It was a warm and spring-like evening when our heroine sat tapping away at her keyboard, clad in unsightly short shorts and a 15-year-old concert t-shirt that never would live to see the streets again.
Tom Waits wailed in his gravelly splendour as a breeze softly batted the bamboo blinds. She peered over the rim of her glass at the words before her, unsure where the fuck any of it would go.
But with the right music on the right night with the right drink in the wrong clothes with the tapping toes, well, who needs luck? She shrugged. Continue reading
Category Archives: Lust & Longing
The Daunting Power of Love
Our young protagonist, involved in an unlikely affair with a considerably older woman, one that all outsiders would state an “obvious fail”, just shrugs at his dubious confronters and says, “I know what I’m doing. I’ll be all right.”
And me, there on my sofa, I scoff and chuckle, “Oh, sure you will.”
Because I know. I know that, no matter how old we are, love makes bitches of us all.
Whatever your age, power status, social stature, or financial means, when love comes knocking and your heart starts racing, almost every one of us knows the cloying struggle between terror and exuberation.
My god — someone I like? Someone I need to be vulnerable for? Someone who’ll require me breaking free of my thou-shalt-not-enter comfort zone? Someone else to be responsible to?
I know all about the terror and the desire to run. Been there, done that. Yet it happens every time.
Why? Because I’m too fuckin’ smart for my own good. Continue reading
The Annual Anti-Valentine's Posting: 2009 Edition
Ahh, Valentine’s Day. Sigh. Swoon. Won’t you be mine? Won’t you be my lover?
[RECORD SCRATCHES]
Let’s back that shit up.
Every year, without fail, I’m forced to write yet another posting saying pretty much all the same things. Like, if you can’t be romantic all year, you don’t deserve a lover. If you can’t remember to live with passion daily, then you’re wasting oxygen.
Sure, you can say, “Yeah, well, Valentine’s Day is good for young couples who are too busy — ”
[RECORD SCRATCHES]
Too busy? What, for each other? For knocking each other’s socks of with a quaking orgasm or two here and there? Too busy for head? Too busy for a stolen kiss in the corner of the kitchen? Too busy for a random, well-timed grope? Too busy for a lusty note snuck into a work lunch? Continue reading
Stupid Over Love: The Human Condition
If there’s anything that’ll make me sick of Twitter in a hurry, it’s the endless drama regarding relationships and people’s moods. Some days, life’s too short.
That’s not to say that I don’t get it when people need to vent. Oh, do I. I get it.
Last night someone complained on Twitter, “Oh, I hate when I get stupid over a boy.” So I replied, “For thousands of years, all the best dramas have been about two things: Love & War. Do the math. We’re all stupid about it.”
I wonder sometimes how many people realize this. We’re all so self-punitive when wrapped up in turmoils of the heart. We damn ourselves and scowl about being so weak. But, are we? Continue reading
sleepless thoughts
insomnia… when you’re alone, you feel more alone. when you’re not, embracing a little mischief goes a long way. some thoughts of mine just now:
3:59am. insomnia. and i’m thinking of you.
a distraction. that’s what you’d be. plain and simple. a way for me to take my mind of what i’m really wanting, sleep.
if i can’t have that, maybe i could have you. you’d do. but you’re sleeping.
still. you could just lie there. i entertain myself well, a body at my disposal.
where to start? i have notions, but i’m open to suggestion.
Sex & Food: Together Again?
I’m a foodie. Yes, I am.
And I got to tell ya, he prospect of regular sex has begun to loom, and this excites me considerably. Sets me all a-flutter, truth be told. But, you know, for all those strenuous hours of fun that potentially loom, one requires fuel. Enter food.
So I’m not sure what excites me more at this point — the prospect of regular sex, or the possibility of having someone to cook for again.
I’m a sensualist in every way. For example, my apartment is great and comfortable and is geared to stimulate every sense and look good whilst doing it. Loves me some music and candles. My food tastes run from down-home to exotic. I have a sophisticated palate, technical skill, and can invent food on a whim that’d blow your mind. I came damn close to going to culinary school back in the day but realized I didn’t want to work THAT hard for a living.
I’m also a Slow Food fan. I believe life moves quickly, and that food is important to us. I think we lose soul when we stop valuing food. I think we lose passion when we stop eating things that excite us.
I love the notion of Slow in all aspects of life — from sex to food to living. I’m present here and now in all areas of my life. I want my food to be of my time, I want to eat fresher, eat more clean food that I know I’ve prepared from scratch. I want local produce, quality meats and fish. I want artisan treats. That’s Slow.
But… when I’m single for too long, then a nice meal becomes the exception. I take shortcuts. I embrace things like Hamburger Helper and Sidekicks or sandwiches/panini or soups I eat for six days. I mean, it’s flavourful-functional, at best.
When I’m involved, however, I’m both a sensualist and a show-off. Perhaps a Moroccan chicken pie with organic greens? Maybe risotto and lamb? And while the lover of mine gets to enjoy the dividends… my life is richer for it, too.
Even better yet is when said lover is similarly a skilled foodie, because then we can tool around in the kitchen and spend the night nibbling fantastic things along with each other, and savouring good drinks. My god, does that titillate me.
There is absolutely nothing in the world I enjoy better than staying home with a lover and locking the door for a weekend, cooking fantastic food at lazy intervals between real-frequent and varied sex, napping when necessary, and catching up on movies during meals and lulls. The original rinse-and-repeat experience. And repeat, and repeat.
With the right company? Fuck, there’s no better time to be had. At home, anyhow. It’s the poor person’s vacation.
People who don’t think sex and food are intricately linked… y’all are doin’ it wrong.
It’s not a matter of taste. You’re just wrong. Flat-out. Inarguable.
(Sex + food) is like (peanut butter + chocolate). It seems like it’s always been a winning combination, and always will be.
Whether it’s Cleopatra feeding Anthony grapes from a silver platter in ancient Egypt, Adam enticing Eve with an apple, or you slipping your lover chocolate-dipped strawberries in the here and now with a champagne kicker, food hits a different kind of erogenous zone, but it hits, baby.
Besides, it’s fuel. Fill me up and watch me go-go. Sigh. Oh, the possibilities.
*PS: Yes, I’ve lost about 50 pounds. I don’t feel like I’ve been dieting. I work out a lot. I could lose more weight faster by eating less and pretending cheese and alcohol don’t exist. But why would I do that? Fucking hell. Diets are for people who like to take pain. Just silly. Instead, make healthier choices and be aware of calories burned v taken in. Simple. I’m better at math than I thought. đ
If it takes me another year to lose the other 50 pounds (this 50 took 8 months) but I’m eating cheese, pizza, sausages, and drinking booze regularly, then fucking A. All the power to me. I’d much rather health-fully indulge (my choices are better and when I do go off the hook, it’s in moderation) and feel like I’m alive than feel like I’m cutting myself off from life with deprivation. I don’t do deprivation well. So, eat? I will. Might even have seconds. But I’ll deal with it the next day. See? Work ethic! đ
All Wound Up and No One to Spring On
A storm is brewing. The air is thick, heavy, clinging,and almost chewy. Now and then a salt-laden breeze sweeps through my apartment, bringing a fragment of relief. And then it goes away, and all that’s left is this ominous forbearance of a change about to rain down on us, literally.
I love when a storm comes at the end of a heat wave. A thick wall of humidity is just cut through with sudden winds and rain, when we’re lucky with lightning. It’s nature’s equivalent of that intense tension that sometimes builds between a couple — whether that oppressive bad tension or that sizzling hot tension, doesn’t matter — and can only get broken by some good animalistic sex that doesn’t include “please” or “thank you” or small talk.
Sigh. Aside from the heat wave about to shatter, and with it this sticky clingfilm that seems to envelope me, I’m just generally hot and bothered these days anyhow. It’s that time of the month, so I’m amped on hormones, but I also had to spend a couple eight hour days last week working on sexual programming for TV at work, which can be bothersome and troubling when you’re in a well-lit office with lots of people. It’s an inappropriate time to get “into” your work, you know?
So, I’ve been eating tonnes of chocolate this week. That’s just great for the diet. Booze and chocolate, en masse, for several days. I’m chalking it up as an unholy convergence of a few sources of arousal over several days that have left me very sexually wound. A little too tightly so.
But I’ve been able to cash in and order some sex toys…
Yeah, I’m thinking the best thing that could happen for my diet right now is sex toys. Okay, well, getting laid would be nice, but that’s another dilemma altogether and we’ll just leave that for another little chat, shall we?
Sex toys: Easy to adapt to, easy to incorporate into my life, and I’ll always get the last word, and get it exactly how I like it. Right? Yes, there you go.
I have no good sex toys right now. THAT’s my problem. Ain’t that I’m not getting laid, it’s that masturbation has gotten boring. Bring on the multi-speed. That’s what I say. I mean, there’s only so much your poor little hand can do, right?
Sex toys are something we all should have. Too bad we see them as being such an extravagance. I’ve been wondering the last few days how much of my road rage and periodic grumpiness could be mitigated by some serious shagging. Or maybe I just need more chocolate. Shagging burns calories, though, as opposed to parking them on my already-ample ass.
See? This is why we need the sex toys. Because too much chocolate could ensure increased difficulty in the getting-laid capacity if it keeps appearing on one’s ass. Sleeping around is dangerous. Sex toys are safe, provided they’re cleaned properly and all that fun stuff.
This is exciting. Within a week I’ll be motoring my way to happier, more interesting orgasms. Gee, life just gets better all the time. Yes, of course I’ll share my experiences with you. I may be doing very regular sex toy reviews, actually. Let’s all keep our fingers crossed.
Being well-adjusted and even-tempered could actually loom in my life. Ludicrous, yes, but seemingly entirely possible! And all due to the fun of sex toys. Well, well. Yet another great thing about the internet.
Inspired? Have a lookie here at VibeReview, where I’ll be getting my toys. Splash-proof!
Funny enough, I’m editing this thing now and a few flashes of lightning have since devoured the humidity, and everything’s cooling off all of a sudden. Fantastic. đ
Piracy and Perceptions
Ah, me hearties, here I sit, the night wind whipping through me bedroom, as I scheme and plot. How difficult, really, would it be to sneak on over across the way and steal me that surely-leaky rowboat, strap it to my scooter, head down to the mouth of the Fraser, and set sail? How many hours â three, four, a thousand, more? â would it take to finally reach the Caribbean, where Iâm sure to not only find Captain Jack Sparrow, but seduce him?
A piece of cake, Iâm sure. As good as done, she says.
Okay, all right, so no such lofty plans exist. Ya found me on out. Iâm just a big liar/dreamer/whatever kinda gal.
Instead, I sit here in my jammies, my fleece sweater zipped to its very top, my toes curling in the chill of this unseasonal wind, thinking simply that Johnny Depp fucking rocks.
Itâs funny, we all have our definition of sexy. Me, it tends to be guys with a little extra around the middle and broad shoulders and baby-ish faces. Canât tell you how often I fall for that look. Itâs just the flavour that suits my tastebuds the best.
And everything in that description is what Johnny Depp isnât. Heâs short, skinny, has a chiselled face, and so forth. But heâs so fucking cool.
Deppâs gotten where he is with little compromise. If thereâs anything sexier than someone who makes it on their own steam, their way, with zero compromises, I wish to hell someone would show me. For me, thatâs as hot as it gets.
I try to never compromise, but the realities of my life dictate it happens more than I’d like.
Johnny Depp, though, has never, ever compromised, as far as Iâve been able to tell.
I remember my first dose of Depp. It was grade eight and classmate Joyce called me to tell me about the dreamiest new guy on this Vancouver-shot series, 21 Jump Street. She and I differed on the heady topic of men, though. I was more into George Michael and Corey Hart, and she liked the lead guy from A-ha and other skinny people like that. I grumbled and muttered, âOh, Iâm sure heâs hot,â but secretly thought heâd be another scrawny sour-puss type guy.
Well, I was so wrong. I sort of liked him. He gradually grew on me, even though I was more into Peter DeLuise for a while there. But then there was the fraternity of geeks episode, where Depp had to play a pocket-protector type nerd. He just came alive. He was so comfortable playing an absolute outcast that I couldnât help but love him.
And since then, Deppâs become the iconoclastic outcast. No one but no one identifies with the outside as much as Depp, and even as a millionaire, you still believe that about him. Thereâs just this air of outsider integrity that heâs never been able to shake. And unlike all the other so-called âbad boysâ in the world, heâs absolutely as polite and gracious as can be.
Depp is the new man. A rebel and a sweetie and an artist and an intellect and a politician, all rolled up into one sexy little package. Men who wonder how to show their sensitivity and how much is too much should look at Depp. The guyâs in interviews admitting that he plays Barbie for 12 hours with his daughter and, âIt rocks.â
The guyâs in touch with that side of himself. Being vulnerable isnât the end of the world, men. Letting us know youâre a little broken and a little bent means we can appreciate more of you. Donât worry, youâre not failing us when youâre not Big Strong MegaMan. Youâre just a guy whoâs being dug by a girl, and whoâs toppled a wall of his to let us in a little.
Hell, Johnny Deppâs getting $37 million for being unabashedly himself. Heâs dressing up with necklaces and eyeliner and being called the sexiest man in the world. Do the fucking math.
The âmanâsâ man isnât what it used to be. Deppâs the not-so-metro-sexual whoâs redefining what makes a man in the 21st century. Tell you one thing, a man of his ilk hasnât been seen âround these parts in many a decade. Hollywood ainât been makinâ âem like Depp. Not ever. Dudeâs in that rare air reserved for stars who steal the screen â Jimmy Stewart, Bogey, and Cagney â who can pull off thick, theatrical eyeliner. Oh, that narrows it down to Erroll Flynn, then, doesnât it? Bogey in black-lined eyes… hmm, no.
Whatever. That rowboat across the way is not long for this world, baby. Get me some rum, some sunblock, and Iâm on the seven seas, baby. Arr, matey. Anchors aweigh!
Revisiting: "You Can Make Me Come, But…"
Iâve not been in my right mind this week, literally. So, Iâm about to do something I donât often do, which is to qualify and revisit an opinion piece; the one I posted in response to an anonymous question yesterday.
I’m human and flawed at the best of times, but this week Iâve been plagued with migraines, sleeplessness, and a few other symptoms as a result of an acute sinus infection. Iâm beginning to get well, thank god, but itâs made me irritable, angry, unpleasant, and really, really bleak for the last few days, and I think itâs been showing a little too readily in some of my writing, and in this piece in particular.
First off, Iâm not doing a 180 here, okay? The reader asked if I thought she was a hypocrite for doing everything but sex. No, not for that reason. I think honestyâs the most important facet of any relationship â be it with a parent, lover, friendâŠhonestyâs EVERYTHING.
If youâre not sleeping with someone because youâre nervous, because you think you want to wait, or whatever your flavour is, then be honest. Say that sex is a really, really huge step for you, and you make no promises, and you may even wait until marriage, but that you really donât know what your sexual future holds for now, and they canât have any expectations of it, no matter how much you might be enjoying playing with them as you head down the road together. And if itâs confusing for them, tell them itâs far more confusing for you, because you know thatâs the truth.
Donât take the easy way out, donât choose some simple pat answer like, âIâm waiting until marriage,â when you know deep down inside thatâs not what itâs about.
Besides, youâre selling a lot of guys short. No, they may well not wait until marriage, because marriage is a huge, huge thing, but they might wait one hell of a long time for you, and youâre not giving them that opportunity to honestly consider what it is they would or wouldnât do for you.
Itâs such a hard topic, that of when sex is the right move to make. I have no qualms with abstinence until marriage, but whatever the reasons youâre choosing not to have sex, you need to be honest about them. You need to be honest about every aspect of your life, and I truly believe that.
Honesty shouldnât be some lost virtue, or something we pull out when itâs convenient to us. Itâs hard to be honest about our fears and our emotions, and sometimes being honest about them leads to hard places and difficult roads to travel because it can be so damned confusing to admit what lies behind our poker faces, but the clichĂ© of it being the best policy is true for a reason.
Itâs only through that honesty with each other that we can face challenges and adversities. If youâre being dishonest, even about something thatâs âkind ofâ true, like waiting for the right person, youâre setting the groundwork for yourself to tell little white lies when it makes things a little easier for you to process.
I disagree with that to the very core of who I am.
Did I handle the question well? No. Iâve been in a really dark place this week and Iâve not been comfortable facing it. Iâve been dealing with things somewhat passive-aggressively, it turns out, and while I have reasoning for it, it doesnât really excuse it.
And while you have reasoning for stretching the truth, it never excuses it, either. These are the simple truisms behind living a good life, and you are trying to choose how you want to live. Donât commit one transgression to stave off another. Clearly, by asking the question as you did, youâre already somewhat uncomfortable with how youâre handling the situation, so maybe itâs time to reconsider.
As for abstinence â feeling guilty about it, questioning it⊠Abstinence is a hard, hard road to choose. Youâll have weak moments. Youâll feel pressured. Youâll feel like youâre alone in a big, sexy world. And if abstinence is really important to you, then you need to be strong and hold your position. Donât compromise just because of all those pressures out there in that big, scary world. Do it when itâs right for you, because itâs not something youâll ever get a chance to revisit.
Personally, I thought I waited for the right guy. In the end, we stayed together too long because I didnât want to admit he wasnât the right one after all. You need to be aware that waiting for rightness doesnât necessarily mean youâve made the right choice, and it may still go wrong, and you may eventually realize you made a mistake, and if/when that should happen, you canât hold it against yourself. The majority of our relationships are bound to end, and many of those will end badly, and thatâs why they say that all is fair in love and war; because sometimes love is war. Sometimes itâs wrong. So, if youâre holding out, be realistic, and know that your intentions are what counts, not the end result of your actions⊠if that makes any sense.
Anyhow. I wanted to edit that piece as soon as I posted it, but my mindset had gone to a darker place and I couldnât conjure the genuine sentiment I needed to do the job right. I hope I have now. For whatever itâs worth, sorry it was harsh. I still agree with some of what I said, but I wish Iâd said it better.
Q & A: "You Can Make Me Come, But We Can't Fuck"
I was sent the following question in a comment this morning, and yes, they were right, it is an interesting topic to write about. Timeâs not on my side today, so this is a quick take on the question⊠a question that could unleash some interesting discussion, and I hope it does.
I decided that I want to wait until marriage to have sex, but I’m still a chronic masturbator and ok with doing stuff with guys that doesn’t involve penis-in-vagina sex. I guess I just don’t really trust anyone enough to go “all the way” with them. Do you think I’m a hypocrite?
You want the short answer? Yep, I do think youâre a hypocrite, more or less. Thanks for putting words in my mouth.
There is nothing that makes me snicker more than religious types (which I donât know if you are one or not) who tell me theyâre abstaining from sex until marriage, but that theyâve done nearly everything except things involving penetration.
Itâs the same reason why Bill Clinton was lambasted for claiming he âdid not have sexual relations with that woman!â I mean, come on. Youâll get them off, theyâll get you off, but when it comes to insertion, youâre gonna play the morality card? What the fuck is that?
Oral sex, manually-induced orgasms, itâs all intimacy, and itâs all banned off primetime TV, all right? It ainât for the kiddies and the after-school special, yâknow?
If youâre not comfortable having sex for one reason or another, fine, but be honest about why youâre not. Donât claim youâre some sanctimonious person waiting for the right person or whatever. Admit that youâre scared. Admit you have trust issues (which you have done here).
Itâs all right be to scared, but donât cover it up with some vow of chastity. Donât run from the situation just because you havenât got the sack to ante up and face it. I think itâs dishonest to be chronically masturbating, allowing men to get you off, trading favours, but then claiming youâre âabstainingâ from sex. Why? Whatâs the point? Youâre already doing all the intimate things a person can do. Youâre already investing in carnal pleasures. Youâre already sinning in the eyes of most religions.
Itâs the sexual equivalent of someone being issued a restraining order for not going within 100 metres of X person/place, and instead of just staying the fuck away, they stand day in and day out at a distance of 101 metres, toying with the allowed limits. How is that possibly honouring the spirit of the situation? Itâs not. Itâs a crock, is what it is.
I could be all nice and say, âOh, I understand the ambivalence of not having sex,â and all that, but honestly, youâre already feeling guilty and like youâre breaking some code, or else YOU wouldnât have asked if youâre being a hypocrite. If you have to ask, then you are. Pretty simple.
If you were abstaining from sex and not letting men finger you, not masturbating, not exploring oral, then you would not be a hypocrite.
But, you, honey, are a hypocrite, any way you slice it. Iâm sorry if the truth hurts, but it is what it is.
Youâre scared of intimacy, youâre hoping like hell youâre being Just Good Enough to be virtuous, and you know, deep down inside, that you wish you could be fucked silly, but you donât have the courage or the backbone to go there, because youâre scared that once you give them what theyâre really wanting, that theyâll walk right on out on you.
And maybe, just maybe, they will. And maybe, just maybe, those fears are valid.
When it comes to morality, religion doesnât tend to offer shades of grey. Things are sins, or they are not, and you donât get to have the decoder ring to decide just how much of one particular action equates a sin. It doesnât work that way. So, if youâre toying with it anyhow, why not just fucking buy the full-meal deal and get on with it? Youâve not started to go up in flames with the fires of Hell licking all around you yet, so what are you so scared of?
Again, I donât know if religion plays a part in your decision, so the âyouâ in regards to anything religious is rhetorical, not specifically YOU.
I just wish people were more honest about their actions, and this duplicitous âwell, you can get me off, but you canât come inside of meâ behaviour is symptomatic of all the hypocrisy that surrounds us. I grow tired of it, thatâs all.
(Feeling that I may have sounded a little harsh in this post, I decided to revisit it, as I know there are some “virgins” out there who are trepidatious about their sexuality, and I don’t want to add too much fuel to that fire. Check out my second take here.)