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Archive for the ‘making out’ Category

12 months.

Originally I had planned today to be the swan song for Learning to Drive Stick. I assumed, wrongly, that I would have some amazing revelations about human behavior. About human sexuality. Instead, a year in, all I have are more questions than when I began. My base questions were simple, or in retrospect, simple. Can I, a lesbian of 12 years, a woman who didn’t even like penetrative sex with her female lovers and hadn’t had a remote inkling of a novel non fleeting interest in a man in 12 years, sustain enough of an interest in any one or more men to date them and have a sexually romantic relationship with them. Sure, I flirted with a few boys during that time, kissed a couple, but that was alcohol tinged fun, not cock fueled desire. So, I set out last December on a quest, one year to meet as many men as possible, stay open to the process and see what the universe had to offer. Boy, did the universe have plans.

In the first months it was very experimental. I did have a look at my dates as pawns in a game, in a way. Or perhaps it was all like a science project, controlled experiments. As much as I was open to the process, I was awkward, at best. I was having issues crossing the line and connecting beyond the sexual flirtation. No one was getting in. I was having a blast though, so, I assumed, again wrongly, that this would be the nature of the beast. I would meet and have laughs, maybe some hot make out sessions with beautiful men who looked too good to be true (i.e. Gavin Depp), and some douche bags who thought inviting their friends on a first date and hitting on the girl in the tight wife beater, smoking a cigarette outside, was a BRILLIANT and tactful move. I assumed I would have some good stories, nothing more, nothing less.

Then Brooklyn showed up. He came at me with a relentless desire. He was just leaving a marriage to the only woman he had ever been intimate to, the 3rd woman he had kissed, and in many ways, what should have been a short passionless affair, turned into a 12 year relationship. She was the first girl to pay attention to him. The first to fall in love with him. So, he stayed. Until he decided the fall previous to our meeting, that he was done. Fini. He saw me on Match, signed up specifically to meet me, only met me and fell into a fantasy. It turned out that we had been neighbors in Brooklyn, yet never known each other, and in many ways, our connection was one of soul mates, but it was forced, by him. It was filled with a teenage fervor, making out on the beach in winter, in a car for hours with the heat turned on, on the couch of a home I was house sitting and in between the stacks of bookstores. It was hot and fast. In the end I fell in love with the idea of love. Love wasn’t what I was expecting in the journey, so to see that it could be a real possibility in the journey was thrilling. We broke off our short affair because he was overwhelmed, a night of almost sex had him rethinking his entire life. He needed therapy to leave the relationship, not me.

I did also assume, again wrongly, that sex would be fairly easy to come by, seeing that I am an extremely attractive woman with an average slender build, some fashion sense and style, and a pretty good sense of humor. Sure, except I wasn’t getting laid. Start and stops, start and stops. Hot make outs in a mall after hours following an alcohol loaded evening of jazz resulted in our getting thrown out of said mall, but when we were alone later, excuses for why the young law student wasn’t ready. Dates that couldn’t make it close to first base and my desire to have someone “be a man” about it and show me that they wanted me, rather than my taking the first move as I have in all of my relationships in my past. It wasn’t happening. So, the dates continued, the weather warmed, and the experiments went from controlled to natural as I found 3 men in a few week period who redefined the game.

Type Geek started out his date late, nice, but not thrilling. Former lawyer talked my ear off on the phone in an argumentative debate that, at times, crossed into condescending and rude, but I went out with him anyway, only to realize that I was truly JUST going to use him for sex. He seemed to be my most promising route for a lay, since Type Geek hadn’t even kissed me at week 3 of dating. So, I slept with Former Lawyer on a Wednesday and had him begin a three-day stalking that covered him showing up at a grocery store he knew I was shopping at, show up outside my door, uninvited, assuming he would be invited in, at a time when I just wanted to sit in the tub and relax after a hard day. I gave him 2 hours at a local martini bar. He told me that I couldn’t possibly like electronic music because I liked serious musicians like Rush. I respected Rush, sure, but I LOVE trip hop, so fuck off. He told me he was being argumentative in order to make my arguments and opinions more precise. I told him I had to go, I had plans. Those plans were to get back in the tub, of course, but I would not see this man again. He had however, broken the mystical seal surrounding my pussy and suddenly the world opened up.

That evening I met Cooper Fiennes on-line, we chatted briefly,flirted, and agreed to meet for coffee after an appointment I had scheduled the next day. I also had a date with Type Geek later that evening. And so, the next morning, I arose for my meeting, met Cooper Fiennes in person, and tried to hold my shock when meeting him. He was handsome on-line, but he was HANDSOME and European, and sexy as HELL in person. We walked for hours, drank coffee and talked. I didn’t feel a huge spark, but I felt his interest. Suddenly I saw the time and realized that I had 2 hours to get home, shower, wax (just in case, although since our first kiss was initiated by me, I was only so hopeful of anything past 1st base on this date as well), and get back to the same location I was sitting, for a date with Type Geek. I made it 15 minutes late. He was, of course, 20 minutes late. By 1 am I was beginning to consider it fruitless. He wasn’t making a move, and so I decided one last attempt at making myself available would need to be tried. I followed him into his bedroom as he dug through his closet for some shoes, the ugliest shoes in creation apparently, and I purposefully laid myself out on his bed and began to pet his cat. And so, this is how Type Geek made his move, finally. This was one hell of a move, as well… it resulted in great sex, my getting off, and really good coffee in the morning. After going home and showering, I met Cooper Fiennes in the city for a late afternoon coffee.

That became my summer, juggling between these two insanely different men. Sex with Cooper Fiennes was fierce and passionate, often beginning in alcoves of buildings of on park benches. He could turn me on in 3 seconds by stroking the back of my neck and breathing on it until I was ready for another 4 hour escapade. With Type Geek, it was sweet and typical, but he didn’t let me in, I was intimate with him, but often felt detached. I was beginning to think that he might be one-dimensional. a few months in I realized that I had fallen in love with the idea of sex and my body in ways I hadn’t ever been able to in my life. I had two men that found me sexy, one that showed me how insatiably, and it was thrilling. I misdirected this emotion for a couple of weeks as it being about Cooper Fiennes in general, only to see that it wasn’t, after we stopped seeing each other because he had fallen in love with his best friend.

I was considering ending my affair with Type Geek at this time as well, I wasn’t feeling anything spectacular, and while he was a nice guy, I didn’t see much else. As I trolled the internet sites for more potential dates I realized that perhaps Type Geek was that guy that in comparison doesn’t show well, but underneath it all, if the focus is just on him, maybe he is a diamond in the rough. So, I actively decided that I would only see him for a while. That awhile is now 8 months. A month ago I realized that after falling in love with the idea of love, after falling in love with the reality of myself as a very sexual being, I had also, fallen in love. He is flawed, emotionally and physically. He is imperfect in many ways. I am a overcommunicator and he is a undercommunicator, and at times I feel like a chicken with my head cut off, cause I just don’t get him, but, I love him. He is multi layered and as delicious as a Mille-feuille. He isn’t my boyfriend, it’s no grand affair with fireworks and sex on street corners and in rental cars, but it’s true and honest and real. Real isn’t always sexy, it requires a lot of work.

So, a year in. My original question was answered early on, yes, I could successfully date and maintain a sexual relationship with a man. Then I wondered if I could fall in love, and I did. Then I began asking questions about the all of human nature, realizing that while we are such different creatures, especially in how we go about processing and handling our rich and varied emotional lives, we, men and women, essentially want similar things. The only two things I truly know for sure though, in all of this, is that women are indeed bat shit crazy, even me. Men are emotionally retarded, and if they aren’t, there is some red flag somewhere that you should look for. We will never be able to have total communication with anyone we are sexually and romantically involved with, because we see things through eyes clouded with our own needs, wants, past traumas, etc. Nothing will ever be perfect, but imperfection, in all its beauty, isn’t far from grasp, if you open your eyes to it.

I no longer consider myself a lesbian, but I don’t consider myself bi or straight. To some, straight makes more sense. To me, calling myself straight discounts and disrespects my knowledge, my history, my activism in the gay community. I know too much to be straight. I consider myself, because labels seem to be necessary in our day and age of necessary compartmentalization, queer. I’m left of center, as Suzanne Vega sang.

What next? I’m not sure. I have decided not to end the blog just yet, but I am taking a break until the new year. In January I will be back, and perhaps with a different direction to take it in. I am thankful for all of the support I have received over the last year from my readers and my editors at The New Gay, as well as the gifts of the universe and even all of the crazy boys I encountered along the way. Some have become lifelong friends, others I avoid on the street, and some, one, I bring with me into the new year, filled with possibility, filled with potential and filled with utter frustration that once again, a date may get canceled and I may not get laid, because he may end up stuck in another state today due to a snow storm that hit after he finished his business meeting. Sigh.

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I know that I sometimes make it sound like I NEVER get laid. That isn’t entirely true. I get laid about once a week, UNLESS it is “THAT” week. What makes it seem so tragic for me is that I am seeing TWO men, so I am averaging every other week with each of them. Sex with Cooper Fiennes is ALWAYS hot. Sex with Type Geek has it’s surprising moments, however it had been taking a nose dive into boring routine married sex. Brushing teeth in the two bathrooms and doing our end of day grooming routines and then meeting in the bedroom. 99.9% of the time he was tucked in bed when I would join him a couple of minutes later. It made me feel like he was more inclined to go to bed than get busy. I guess he just isn’t a big initiator. I can be the initiator, but, I REALLY like when someone else takes charge.  Sigh. So, it’s been a sexually frustrating past month.

Last Monday I texted Cooper Fiennes asking if he would attend a Bastille Day soiree at a local bar/restaurant. The parties there are always quite fun and I thought it would be a great excuse to drink, flirt and dance. Do we really need excuses to do that?  Well, C.F. never responded to my request. It wasn’t vaguely put. I said, quite pointedly, that there was an event on Wednesday evening that I was attending, would he please be my date. I heard nothing Monday, nothing Tuesday. Tuesday evening I asked Type Geek to go with me. Now, Type Geek had been frustrating me because he kept canceling things and showing lack of interest. Or what I was feeling seemed like lack of interest. So, I left him a message stating that my feelings were getting hurt and I was growing more and more disappointed each time we made a plan and it was rain-checked or canceled. That I understood his job can be demanding, and that is more than acceptable, but that perhaps he needed to think out the validity of plans better BEFORE asking me to do something. After I said that, he suddenly became more affectionate and attentive. So, I gave him another chance and decided that I would see how things would turn out after the party, if he could attend. He eagerly said yes and we agreed to meet at the venue at 8 pm the next day.

The next day I had some training at my new job and had only a few hours to run home, deal with my pooch, and look fabulous. Since this wasn’t just any date night I wanted to look extra hot. I showered and did a quick, yet thorough, shave/wax combo and started to think about what I was going to wear. Inspiration hit when I found my charcoal colored tweed pencil skirt. Pencil skirt- check, white men’s button down- check, sheer black camisole and black bra and tanga panty-check, black garter belt with nude colored back seamed stockings-check check. Finished off with 4 inch vintage styled heels and hair up with red stained lips and dark eyes? Of course! Now, as I am running around getting ready, who calls me? None other than Cooper Fiennes. I didn’t answer it. I was annoyed. I did however check his voice mail. His message said that he knew we had plans tonight, but he didn’t know what was going on and that he really wanted to go for a jog, to let him know. I laughed out loud. I texted him back, still annoyed,” Go for your jog. We don’t have plans. I invited you and you didn’t respond therefore I made other plans. I don’t assume that we have plans just because I ask you to attend something with me. Have a good night. P.s. I look amazing, you should have responded.” A few minutes later I heard the text alert go off, ” YES! Next time I will respond. Have a great time tonight.” I think I am trying to distance myself a little, emotionally. That is for another post however.

At 8:15, because I am always late, I meet Type Geek outside the venue. If you have never worn a pencil skirt, let me tell you, maneuvering in/out of taxi cabs is difficult when the top half of your legs are bound so closely together. Type Geek smiled and obviously made a mental note of my outfit but refrained from saying anything. A half hour later, while at the downstairs bar, he finally told me how great I looked. I smirked and thanked him, then I let him in on the garter secret…by inching my skirt up a bit and running his hand along the top of the stocking. I know he has a stocking fetish, so this was done for his benefit. He didn’t shake his smile for the rest of the evening.

The event was fun, except for the obvious fail on their part to plan for the rain. They had anticipated French street fair style food carts outside with no food running from the kitchen. Unfortunately, it poured. My gluten issue left the single option of baguette sandwiches highly implausible, and after 2 strong cocktails, dinner was a necessity for both of us. We wandered out at 11 pm in search of something open in this godforsaken town. The reality of NOT living in NYC anymore means that dinner after 10 pm MOST nights is as impossible a find as is the holy grail. We did remember that there was a French Brassiere a few blocks away that served a late bar menu. Score! Beets and Frites and Croque Monsieur, Belgian beers and vodka cocktails, then a question, “So, do you want to go back to the party or should we go back to your place and get naked now?”  He quickly hailed a cab for his house.

Sex that night began in the kitchen and continued backing up through the hallway into his bedroom, shoes came off, pencil skirts pushed up, and suddenly we were behaving like people who are dating, not a married couple. The highlight of the evening… I got off. That doesn’t happen often. The plus for him? Besides my getting off? He got off twice in 5 minutes! Now, THAT is what I am talking about. Amazing how after a night of sex like that, you can sleep for only 3 hours but wake up incredibly refreshed.

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