentially as a favored procedure (http://www.bizjournals.com/bizwomen/news/out-of-the-office/2014/03/americans-women-mostlyspent-12-billion-on-plastic.html?page=all).  We are spending fuckloads of cash on plastic surgery in general, and I’m not judgy about it- we all know that money could be better spent, but hey- the problem is not the cost or science of plastic surgery. It’s our values.

A few years back, I was moonlighting as a make-up artist and this is when I first caught wind of this procedure.  In fact, the girls (literally, most of these women were under 25) were passing around a trade secret which was that there was a certain local doctor who you could see, tell him that your labia bothered you during intercourse or caused discomfort/chafing while you were walking, and he would cut em off with a local anesthetic in the office for your insurance co-pay.  You’re right to shake your head, it took me a second too, when I was first hearing this, for my brain to comprehend the information.  These unbelievably beautiful, sweet young girls with gorgeous everything were having their little pussies mutilated because they thought there was something wrong with their bodies. Mostly because they or their partners had seen some porn sculpted version or they were still thinking they were supposed to look like the camel-toe diagram from sex-ed in 5th grade.  And lookit, these girls were not getting this procedure simply because they wanted to have perfect little porn-twats, it’s because they wanted to be loved.  That’s what it is all for, sweeties- when you trace that trickle back to it’s source, bottom line: if I am “perfect” you will love me.  That is what it is ALL for.

So I talked with most of my lady friends about this, and I wanted to know all about their chochas and what they thought of them; what had they heard or read; what kind of feedback were they getting from their lovers about their labes.  Most were concerned and ashamed; many had heard certain street slang which I will not repeat because it’s atrocious. Two friends with remarkably intact self-esteem thought this was all bananas.  I considered my relationship to my lily over the years and the really fucked up part is that for all of the praise, awe, and pleasure that part of my body had received over the years, I was hung up on ONE little conversation I had with a very important ex boyfriend where, in an insecure girlie moment, I was freaking out about my body, talking about boob jobs and lip-lops and he was like “love you baby, but I wouldn’t complain if you did those things”…  and not that I am blaming him at all- he was not the genesis of the idea, he too was reared on porn and misogyny and idealized female beauty.  Bless him.

From what I learned from my friends, and in the rest of my experience, most men are just grateful you let them touch it 😉  My favorite response from a girlfriend was “Never had any complaints!”

Thank God I had all those conversations with my girlfriends, tho- because what I saw was that we all felt the same; maybe if we all felt like something was wrong with us, just run the numbers- maybe it really meant that everything was alright with us.  I have not had the procedure, but it’s not like it doesn’t cycle back through my little monkey-mind from time to time.  Then, usually, I will g-chat with a good friend and she will tell me I am being an idiot and I should give extra love to my beautiful parts. For anyone who comes across a woman who thinks she needs labiaplasty for cosmetic reasons (I’m sure there are actually medically necessary reasons too), you can just tell her she is a beautiful, sexy idiot with the prettiest, most delicious cunt anyone would ever want.  Give her a gift card for a bikini wax or a special pick for a bush-coif, some lacy lingerie, and a full length mirror that she can straddle, purr and adore her reflection in.

Most of the time I love my vajee and I’m just grateful for all the magical things she can do.  I hope if you don’t feel that way yet, you might after watching this little bit from Louis CK “Chewed Up”. The whole 10 minutes are funny but, you know, offensive to some- so if you want to only hear his pussy-worship, just forward to about 4:50 and tryyyyyyy to lighten up 😉

Louis CK Chewed Up pt 1

xxx

Revisions & Prophecies

 

(^^^ edit: my Dad used to sing this song to me when I was small.)

For many of my adult years, I was estranged from my father.  It was not unusual for us to speak to each other only once or twice a year- and this was only among my brothers over the holidays.  It’s hard to explain how it happened, exactly, but it always troubled me deeply and solutions baffled and eluded me.  It took a long time, a lot of therapy, and some intense personal and spiritual work for me to really get the significance of my relationship with my Dad and how it was affecting my life.  For a long time I was pretty dismissive of it- I would say things like ‘yeah, yeah, I’ve got Daddy issues but who doesn’t’ which effectively minimized and distanced the sorrow and blame I was carrying.  A few years ago, I was working with a therapist that I really liked and she was trying to talk to me about my father when she met the horsemen of my defenses head on and was able to skillfully pass them.  Here is the conversation:

Therapist (T):  “You have a niece, right?”

Me (M): “Yep.”

T: “And how old is your niece?”

M:  “She’s 3 and a half.”

T: “Are you really close to her?”

M:  “Oh yes, I love her madly.  She is everything to me.”

T:  “And this is your brothers daughter?”

M: “Uh-huh, my oldest brother.”

T:  “I see.  And how old were you when your father left?”

M:  “I think I was 4 or 5, I don’t really remember.”

T:  “Tell me, do you think your niece would notice if your brother left?”

 

Something inside of me burst and I cried for days.  Because I was so close to my niece and I spent so much time with her, I knew how much she loved and depended on her Papa (and her Mama) and I could easily see that she would be devastated if one day he was gone and she didn’t know why.  Her beautiful little heart would just break.  Once I could imagine this for her, I understood what that must have been like for a little me and I was very, very sad.

So since that conversation 3 years ago, a lot has changed.  Maybe everything; and not just because of that conversation, but it definitely changed the way I saw myself and my relationships.  The other big thing that happened 3 years ago was that I went through a painful break up where I was pushed right into that wall of fire within.  Fire, the element of transformation and Shiva, the destroyer, met in the goddamn Tower; my whole life jerked a sharp left turn and I’m so so grateful.  Ultimately, thank God, right- I had to go through that- but holy shit, how we survive life sometimes is a total mystery.

A few months ago, I sent my father a letter because it was really clear to me that I had to get complete in that relationship before I would be able to move forward in my life.  In the letter, I explained to him that I would really do anything to get right with him, and I took responsibility for all the things in my life that I had been blaming him for.  I thanked him for all the things that were going well in my life and simply, for my life.  My sort of primary “issue” with him was abandonment and with this little word I had blamed my Dad for all of my failed relationships and my very unsuccessful manner of relating to men.  When I finally saw that my relationships were my responsibility, he was free to just be my Dad and I could have this new experience of him.  Profound.

So, here’s the thing about a letter like this, or these amends that I have been making: I have no idea what the ultimate outcome of the situation will be.  All I am doing is cleaning up my side of the street, as they say.  A gesture so large obviously will move the universe, as the laws of physics explain.  To be sure, my cells rearranged just as an act of seeing things so differently and clearly- which was enough.

My father was really receptive to my letter and he wrote me back a couple of weeks later.  First he sent me an email right away thanking me and just letting me know that he was choosing his words carefully in writing me back.  I came home late one night, mid December, to his typed letter.  He explained it was not impersonal to type it, he just feels that he has bad handwriting- I thought it was cute for him to clarify this.  This letter really rocked my world because he basically re-wrote the history of my life.  I had long believed that my Dad left my mom and us 3 babies because he didn’t want that life anymore.  What he told me in this letter was that it was my mother who left him because she had fallen in love with somebody else (my stepfather).  My Dad said that he did everything he could do to try to keep his wife and kids with him- including going to rehab and getting sober- but that my Mom was unyielding and served him with divorce papers.  He wrote something like ‘divorce is a single event that occurs in the context of many sad moments in a broken relationship’.  Really, my heart exploded with compassion for my Dad because I guess I could relate to his broken heart- he became so fragile and human to me.  This story gave voice to that chronic, unsettling feeling in my childhood that things were never as they seemed.  Even my love and compassion for my mother and step father expanded because I could see their humanity in a vastly different way, a way that I think they very carefully tried to prevent me from seeing.

I have not shared this story with my brothers, nor have I brought it up with my mother and stepfather- this in itself feels like evidence of a change in me.  That I am big enough to hold this truth and let it change me in a quiet and durable way.  I am thinking about this this morning because I had an experience the other day that called my ideologies about relationships into question.  I’m not sure I can tie this together in one well-crafted transition sentence…  but I can say that there is a spiritually balanced and cumulative quality to having had this experience with my father and the story of my family be essentially re-written, and whatever is unfolding in my life right now, the story that is being written as I am living it, in the now.

Love showed up in my life last year and I knew it as soon as I saw it but I couldn’t quite get my arms around it or draw it close to me in the way that I wanted and this really confused me.  I questioned what I was feeling and thought maybe my instincts had failed me in a major way.  A part of me held onto what I knew in my heart in spite of the conditions of life at the time.  Quietly, I just let it go.  I have a pretty powerful intuition, I always have- a good friend of mine referred to me as a tuning fork recently when I was describing my assessment of something- because I have come to understand the world, people, my place in all of it, based on this intuition, juju, that I trust completely.  Or that I should.  Sometimes, love comes into your life and it’s not in the exact form you would have wanted to find it but it is undeniably love.  I have so so many friends who, when they first met their partner, they were in a relationship with someone else, or their partner was, or there were some other conditions that made things a little more complicated than just declaring love and togetherness.  And it wasn’t like there was an affair or a clear longing to be somewhere else, it just took some time for things to unfold and open- then what was once unknown becomes the most obvious and natural thing on Earth.

For a long time, I have thought that my person was going to show up and be totally free, available, and ready upon arrival- and that if this wasn’t the case then it wasn’t my person.  A couple months ago I wrote about how I was afraid that maybe my person wasn’t here on Earth anymore, that something had happened to him; and then a couple of weeks ago I revisited this feeling because someone suggested to me that maybe my person was unavailable right now- like in a relationship with someone else but that he was surely on his way.  To be clear, I am not actively sabotaging someone’s relationship or even energetically wanting for one to end: I guess I have just caught a glimpse of a possibility that was not available to me before, that has clicked some things into place in a new way.  And to tie this all together the best I can, or maybe you have already done so effortlessly because you are really so much smarter than I am 😉 …  it seems that all these lessons of my life- with my Dad, the break up(s), moving to New York, the 100/100, finding my people- just ALL OF IT- have placed me in a position to be able to welcome and hold someone else, and all of the conditions he arrives with, unconditionally and completely.  And almost as important is that this person will recognize me, see me, and I won’t have to change a thing or be anything different than exactly me.

 

xxx

 

Asking For What You Want

Yesterday my friend (who I crush, hard!) asked me if I got laid a lot during the 100/100 project.  Suddenly feverish and sweating, I blushed my face off while stammering a response. It’s fine, our brief friendship has been marked by this kind of awkwardness for some time- it’s cute.  Anyway, he showed me a video of a guy and a girl randomly approaching people and asking directly if people would like to have sex with them.  Hilarious.  The girl fared better than the guy, but she may have had a few advantages… like being really hot and wearing those shorts, oi oi oi.  The videos are cute, have a look:

And here is the one of just the girl, so funny:

My friend thinks that it is way easier for girls to get laid than straight guys, and he is not the first man to suggest this to me.  I don’t think he is wrong, but I would make the observation that my (single) female friends are having sex less frequently and go for longer periods of time without sex/seem to have less lovers, in general, than my heterosexual male friends.

Why does it seem, then, that the ladies are not having as much sex as they would like?

I dunno, for me it is…  Oxcytocin.  Socialization.  Psychology.  Unrealized power.  Discernment.

What do YOU think?

???

^^^ birthday gift ideas^^^

xxx

 

 

 

Day 70: La Fin & Epilogue

I’m  a little shy of 100 days and heaven knows my counting was corrupted a long time ago, but I am going to officially move on from the original concept of the 100 invitations over 100 days.  I will continue to write and I invite you to continue reading.

Here are some points of reflection and conclusion:

1. I was/am bored.  I need to be doing something creative at all times. It’s like a puppy that needs to be taken for a run daily, the energy gets all bottled up otherwise. I knew that, actually- I guess I just got caught up doing whatever whatever over the past year and I have barely been creating anything. Asking people out (almost) everyday brought a lot of fun and insight, but writing about it was the thing I enjoyed the most. I believe that the creative, sexual, and spiritual energies derive from the same root source and when one is imbalanced the others suffer- but also that when one is booming, the others can expand dreamily.  I think too that sometimes it is easier to look outside of myself to fill the deficit.  Yes, sometimes when I am bored or dissatisfied or disconnected, I can quickly blame feeling that way on not having a partner or lover… when I think I just re-discovered that the actual need is to spend some time with my hands in the clay, pushing the fabric through the machine, or spray-painting some stickies or stencils in the backyard.  Or go dancing.  Im pretty sure dancing is holy.  The point is that more than dating or fucking or whatever, I need to be actively creating as an essential aspect of who I am. I *think when I am fulfilled and growing there, I am totally in myself. AND WHEN I am fully embodied, I am attracting energies/people into my life who vibe on me and my thing.

2.  Men are human.  People are people.  There is so much to say about the first statement and how profoundly different I feel in this one way.  I am just in this new awareness about how I have objectified men and/or how I have sought them out as my own private on-demand source of affection, sex, validation, company, emotional distraction and/or absorption,  etc.  On people being people, it’s just a matter of really seeing and listening.  Many times when I approached someone I was interested in, I was surprised to discover their person- and then find I was not at all attracted or that curiously I was attracted to people to whom I was at first ambivalent.  It was unscientific and irregular. I feel like if I had a “type” before, I’ve thrown it out now because I am waiting for someone to show her/himself to me and then I can ask them to move away or come closer. One more thing about this is that it has softened the experience of rejection because now I really see that rejection does not mean I am unattractive or unloveable, it just means I am not the preferred flavor or someone is unavailable.  Or I suppose many other reasons but really, it’s not a referendum on my attractiveness.  I have many times had the experience of finding totally attractive, lovable people not attractive to me for sometimes obvious and other times indelible reasons.  We are all just doing the best we can to be happy, living out our version of the dream.  I feel confident that me and my dream will one day fit perfectly with someone else’s.

3.  Historically, I have not been acting normally around people that I am crushing on or want to sleep with.  This has actually given me the opportunity to notice it and make very very different choices about how I behave and communicate with the people I am attracted to.  And even when I don’t really have the power to act differently, I can observe what I am doing and change the way I judge myself for it.  Move from “You’re so fake” to “It’s very sweet that you like this person so much that you really want to impress them.”  At the end of the day, I don’t want to attract someone by being different than I am and for me the vulnerability of self is tricky, even with close friends.  I’m learning.  I have some people in my life who show me love even in or maybe especially in my hideousness.  These are the people I want to be around.  I have been in relationships with people who fell for the lie and when they saw me they fled and that was some fucked up painful stuff, in the relationship and when it ended.  Now I just want someone who loves me as is and doesn’t try to shame me for the things about myself that are me.

4.  I think I want to date women.  Well, at least one woman.

5.  When someone is not interested or unavailable, respect that.  Part of respecting that means not questioning it or trying to manipulate a different outcome. Oh, that reminds me: when someone does not want to have sex, it’s also really important to just respect that, not question it, and it’s really cool to continue to be physically intimate even when you know someone will not fuck you.  I feel like this was covered in high school, but I just want to reiterate in case you forgot or thought that you were entitled to have sex with ANYBODY- whether it is the person you just met to your long term partner.  Stating that you do not want to have sex stands on it’s own and healthy grown ups can say it and also hear it when someone else says it.

6.  Energy is a real thing and we are all exchanging it with everyone we encounter.  You can choose to have good energy and to share it with people freely. Sexual energy is distinct and noticeable and powerful and is something that should be wielded with care.

7.  I want to be able to express myself completely with people I am having sex with and I don’t want any of those relationships to suffer the limitations of being exclusively sexual.  And truthfully, for me, if I am not emotionally and spiritually attuned and connected to my lover, or do not wish to be, then the physical part ends.  I might only be a love-maker.  That actually suits me perfectly.  And I guess the same statement applies to my lover not being spiritually and emotionally attuned and connected to me and closed to a deeper relationship growing: then the physical part must end also.  Even though that is super hard for me to do, it’s just for the best.

8.  Freedom is everything and the moment is the only place to be.  Valuing these, love, and full self expression above all else doesn’t preclude a committed relationship and monogamy is not the only way to love.  I’m not sure how all of this will shake out in my lifetime but I know I’m open to see how it evolves.

9.  My perception of myself in the world is distorted and shape shifting.

10. No one is “out of my league”.  Or yours.  Ask for what you want- be grateful and open to what comes.

 

And maybe that’s all I’ve got on this for now.  I’m at peace, it’s at rest.  Everything as it should be.  I love, I love, I love and am so very ready to give it all to you.