A long while back I was talking with a girlfriend of mine about my girl parts. As usual I had been obsessing about my body in ways that normal people probably don't. I had a child, I had been sexually active in my life, and I didn't think that I looked very cute down there anymore. She was loving and supportive as usual, telling me that no one is cute down there. I had to disagree. I have seen quite a few adult movies in my day and nearly all of the girl parts were rather cute and well cared for. Mine did not look like that. Mine felt frightening and I didn't want my boyfriend at the time to think I was unappealing. She told me I was crazy and we went about our business.
A week or so later my girlfriend called me to tell me that after our conversation she took a good look at her own lady parts and decided that she, too, was looking worse than she remembered. By having a conversation with me about my own insecurity, it became one of hers. I didn't mean for that to happen, but it did. We both became obsessed with righting the injustice of our unpretty parts.
Since that time I have done a lot of research on what can be done to spruce it up a little. Advancements in surgical procedures and expertise have made getting a Guy-na makeover a 2 hour outpatient procedure. I'm sure you are rather sore and miserable afterwards, but the before and after photos I have trolled through have convinced me that I am in definite need of some nipping, tucking and plumping.
No one has ever told me anything about my body that would make me feel as if I needed surgery down there. This is about me and how I feel when I present that part of myself to the world. I really do believe I need a pretty vagina. I was talking to my gorgeous 20-something year-old friend, who happens to be a nurse, about vaginas. She has seen quite a few of them come into the ER in her career, and she told me that they pretty much all look like Carne Asada. I definitely do not want to walk around looking like I have Mexican food in my pants. That's not the vibe I'm going for down there.
I am also very aware that my bits are nowhere near as organized as they used to be. Meaning, when I was young and fresh and the world was new, I could fit my whole self into a teeny tiny Cosa Bella thong panty. Not anymore. I have to buy very specific thong panties because most are not made for older girls who have more than half a teaspoon's worth of things going on in that area. It's not okay. I like thong panties. I hate seeing panty lines and I'm sure as shit not going to have them myself. Strangely though, if I am trying to be sexy for someone, I will indeed put on regular pretty panties as I'm fairly sure I should not be exhibiting myself in a thong.
I've come to believe that when women discuss things with one another, they tend to imprint a little of whatever neuroses or insecurities they have onto each other. I never used to worry about going bald until one of my friends started losing some of her hair due to stress. I was loving and supportive, but then I would go home and stare in the mirror at my own hair. I even bought hair growth treatment and started using it. I have no idea if it helped. My stylist tells me I am not going bald at all. I don't believe her. I will show her my very obvious baldness and she shakes her head and says I am imagining it. Maybe. However, if I do indeed lose all my hair I am getting the best fucking wigs you have ever seen!
When another friend pointed out a little poochiness she had in her abdomen -which I found cute and kind of sexy - I noticed my own poochie, which I did not find cute or sexy. In fact, I asked my nurse friend what that big, hanging, belly thing was called, and she told me it's a pannis. Now I believe that I have one. I'm not even sure Spanx could help out with that kind of action.
I suppose the upside of having girlfriends to talk with about our real and perceived flaws is that not only will they love and support you and tell you that you're wrong, later that night they'll decide that they, too, have the exact same issues and then you'll be able to commiserate together.
What are friends for anyway?
Monday, October 22, 2012
Saturday, October 20, 2012
Sexy is as Sexy Does
I did not read Fifty Shades of Grey and it's doubtful that I will. I know millions of women are raving about it, but I don't like the fact that the books are the author's actual sexual fantasies. I saw that woman on TV and I did not like the mental images I was left with. My sexual fantasy world definitely does not include vampires or mysterious men that control me. In fact, the erotica I'm drawn to isn't really considered "erotica" because it's much dirtier and less complex. I'm uncomfortable with too much plot and not enough sex. Everyone likes different things of course, and I know that I fall firmly on the "raunch" side of sex.
Changing the subject, I want to talk about the word "sexy". It's such a subjective word that I think it's a joke when magazines like Redbook, write pieces like," Style tips for dressing sexy at any age."
What does that even mean? I looked at the slideshow, prepared to get schooled in how to "use-it-or-lose-it" and I got nothing. Sexy dressing for whom? For other women? For an elderly person? It's possible that some of the tips might make some woman somewhere feel sexier, but most of it screamed "Mom Clothes!" to me. Yes, I am a mom, but in my personal lexicon, "Mom Clothes" are not clothes that I own, wear, or will ever wear. Mom Clothes are sex repellents. They include khaki pants, animal print flats, large underwear, cotton crew neck t-shirts in pastel colors (unless they are very very tight and you are hot), yoga pants worn by women who have never done yoga in their lives, Lee Rider jeans - period, bold prints of any kind, Crocs, knee-length shorts (shorts just suck), holiday themed clothes or jewelry, lots of stuff from Wal-Mart, and Chanel-type boxy tweed suits. I don't give a flying F if Chanel suits cost $12,000, they are absolutely not sexy. There is too much to list. I am filled with anxiety about how much non-sexiness is sold in stores. I get bored of all the ugly and the schlumpy. Stop it!
Everyone that reads this blog knows that I have serious self-esteem issues but one thing I have always stood by is that I would rather be sexy than pretty. You don't have to be pretty to be sexy. Throughout history, people have been seduced by unattractive people who possessed enormous sex appeal. I want that kind of power. When a woman is cheated on, 99% of the time she needs to know what the "Other Woman" looked like. If the Other Woman is super hot, than somehow, it's just a bit easier to swallow. You never want to be the person that was cheated on with the ugly girl. I know it sounds sick but if I was cheated on with say, Blake Liveley, I would weirdly understand. And yes, I have been cheated on and no, the woman did not look like Blake Liveley. I have tortured myself for a couple years wondering why anyone would cheat on me with the woman in question, but that's useless, and it's not what this blog is about.
To me, sexy is as much how you feel as how you look. There are times you just feel sexy and you may not realize it, but it's at those times you exude confidence, say things that are a little more risky, flirt a little more, act a bit more adventurous. I'm betting some of those times are tied to drinking but that's only because alcohol removes inhibitions. Most women have a whole lot of inhibitions. I just don't see the point. Life is really short and people are going to think what they want about me whether or not I'm flirtatious.
I asked some trusted male friends what they find sexy in a woman and almost none of it had to do with clothing. One likes the smirk a woman gets when she's being naughty. Another likes the way a woman's hair smells when he hugs her. Another finds a woman unconsciously licking her lips unbearably sexy. Yet another is turned on by a woman who looks him in the eyes and is very direct.
So I started thinking about what men in my life have told me they find sexy about me. It's interesting to me that the things they liked are things that a lot of us don't really think about. My husband thinks it's sexy when I put lotion on my legs after a shower. An old boyfriend thought I smelled really sexy. He said he would daydream at work about the way my perfume smelled and how leaving that smell on his jacket comforted him (awww). Another thought my eyes were sexy, and the way I laughed.
I have a theory that women who are curvy are often considered more sexy than those that are not. I could be totally wrong but I have done a lot of informal surveying of my male friends and they say that thinner model-type girls are "pretty" or "hot" but when asked about a curvier girl they almost always say she's sexy. To me, having curves implies womanliness and womanliness implies wisdom and those things combined are powerful and yeah, sexy.
I'm interested in how you define sexy. What makes you feel that way and what do you think is sexy in someone else?
To me, sexy means having been around the block in a good way. A sexy girl knows how to kiss, knows what she wants, knows how she wants to be touched and isn't shy when it comes to intimacy. She smells great, makes an effort with her style, is intelligent, interesting, funny, and isn't afraid. It definitely doesn't involve khaki capri pants or Costco. :)
Changing the subject, I want to talk about the word "sexy". It's such a subjective word that I think it's a joke when magazines like Redbook, write pieces like," Style tips for dressing sexy at any age."
What does that even mean? I looked at the slideshow, prepared to get schooled in how to "use-it-or-lose-it" and I got nothing. Sexy dressing for whom? For other women? For an elderly person? It's possible that some of the tips might make some woman somewhere feel sexier, but most of it screamed "Mom Clothes!" to me. Yes, I am a mom, but in my personal lexicon, "Mom Clothes" are not clothes that I own, wear, or will ever wear. Mom Clothes are sex repellents. They include khaki pants, animal print flats, large underwear, cotton crew neck t-shirts in pastel colors (unless they are very very tight and you are hot), yoga pants worn by women who have never done yoga in their lives, Lee Rider jeans - period, bold prints of any kind, Crocs, knee-length shorts (shorts just suck), holiday themed clothes or jewelry, lots of stuff from Wal-Mart, and Chanel-type boxy tweed suits. I don't give a flying F if Chanel suits cost $12,000, they are absolutely not sexy. There is too much to list. I am filled with anxiety about how much non-sexiness is sold in stores. I get bored of all the ugly and the schlumpy. Stop it!
Everyone that reads this blog knows that I have serious self-esteem issues but one thing I have always stood by is that I would rather be sexy than pretty. You don't have to be pretty to be sexy. Throughout history, people have been seduced by unattractive people who possessed enormous sex appeal. I want that kind of power. When a woman is cheated on, 99% of the time she needs to know what the "Other Woman" looked like. If the Other Woman is super hot, than somehow, it's just a bit easier to swallow. You never want to be the person that was cheated on with the ugly girl. I know it sounds sick but if I was cheated on with say, Blake Liveley, I would weirdly understand. And yes, I have been cheated on and no, the woman did not look like Blake Liveley. I have tortured myself for a couple years wondering why anyone would cheat on me with the woman in question, but that's useless, and it's not what this blog is about.
To me, sexy is as much how you feel as how you look. There are times you just feel sexy and you may not realize it, but it's at those times you exude confidence, say things that are a little more risky, flirt a little more, act a bit more adventurous. I'm betting some of those times are tied to drinking but that's only because alcohol removes inhibitions. Most women have a whole lot of inhibitions. I just don't see the point. Life is really short and people are going to think what they want about me whether or not I'm flirtatious.
I asked some trusted male friends what they find sexy in a woman and almost none of it had to do with clothing. One likes the smirk a woman gets when she's being naughty. Another likes the way a woman's hair smells when he hugs her. Another finds a woman unconsciously licking her lips unbearably sexy. Yet another is turned on by a woman who looks him in the eyes and is very direct.
So I started thinking about what men in my life have told me they find sexy about me. It's interesting to me that the things they liked are things that a lot of us don't really think about. My husband thinks it's sexy when I put lotion on my legs after a shower. An old boyfriend thought I smelled really sexy. He said he would daydream at work about the way my perfume smelled and how leaving that smell on his jacket comforted him (awww). Another thought my eyes were sexy, and the way I laughed.
I have a theory that women who are curvy are often considered more sexy than those that are not. I could be totally wrong but I have done a lot of informal surveying of my male friends and they say that thinner model-type girls are "pretty" or "hot" but when asked about a curvier girl they almost always say she's sexy. To me, having curves implies womanliness and womanliness implies wisdom and those things combined are powerful and yeah, sexy.
I'm interested in how you define sexy. What makes you feel that way and what do you think is sexy in someone else?
To me, sexy means having been around the block in a good way. A sexy girl knows how to kiss, knows what she wants, knows how she wants to be touched and isn't shy when it comes to intimacy. She smells great, makes an effort with her style, is intelligent, interesting, funny, and isn't afraid. It definitely doesn't involve khaki capri pants or Costco. :)
Sunday, October 14, 2012
The Search For My Missing Confidence
I would never label myself as confident. I am terminally introverted and have always preferred to observe the goings on around me. I am extremely shy and I am also very insecure - about my personality, my looks, the weird-ass shit I say because of my Asperger's. Thus, when I do have spontaneous moments of confidence there is usually alcohol or a severe lack of sleep involved.
It's sometimes hard for people to believe that I am extremely socially awkward since my career choices clearly suggest otherwise. Being in public relations, especially in the tech industry, means that I have spent more than my fair share of time at huge conventions talking to hundreds of high-level people convincing them I know what I'm talking about. I think of this as being in "work costume" and I'm pretty sure I'm hiding behind the character that I've created. With interior design, I am also fulfilling a purpose. I'm the "designer girl" and I'm there to fix their houses. There is a mutual understanding that I know what I'm talking about and they are honoring me by letting me redesign their space.
However, my work confidence and personal confidence have remained separate. It's unfortunate because I am keenly aware that people have been attracted to me because of my confidence, which, in a twisted sort of Cinderella way, disappears the minute I am off the clock. I've been thinking a lot about what confidence means when it comes to being and/or feeling sexy. I have some very recent experience with my disappearing confidence and I am resolved not to let it happen again.
Over text and email, I am downright saucy and fearless. Who isn't? When it comes to backing up my bravado however, I have a much harder time. It's not that I don't mean the things I write, or that I don't feel the things I say I feel because I do! 100%! However, being shy and lamely insecure, if someone is inspecting my physical self, I immediately turn weird. Although it has been said to us girls many times that men do not see us as we see ourselves, I am convinced that when a man is looking at me, he is categorizing my flaws and will go home and tell his friends how gross I am. This sucks for me and it sucks for the man. My insecurities make it impossible for me to let go and enjoy the moment in its purest form.
Even with my husband, someone who apparently loved me enough to leave his country (England) and all his friends to marry me, there has never been an intimate moment where for at least a fleeting second I didn't try to turn my body another way, position myself "just so" or even find a way to drape something over the parts I hate. It's exhausting. How lame is that?! He has told me many times how pretty I am, sexy, whatever, and still, in my head, I'm sure that he's lying. Maybe I should drink more?
I do know that fully clothed, I have super hot moments. Maybe if lovemaking involved having my clothes on that would be awesome! In business, I was known for wearing ankle-length straight skirts with a slit up the back and either knee-high black leather boots or high heels. I would have on a fitted blazer or long-sleeved button down. It left a lot to the imagination but was just tight enough to show that I have a stupidly large bottom (in my opinion). The boots were very dominatrix/prison guard and the whole ensemble seemed to fulfill the teacher fantasy a lot of guys have. I rocked that look! However, peeling it all off turned me into one of those sobbing, hopeless, annoying women who think no one on earth looks more hideous than they do.
Having recently had a lot of attention paid to me (see post on Tire Guy), and having been told that I was sexy by a random stranger definitely boosted my confidence. For a minute I actually felt like maybe I have something. Maybe I could be someone's fantasy. Mind you, the whole confidence boosting exercise took place via text, but for that short period of time I had a little more sex in my walk, a little more direct eye contact was made, and I had more than one friend tell me, "See?! You have options!"
Upon showing said friends the only remaining photo of "The-thing-that-was-to-become-nothing", every single one said some version of ,"Holy shit he's HOT!" And this made me feel even better about myself, as if having a hot stranger attracted to me made me hot myself.
A while back I was in a fight with my husband and I very inappropriately said, "Well just because you don't want me doesn't mean someone else won't want me!" To which he responded,"Well they don't fucking live with you and all your shit!" He's right. Random hot strangers do not have to file their taxes with me or see me when I wake up and look saggy, squishy and worn out.
A male photographer friend of mine recently encouraged me to take a sexy picture of myself as part of an experiment on how others see me. I agreed. I was allowed to use filters and whatever else kind of witchcraft and trickery I could employ to get an image I actually thought was kinda hot. The resulting image was a black and white taken in front of my bedroom mirror in which I'm wearing black lingerie and my tattoos are looking very unexpectedly great. I sent him the photo. He printed it out and went on a little adventure around Boston showing the photo to random younger guys asking (and recording) what they thought. Not a single one said, "Wow, she's really plus size!" or "I can tell that her boobs hit the floor without a bra."
I'm not sure what I was expecting and of course it was an exercise in complete vanity. Since I spend most of my life being the opposite of vain, I embraced the opportunity to feel conceit. I now know that if I am ever wandering around downtown Boston in all my Instagram-black-and-white-glory posed sideways in black lingerie, more than a few guys would take me home for the night. That feels kinda good.
I will be the first to admit that my self-worth is intricately tied to what others feel about me. Especially the people I care about. I don't give a shit how self-defeating, unpopular, or anti-feminist that is. It's how I feel. If the person I'm with doesn't tell me I'm pretty, then I am definitely not pretty. The irony is that when my girlfriends tell me I'm pretty, I am thankful for the compliments but it does absolutely nothing to change how shitty I feel about myself. That's sad. In my head I think, "Well that's nice but you aren't going to fuck me." It is what it is.
Back to Tire Guy for a minute. He has said he found my directness and confidence to be "totally hot". Yeah, the directness that comes from having Asperger's and the manufactured text confidence were definitely good, but then, the real Melisa kicked in. I got insecure. I asked if he really thought I was sexy. His response was wise beyond his years and it was, in my opinion, the lesson I was supposed to have learned from that whole experience.
He said, "Yes, but why do you need reassurance? That's not sexy at all."
Wow.
Onward...
It's sometimes hard for people to believe that I am extremely socially awkward since my career choices clearly suggest otherwise. Being in public relations, especially in the tech industry, means that I have spent more than my fair share of time at huge conventions talking to hundreds of high-level people convincing them I know what I'm talking about. I think of this as being in "work costume" and I'm pretty sure I'm hiding behind the character that I've created. With interior design, I am also fulfilling a purpose. I'm the "designer girl" and I'm there to fix their houses. There is a mutual understanding that I know what I'm talking about and they are honoring me by letting me redesign their space.
However, my work confidence and personal confidence have remained separate. It's unfortunate because I am keenly aware that people have been attracted to me because of my confidence, which, in a twisted sort of Cinderella way, disappears the minute I am off the clock. I've been thinking a lot about what confidence means when it comes to being and/or feeling sexy. I have some very recent experience with my disappearing confidence and I am resolved not to let it happen again.
Over text and email, I am downright saucy and fearless. Who isn't? When it comes to backing up my bravado however, I have a much harder time. It's not that I don't mean the things I write, or that I don't feel the things I say I feel because I do! 100%! However, being shy and lamely insecure, if someone is inspecting my physical self, I immediately turn weird. Although it has been said to us girls many times that men do not see us as we see ourselves, I am convinced that when a man is looking at me, he is categorizing my flaws and will go home and tell his friends how gross I am. This sucks for me and it sucks for the man. My insecurities make it impossible for me to let go and enjoy the moment in its purest form.
Even with my husband, someone who apparently loved me enough to leave his country (England) and all his friends to marry me, there has never been an intimate moment where for at least a fleeting second I didn't try to turn my body another way, position myself "just so" or even find a way to drape something over the parts I hate. It's exhausting. How lame is that?! He has told me many times how pretty I am, sexy, whatever, and still, in my head, I'm sure that he's lying. Maybe I should drink more?
I do know that fully clothed, I have super hot moments. Maybe if lovemaking involved having my clothes on that would be awesome! In business, I was known for wearing ankle-length straight skirts with a slit up the back and either knee-high black leather boots or high heels. I would have on a fitted blazer or long-sleeved button down. It left a lot to the imagination but was just tight enough to show that I have a stupidly large bottom (in my opinion). The boots were very dominatrix/prison guard and the whole ensemble seemed to fulfill the teacher fantasy a lot of guys have. I rocked that look! However, peeling it all off turned me into one of those sobbing, hopeless, annoying women who think no one on earth looks more hideous than they do.
Having recently had a lot of attention paid to me (see post on Tire Guy), and having been told that I was sexy by a random stranger definitely boosted my confidence. For a minute I actually felt like maybe I have something. Maybe I could be someone's fantasy. Mind you, the whole confidence boosting exercise took place via text, but for that short period of time I had a little more sex in my walk, a little more direct eye contact was made, and I had more than one friend tell me, "See?! You have options!"
Upon showing said friends the only remaining photo of "The-thing-that-was-to-become-nothing", every single one said some version of ,"Holy shit he's HOT!" And this made me feel even better about myself, as if having a hot stranger attracted to me made me hot myself.
A while back I was in a fight with my husband and I very inappropriately said, "Well just because you don't want me doesn't mean someone else won't want me!" To which he responded,"Well they don't fucking live with you and all your shit!" He's right. Random hot strangers do not have to file their taxes with me or see me when I wake up and look saggy, squishy and worn out.
A male photographer friend of mine recently encouraged me to take a sexy picture of myself as part of an experiment on how others see me. I agreed. I was allowed to use filters and whatever else kind of witchcraft and trickery I could employ to get an image I actually thought was kinda hot. The resulting image was a black and white taken in front of my bedroom mirror in which I'm wearing black lingerie and my tattoos are looking very unexpectedly great. I sent him the photo. He printed it out and went on a little adventure around Boston showing the photo to random younger guys asking (and recording) what they thought. Not a single one said, "Wow, she's really plus size!" or "I can tell that her boobs hit the floor without a bra."
I'm not sure what I was expecting and of course it was an exercise in complete vanity. Since I spend most of my life being the opposite of vain, I embraced the opportunity to feel conceit. I now know that if I am ever wandering around downtown Boston in all my Instagram-black-and-white-glory posed sideways in black lingerie, more than a few guys would take me home for the night. That feels kinda good.
I will be the first to admit that my self-worth is intricately tied to what others feel about me. Especially the people I care about. I don't give a shit how self-defeating, unpopular, or anti-feminist that is. It's how I feel. If the person I'm with doesn't tell me I'm pretty, then I am definitely not pretty. The irony is that when my girlfriends tell me I'm pretty, I am thankful for the compliments but it does absolutely nothing to change how shitty I feel about myself. That's sad. In my head I think, "Well that's nice but you aren't going to fuck me." It is what it is.
Back to Tire Guy for a minute. He has said he found my directness and confidence to be "totally hot". Yeah, the directness that comes from having Asperger's and the manufactured text confidence were definitely good, but then, the real Melisa kicked in. I got insecure. I asked if he really thought I was sexy. His response was wise beyond his years and it was, in my opinion, the lesson I was supposed to have learned from that whole experience.
He said, "Yes, but why do you need reassurance? That's not sexy at all."
Wow.
Onward...
Friday, October 12, 2012
Every Woman Needs A Dick In Her Phone
Having been married a very long time now, I think I speak for many women when I say that the "magic" left the relationship long ago. I can't tell you the last time I got a love note, a hot and heavy voicemail, or was molested in the middle of the kitchen for no apparent reason.
I'm not saying I don't love my husband. I do. However, this doesn't change the fact that I, like most girls, thrive on compliments, admiration and good old fashioned flirting. I am not the kind of woman who wakes up and just knows that I'm a hot piece of ass. I also don't have the innate ability to stand in front of a mirror naked without detailing all the cosmetic surgery I so clearly need.
I don't think I should have to qualify this, or any other post I write by saying that no, my husband does not hear about every single shenanigan I get up to. He knows me very well, and knows that regardless of how over-the-edge I get, I will never actually jump off that cliff if you know what I mean.
Anyway, I must have been putting off extensive amounts of pheromones because men, especially younger ones, have been paying attention to me lately. I'm not sure if they always paid attention to me and I ignored it, or if they suddenly started paying attention to me. Point is, I noticed, and I'm not trying to lie and say that I don't enjoy it. Well, it depends on how cute the guy is, but for the most part I enjoy it.
I have Asperger's, and that means I have always had a very hard time filtering what I say. Sometimes I don't even bother, and other times shit just streams out of my mouth that I had no intention of sharing. I include this information to illustrate that sometimes I just say stuff that no normal married woman would say. This leads to some interesting encounters. Case in point, the Tire Guy.
My big, huge, beautiful car has big, huge tires. I bring my car to a place that I trust and one of the guys that works there is suave, super attractive and very friendly. He knows how to flirt with the ladies to get them to pay for extra services they may or may not really need. I, however, am a car girl, so I'm only paying for things I know I need. I find this brand of man very entertaining. He is good at what he does. He called me recently on my cell to tell me my car was ready so I just happened to have his phone number. When I went to get my car, I made normal small talk, asking how his fiance was, and was surprised to find out that he was no longer engaged due to some major relationship drama.
On the way home I felt bad for Tire Guy. Having lived through the exact situation that he was just beginning to live through, I thought he might appreciate some of my hard-earned wisdom. I texted him and offered to talk if he ever needed to. I got a nice reply. I sent a nice reply back. Blah blah and suddenly, I'm texting that I think he's a very attractive guy with a super sexy voice who should have no problem whatsoever finding another girl to fill his time. Um...
Later that night I get a text saying something along the lines of , "Sending you a special goodnight." Voila! There is a picture of a very impressive dick in my phone. I closed the text very quickly and although no one was in the room with me, I was totally embarrassed, and had no idea of what to do. I opened the picture again. Yes, the dick was still there. In my phone. I closed it again.
I texted a much younger girlfriend and asked her if it was normal for younger guys to send pictures of their junk via text. She said it was absolutely normal and in fact, she sends naked pics of herself to guys all the time. It's been a very long time since I've been "in the game" so I am relatively clueless about this kind of thing. She asked me if I had responded, and I said that I had no idea of how to respond. She asked if I liked it, and the convo went like this:
"Liked what? His dick picture?!"
"Yeah, was it impressive?"
"Well yeah, actually, it really was."
"Okay then send him a picture back."
"WHAT?! NO! That is not happening! Plus, I'm married!"
"Well you have to let him know you liked it. That's just rude not to respond!"
"It's rude not to respond to a dick picture?"
"Well yeah! How would you feel if you sent your penis to someone and they didn't respond?"
I had no idea of how to answer that question.
I ended up sending him a simple text that said, "Thank you!"
I know, right?!
What the fuck was I supposed to say?! I was completely shocked that I, a 40-something married lady with more than a few saggy spots and wrinkly bits, had received a picture of a very hot 20-something's very promising man-part.
He texted back, "Send me a picture of you." Which of course, I did not. He is too young to have PTSD from a picture of me. Texts went back and forth but I digress...
I started thinking about what my girlfriend said about younger guys sending pics of themselves when they're attracted to someone. I felt flattered, and a little bit wanted.
I checked out the photo a few more times. Okay, a lot more times. I went about my days and every so often I'd open the photo gallery on my phone to send photos of art, plants, or other stuff to Facebook or to design clients, and there it was in the downloads folder trying to temp me into making homemade porn.
I have asked several older guys about this apparent dating ritual and they swear that 1. They would never text a picture of their dick and 2. It seems very strange if not totally difficult to take said picture. Apparently it wasn't difficult for Tire Guy.
I mentioned the situation to my mother, (who is progressive when it comes to things like this) and she asked if the picture showed the upper or lower position, (except she used her finger to illustrate the positions for me). It was an upper. Most definitely.
Having the dick picture was a daily reminder of something that was never going to happen, but in the same sense it boosted my ego a little and gave me self-confidence I was previously lacking. I'm not sure how most women feel about man parts but I'm a big fan. Therefore, I started seeing it as a demented little love note to me that was actually kind of sweet. Tire Guy had mentioned that he thought I was sexy, and having a younger guy tell you that you're sexy isn't the worst thing that could happen on a week day.
I realized that many older girls would benefit from having a saucy dick picture sent to them. Most of us are just doing our older girl thing, picking up kids, getting toilet paper at Costco, wearing shitty sweatpants around the house...A good dick picture can really shake things up and make you put your lip gloss on! I'm not suggesting that women should be cheating on their husbands mind you. I'm suggesting that those women who miss the naked-backyard-sex antics of younger days need a little spring in their step from time to time. Not much is better than a secret dick picture in your cell phone to make a gray day a little more sparkly.
I told a few trusted girlfriends about the incident and thankfully, all were wonderfully supportive and inquisitive. Responses ranged from, "Well you are hot!" to "Please send me the picture!" I did not send the picture to anyone, and one evening, after carefully considering it, I deleted it. With difficulty.
I know.
Having experienced first hand how restorative such a picture was for me, I put on my best sexy voice and asked my husband for a picture of his dick to keep in my phone, to which he replied, "Never gonna happen."
Sigh.
I'm not saying I don't love my husband. I do. However, this doesn't change the fact that I, like most girls, thrive on compliments, admiration and good old fashioned flirting. I am not the kind of woman who wakes up and just knows that I'm a hot piece of ass. I also don't have the innate ability to stand in front of a mirror naked without detailing all the cosmetic surgery I so clearly need.
I don't think I should have to qualify this, or any other post I write by saying that no, my husband does not hear about every single shenanigan I get up to. He knows me very well, and knows that regardless of how over-the-edge I get, I will never actually jump off that cliff if you know what I mean.
Anyway, I must have been putting off extensive amounts of pheromones because men, especially younger ones, have been paying attention to me lately. I'm not sure if they always paid attention to me and I ignored it, or if they suddenly started paying attention to me. Point is, I noticed, and I'm not trying to lie and say that I don't enjoy it. Well, it depends on how cute the guy is, but for the most part I enjoy it.
I have Asperger's, and that means I have always had a very hard time filtering what I say. Sometimes I don't even bother, and other times shit just streams out of my mouth that I had no intention of sharing. I include this information to illustrate that sometimes I just say stuff that no normal married woman would say. This leads to some interesting encounters. Case in point, the Tire Guy.
My big, huge, beautiful car has big, huge tires. I bring my car to a place that I trust and one of the guys that works there is suave, super attractive and very friendly. He knows how to flirt with the ladies to get them to pay for extra services they may or may not really need. I, however, am a car girl, so I'm only paying for things I know I need. I find this brand of man very entertaining. He is good at what he does. He called me recently on my cell to tell me my car was ready so I just happened to have his phone number. When I went to get my car, I made normal small talk, asking how his fiance was, and was surprised to find out that he was no longer engaged due to some major relationship drama.
On the way home I felt bad for Tire Guy. Having lived through the exact situation that he was just beginning to live through, I thought he might appreciate some of my hard-earned wisdom. I texted him and offered to talk if he ever needed to. I got a nice reply. I sent a nice reply back. Blah blah and suddenly, I'm texting that I think he's a very attractive guy with a super sexy voice who should have no problem whatsoever finding another girl to fill his time. Um...
Later that night I get a text saying something along the lines of , "Sending you a special goodnight." Voila! There is a picture of a very impressive dick in my phone. I closed the text very quickly and although no one was in the room with me, I was totally embarrassed, and had no idea of what to do. I opened the picture again. Yes, the dick was still there. In my phone. I closed it again.
I texted a much younger girlfriend and asked her if it was normal for younger guys to send pictures of their junk via text. She said it was absolutely normal and in fact, she sends naked pics of herself to guys all the time. It's been a very long time since I've been "in the game" so I am relatively clueless about this kind of thing. She asked me if I had responded, and I said that I had no idea of how to respond. She asked if I liked it, and the convo went like this:
"Liked what? His dick picture?!"
"Yeah, was it impressive?"
"Well yeah, actually, it really was."
"Okay then send him a picture back."
"WHAT?! NO! That is not happening! Plus, I'm married!"
"Well you have to let him know you liked it. That's just rude not to respond!"
"It's rude not to respond to a dick picture?"
"Well yeah! How would you feel if you sent your penis to someone and they didn't respond?"
I had no idea of how to answer that question.
I ended up sending him a simple text that said, "Thank you!"
I know, right?!
What the fuck was I supposed to say?! I was completely shocked that I, a 40-something married lady with more than a few saggy spots and wrinkly bits, had received a picture of a very hot 20-something's very promising man-part.
He texted back, "Send me a picture of you." Which of course, I did not. He is too young to have PTSD from a picture of me. Texts went back and forth but I digress...
I started thinking about what my girlfriend said about younger guys sending pics of themselves when they're attracted to someone. I felt flattered, and a little bit wanted.
I checked out the photo a few more times. Okay, a lot more times. I went about my days and every so often I'd open the photo gallery on my phone to send photos of art, plants, or other stuff to Facebook or to design clients, and there it was in the downloads folder trying to temp me into making homemade porn.
I have asked several older guys about this apparent dating ritual and they swear that 1. They would never text a picture of their dick and 2. It seems very strange if not totally difficult to take said picture. Apparently it wasn't difficult for Tire Guy.
I mentioned the situation to my mother, (who is progressive when it comes to things like this) and she asked if the picture showed the upper or lower position, (except she used her finger to illustrate the positions for me). It was an upper. Most definitely.
Having the dick picture was a daily reminder of something that was never going to happen, but in the same sense it boosted my ego a little and gave me self-confidence I was previously lacking. I'm not sure how most women feel about man parts but I'm a big fan. Therefore, I started seeing it as a demented little love note to me that was actually kind of sweet. Tire Guy had mentioned that he thought I was sexy, and having a younger guy tell you that you're sexy isn't the worst thing that could happen on a week day.
I realized that many older girls would benefit from having a saucy dick picture sent to them. Most of us are just doing our older girl thing, picking up kids, getting toilet paper at Costco, wearing shitty sweatpants around the house...A good dick picture can really shake things up and make you put your lip gloss on! I'm not suggesting that women should be cheating on their husbands mind you. I'm suggesting that those women who miss the naked-backyard-sex antics of younger days need a little spring in their step from time to time. Not much is better than a secret dick picture in your cell phone to make a gray day a little more sparkly.
I told a few trusted girlfriends about the incident and thankfully, all were wonderfully supportive and inquisitive. Responses ranged from, "Well you are hot!" to "Please send me the picture!" I did not send the picture to anyone, and one evening, after carefully considering it, I deleted it. With difficulty.
I know.
Having experienced first hand how restorative such a picture was for me, I put on my best sexy voice and asked my husband for a picture of his dick to keep in my phone, to which he replied, "Never gonna happen."
Sigh.
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