Wednesday, January 27, 2010
1) I was in my forties the first time I went into an "adult" store. I bought this little number on my second visit.
2) I never wanted to even try to wear sexy lingerie because I thought I looked like a blobby fool.
3) I absolutely love realizing how wrong I was.
Visit Osbasso's blog for the list of more HNT loveliness.
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Picking up our story, Vince and Ivey (at Vince's suggestion) rejoin the Swinger website, pay their money (again!) and start to scan the photos and profiles.
Now I don't know about you folks that are actively looking for people to meet up with on the sites, but I feel like I'm looking for a ruby in a mountain of rocks. The fact is, most of the pics folks post absolutely fucking baffle me: crass pussy shots, VERY unattractive "action" photos, bizarre costumes from theme parties (What is this? Junior High for the over-sexed?). Or, odder still, photos of their cars, boats, motorcycles, and pets. W.T.F.
But I guess my prime objection is the extreme lack of artistry. Not every picture needs to be Annie Leibovitz, for God's sake, but at least make an effort! Weeding out the bad writers and spellers is a no brainer. If you can't string a sentence together and can't figure out why it matters, then I have no problem clicking the "delete" button and moving on. But if you seem sincere, yet the way you choose to present yourself in the world is -- damn, what's the right word? Cheap? Colorless? Thoughtless? -- unimaginative, then you are definitely NOT like me.
But, alas, the folks "like us," at least on our site, seem few and far between. Sigh.
Anyway, one day a greeting shows up in our in-box that is reasonably well written and the couple is in our desired age-range of late-30s to mid-40s. They'd opened their private album to us so we could see their faces, which we appreciated. On the downside, the woman was not photogenic AT ALL. On the very downside THE LIVE IN OUR SMALL TOWN.
Now when it comes to attractiveness, I'm pretty easy to please. As long as the guy falls within certain parameters (e.g. not too fat, not too thin, not too short, and there's no such thing as too tall for me) personality is what revs my engines. But the lady was not only unattractive to both of us but again, some of the choices were odd. In one shot, she was holding a drink, bleach-blond ringlets stuck to her face, and droopy eyes that one usually only sees only on the super-snockered.
Furthermore, I'm sure I mentioned before that Vince is a private guy. The thought that there is even a remote possibility of our would-be-swinger world and vanilla world colliding can make the man hyperventilate. To make matter worse, we are pretty well known around here and by that, I mean we're on a first name basis with the Mayor and Commissioners, every restaurant and bar owner, and pretty much all the local movers and shakers. We can't grab a cup of coffee without running into at least five to ten people we know.
This leads us to why we changed our mind about Bill and Reanne.
One morning we're grabbing breakfast at one of our local cafe's when Vince points and says, "Don't be obvious, but I think that's the guy from the website over there."
Turning around, I say "Where?"
"Jesus, Ivey, didn't I just say don't turn around?!"
"No," I reply, "you said don't be obvious which I didn't take to mean don't look in the direction you were obviously pointing."
A few tables away, it was the guy and let me tell you, the lady was transformed. She was gorgeous in person with a killer body, rich brown hair, and a fantastic laugh and smile. In person, he was still within my parameters and the fact that he was making Ms. Luscious laugh, well, that just added some points to his score.
But y'all caught that, right? Bleach-blond in the photo: brunette in person? I swear, all I thought ws "Good choice, honey. The Ms. Clairol poster-child look was definitely NOT good for you." What. An. Idiot.
So now we're all, "Maybe we were too hasty." And, "Maybe we should reconsider." And my all time favorite, "Let's hit 'em up."
Let me pause for a moment to add that this event occurred before we discovered Hubman's blog and his and Veronica's excellent "Swing Shift" series. If you're new to the idea of Swinging, you owe it to yourself to read this first. I sure as fuck wish we had.
We composed our response as a team effort. We didn't want to appear over-eager. We didn't want to give the impression that we were flakes. We further didn't want to give them the impression that we were anything other than inexperienced newbies. (I'd add that our profile makes that quite clear.) We sent the email. Within hours, Bill's response came back, pretty much addressed exclusively to me.
Again, it was fairly well-written and filled in some new information. Bill also taught me how to enter into a private chat room and I experienced my first on-line flirtation. I LOVED it. It was naughty and fun at the same time. However, not to be rude or anything, it wouldn't have mattered who the person was. I was enjoying the action, not the person. It didn't take long for red flags to start popping up on the screen.
"You are wayyyyyy cute!" Thanks. "Are you all natual?" Not sure what you mean. "Are your boobs real? I hate fake boobs." The real deal. "Yeah, I like my women ALL real ALL the way. Reanne's all natural, Except she's smooth where she should be, LOL, ya know." Okay.
Now I'm a total virgin at on-line flirty chat and I have no idea what's normal in this type of social scenario, so I don't know if he's being too much or if I'm being a prude. But other things were a bit more disconcerting. He asked multiple times what Vince and my limits were even after I told him that a) we hadn't fine-tuned that yet and b) it didn't really matter since we don't do anything on a first date anyway.
Bill: "I just want to know what I can expect."
Me: "Other than to show up, have a nice diner, then everyone go home, it would be wise to have no expectations."
I finally got to chat with Reanne ("Yeah, you girls should talk.") and she ran another red flag up the pole when she shared a story about the two of them taking a 4-day trip to a swinger's resort in the Caribbean. Apparently, Bill found a women he was crazy for but Reanne and the other husband weren't really into each other. Never-the-less, Bill spent the next 2 days with the wife and essentially ignored Reanne who had a rotten weekend. The story was offered as an example of why neither of them is willing to take one for the team. Later, I thought it was curious that the story was presented as essentially "her fault" for taking the hit rather than "his fault" for essentially being a dick to his wife.
Anyway, if Vincent and I had been more conscious, then perhaps we would have pulled the plug at this point but instead, we set a date and time to meet. After all, we'd been chatting for days, weren't we obligated to at least meet with them?
Let the cascading cluster-fuck begin.
First, they wanted to go to our local, and very popular, Irish pub. Remember the last "date" Vince and I had where our unconventional conversation gave the waiter hives and brought Vince to the brink of a heart attack? We still haven't been back there and we loved that place. I made our desire for discretion very clear to Bill.
"Oh, we are NOTHING if not DISCRETE! :)!"
Second, Vince and I arrived a little early and decided to have a drink to, ya know, calm our nerves.
After about ten minutes at the bar, they arrive. As soon as we saw them, I felt Vince wince; there was no attractive brunette. The woman who walked in looked exactly like she did in her pictures. (To be fair and accurate, it isn't that the woman is hideous, she just isn't attractive and is, in fact, unattractive to us.) We found out later that the woman at breakfast was just a jogging buddy. Well, don't I feel like the perfect fool. I tried to control my own wince-reflex and I'm sure failed miserably.
Next, Bill yelled at what seemed like the top of his lungs, "Oh my God! You are sooooo gorgeous!! You look even better in person than your web photos!!!" So much for discretion. "Wow! You're hot! Reanne, isn't she hot?"
Someone shoot me in the head. Please.
There were no merciful and armed patrons to fulfill my wish so instead we found a pretty good table in an out-of-the-way alcove. We sat around the table -- Vince and I next to each other, Bill across from me and Reanne directly opposite Vince -- and immediately ordered a couple of bottles of wine and some food. And then a round of beers.
We soon discovered that Reanne is a vegan, which made their suggestion of an Irish pub kinda odd. There's nothing that even resembles vegan fare on the menu. Why would you choose a restaurant where pretty much every dish includes a side of corned beef? It appears that it gives her something to bitch about -- the quality of the food in particular and the culinary habits of the South in general. Sepaking of, we soon discovreed, through Reanne's elocution, that pretty much every goddmn thing ever concieved of is better "up North."
Ladies and gentlemen, I am a Southerner to my core (as evidenced by my thick accent which gets thicker with booze), which means I can politely smile in your face and nod my head while you say pretty much any damn thing. I can be gracious even when someone is thoughtlessly insulting my kin, clan, culture, and cuisine. However, I'm also well traveled and smart enough to know that there are, from time to time and place to place, stupid people, bad food, and inclement weather pretty much everywhere.
I turned my attention to the less offensive conversation from Bill and abandoned my northern born husband to Reanne's constant litany of complaints. Bill, on the other hand, is nothing if not complimentary. "Wow, you're smart AND beautiful." What? Are they mutually exclusive? "Vince is a lucky, lucky man. I hope to be so lucky." I think he meant that as a compliment to me and not an insult to Reanne. We're all now on our fourth or fifth round of drinks.
Suddenly, across the pub, in walks a colleague of mine.
"Ricky!" Vince yells across the crowded room. I thought he was about to add "for the love of God, man, save me!" but instead he waved him over. It turns out Ricky was meeting up with some more mutual friends and was also a bit early. "Well then, join us!"
Oh. My. God. I'm wondering exactly how this new develoment is supposed to help the situation but I'm now three sheets to the wind and not thinking too clearly. So, Ricky plops himself in a chair at the head of the table and orders a pint. Rounding out the party, we've got enthusiastic-eager-beaver Bill, bleach-blond and bitchy Reanne, what-the-fuck-have-I-done-to-deserve-this Vincent, and oh-my-god-I-can't-believe-we're-actually-here Ivey.
And it's about to get worse.
The conversation goes on. We introduce Ricky around and now we're talking about why he's here, who he's meeting, and what they're doing. Vincent and I both feel a wave of relief as the conversation returns to something less irritating to me ("They don't know how to cook in the South 'cause these people don't know how to eat in the South!) and less indiscrete to Vince ("Fucking other people is really a great hobby. Hey, who wants to keep all this greatness to themselves, am I right?")
Suddenly, under the table, I feel Bill's naked foot sliding up and down my leg. Offered as an explation, but not as an excuse, I was shit-faced. I remember thinking both "wow, that feels good" and "damn, that's annoying" but it never occured to me to MOVE MY LEGS.
Next, after a vat and a half of vino, Vincent's bladder and patience can bear it no longer and he gets up to go to the men's room. The moment the door closed, Bill leapt from his seat and came around and sat in Vince's chair. Finally, some presence of mind returned:
Me: "If Vince comes back and you're in his chair, he won't be happy."
Bill: laughing, "Come on, he's fine."
Me: "I mean it. This won't be cool."
Bill: befuddled, "Seriously?"
Me: "As a heart attack."
This went back and forth a few more times until, as Vincent approached the table, Bill got up, pickle-pussed and pouty-faced, and returned to his side of the table and immediately resumed the footsie thing.
Me: to Vince, "You ready to go?"
Vince: "Yep. Check please!"
We said goodbye to Reanne and Bill in the parking lot and recklessly drove our drunken asses' home, about ten minutes away.
With very poor timing, I told Vince about the footsie.
"And you didn't stop him?! Jesus, Ivey! What the fuck?"
Vince is pissed, not jealous, because from his point of view the chair and footsie thing showed a total lack of respect. He feels that Bill should have somehow overtly gotten the go-ahead from hime before Bill took the liberty of a) touching his wife or b) changing seats. I feel like and ass about the footsie thing because I realize it gave Bill a mixed signal but I'm still confused at the seat thing because I thought nothing went forward until the wives gave the mutual okay.
Surprisingly, we make it home safe and sound and decide to call it a night. We're not mad at each other but realize that we made way too many mistakes and don't feel like working through them in our state. We check email one last time and there's this:
Bill: "Call us! :)!"
We went to bed.
the next afternoon, after chatting through the events of the previous evening, we decided not only were we not going forward with this couple, but we also needed to regroup again. I sent the following email:
"Thanks for an interseting and lively evening! We talked it over and while we certainly had some fun moments last night, we aren't ready to move forward at this point. Too much unresolved "drama" on our end. :) Thanks for joining us on this short leg of our journey and we wish you both the best. Warmest regards -- Ivey and Vincent"
Within hours, the emails started. "What did we do? Call us." "We thought it went so well. Didn't you have fun?" "We are very confused. We need to talk."
This went on for several days until finally, one day I was on our site and Bill IM'd me. Vince was in the room and we decided I should answer.
Me: Ivey here.
Bill: So what happened?
Me: We just didn't feel it was a good four-way fit.
Bill: Was that your idea or Vince's?
Me: Not going there. LOL
Bill: Just wondering who pulled the plug.
Me: That's between me and the Hubs.
Bill: Well, we kinda felt the same.
Me: For us, learning to give and accept "thanks but no thanks" is part of the learning process that we're still going through.
Me: I'm sorry if I'm doing this poorly. Didn't mean to hurt anyone's feelings.
Bill: OK. See you around. Bye.
A few days later, we did see them again in our little town. Reanne and my eyes met but neither of us acknowledge the moment and just kept going where we were going.
And there ends the tale of Bill and Reanne.
Vincent and I made a ton of mistakes as well as did a few things right -- we at least made it home alone and together! Some of the lessons learned include:
- If your gut tells you something is wrong or your'e not attracted, go with it. Don't try to talk youself or your spouse out of the initial reaction.
- Expect people to look like their photo (or worse) beacuse folks don't suddenly become better looking.
- Have a "get me the fuck out of here code word and a plan for how to do it!
- Too much alcohol NEVER improves the situation. (In my case, I've decided to go completely alcohol free on first dates, Meet and Greets, and clubs.)
- We don't owe anybody anything. We want to be polite and kind, but when it's time to pull the plug, just fuckin' pull it.
For you more experienced folks out there, we also still have a couple of unresolved questions and would appreciate getting your opinion:
- Vince want's to know if he's right about the protocol and was Bill out of line. Should Bill have, in essence, gotten Vince's permission to touch my leg or change seats? (Vince also want's you to know he's Itailian and wondering if he's over-reacting to the "respect" issue.)
- I'm wondering if I'm right about the wives talking to each other and the husbands looking to us for guidance BEFORE anyone get's all touchy-feely. How does that type of communication, between the couples, generally take place?
Tune in next time for Our First Meet and Greet: or OMG, a hot chick is FINALLY touching Ivey's boobs!
Monday, January 25, 2010
The anticipated and promised Bill and Reanne: or how to do almost every-fucking-thing wrong post, has been delayed due to unbe-fuckin'-leivable reasons beyond my control.
I wrote it today. It was, in my humble opinion, a fine piece of prose. Then, when I hit publish, I got an error message from Blogger and it is, quite frankly, gone. I'm going to try to write the story again over the week but today I happened to have a few hours to devote to it (it's a bit long, but seriously, a train-wreck like this event should not be short-changed) and I'll try to redo it this week.
In the meantime, please stay tuned.
FYI - This was the last straw for me with Blogger. I'm switching to Wordpress and will transfer stuff as soon as I can. If you've sent me an email or commented on a post, I'll send out a notification with the new URL when it's up.
Okay, now it's back to my Bud Light, deep fuckin' breathing, and Daily Show re-runs while I continue to come down from my technology induced rage.
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
1) Though my body and I have had our issues, I've always been quite fond of my gams.
2) When m'legs started losing their shape, I got serious about 'teh excercise'. These babies can press over 300 lbs and look good doin' it!
3) After the feel of them gripping his torso or draped over his neck, the red shoes are one of Vince's favorite things.
Thursday, January 14, 2010
1 -- From the time I was first self aware I have hated my body. I've been ashamed, embarrassed, and fearful coupled with ridiculed, belittled, and bedeviled.
2 -- This past year, I made peace with my body-image. This doesn't mean I'm happy with it.
3 -- The first naked photo of me EVER (not counting baby pics) was taken in May of '09 at the age of 43.
4 -- I can count on one hand the number of bathing suit photos of me taken between childhood and my mid-forties.
So, without further ado -- Ivey Lane: Behind the Blinds.
Monday, January 11, 2010
Seriously, who the fuck are these people?
Saturday, January 9, 2010
So we left our heroine, Ivey, at the spa with Rick and Leah. My previous triumph over my poor body-image issues means I can now have conversations with men and not worry that they think I'm unattractive and have conversations with women and not be envious of their perceived superior beauty. What a fuckin' miracle!
And Rick is definitely my type: an educated southern boy. Early forties, tall with an average but sexy build, quick to laugh, not shy, well-read, an engineer. Leah is mid-forties, soft and feminine, sweet smile, warm humor, lovely figure, quiet but a good conversationalist when she wants to jump in, an accountant. And I am completely ignorant about the rules, etiquette, or anything else to do with Swingers but I am intrigued, curious, and more than a little bit turned on.
Meanwhile, Vincent's up north havin' a ball, learning about his new hobby, and generally oblivious to what is goin' on in his Ivey's mind. Which is a big clue; lack of communication between Ivey and Vinnie.
Most of my sexual transformation took place in my head and then in the bedroom without much discussion. So for Vinnie, one day we weren't having sex, the next we were; and he never really questioned it. He also never questioned the 6 years in the desert either. He never complained. I never told him how much it bothered me -- both the fact that I had no sex drive and that he didn't seem to mind. To me, his lack of complaint just reinforced that I was fat, ugly, and undesirable. At the same time, had he complained or had the affair I was afraid/hoping would happen, our marriage would not have survived.
It was a vicious catch-22.
So after some playful but very tame banter at the spa, Rick and Leah suggest the four of us meet for dinner or drinks. Mistake #1 -- I have no idea that this could or should be considered "a date." To me, it's an opportunity to get together and talk to people who know more about sex and sexual adventure than I do and seem open to sharing. I have no idea what possibilities or fantasies go through my new Friend's minds or how I my ignorance could possibly contribute to confusion.
But first, I've got to bring the subject up to Vinnie, who, uh, has no fuckin' idea that I've have, ever would have, or ever have had any kind of hankerin' for sexual, ahem, adventure.
So on the phone, before he comes home, I mention this "great couple" I met at the spa. "How nice," he replies. The next day I casually drop the phrase, "I think they may be Swingers." Mistake #2 -- don't start off this kind of conversation with a half truth. "Whuat?" he replies. "But they seem like REALLY nice people, "I say.
He's very uncomfortable with the idea to say the least. But he loves me. He trusts me. "I'd just like too get to know them. That's all." I say. LIAR! He agrees to meet them for dinner, ya know, just to get to know them. They are, after all, nice people.
Rick and I email and set a date and a place for the following week. Meanwhile, I keep dropping hints. One day, while having our afternoon coffee I lightly toss out "Have you ever thought of me with another woman?" "Whuat?!"
From there I go on to tell him that ever since I was in college, I've wondered what it would be like to have sex with a woman. It's one of my "most disturbing" fantasies and yes, I think about it regularly. Disturbing because for two decades I've been convinced I was going to hell for it, wondered why I was so fascinated with it even knowing I'm an absolute heterosexual. I'd wondered for a while during our "dry spell" if it meant maybe I was really a lesbian and now I thought maybe I'd ruined both of our lives. I told him that I was curious and before I die, I really just want to know what that feels like.
He was fuckin' floored to say the least. Interested, but not excited, because he'd never harbored any fantasies about me and another woman because he knew that I wouldn't like it. In less than 48 hours I turned his world on it's head.
Oh, and I really didn't mention how attracted I was to Rick or he to me. Well, I said he was cute, but hey, this is just for dinner. And to be honest, I thought Leah was very attractive but at this point (and still today, truth be told) I have no idea if I'm actually going to like it. Ya know, havin' sex with a girl. What if I squick out? Anyway....
We meet for dinner at one of our favorite and poorly thought out restaurants. Mistake #3 -- If you're planning to talk about unconventional things, don't pick a crowded, loud, restaurant where you have to shout to be heard. Oh. My. God.
Vincent is not quite a basket-case and holding it together pretty well considering that a strange man is calmly discussing the finer points of licking, sucking, and fucking all the while referring to his wife (Me), winking (at Vince), and very calmly and nicely explaining that swinging "isn't for everyone. Some folks light a fire; other burn the house down." Add to that the idea that his wife (Me) is sitting there obviously panting over another man with a "please, please, pleeeezzzze can I have 'im" look on her face.
Overall dinner is nice however the waiter was completely freaked. He essentially threw the check at us and disappeared. Afterwords we all go for a walk in a local park and talk about non-sex stuff -- movies, books, etc. Vince is reeling but I don't realize it.
Rick and Leah are indeed, wonderful people. They say to both of us "Hey, no pressure. We know you're knew at this. Enjoy the ride. Call us if you have any questions or need anything. I also found out later that while Leah and I were in the Ladies room Vince said to Rick, "you don't understand, I can't be the guy that tells Ivey 'no'. I just can't man."
We both hug Leah. Vince shakes Rick's hand. And I give Rick a kiss goodnight. Wow. Sparks, chemistry, just a lot of sex in the air. I have no idea but I haven't had that type of a "first kiss" jolt in a long fucking time. It took me by surprise and I seriously wanted more. It raised the hair on the back of Vince's neck and he wanted to get the fuck out of there.
It was a crazy night. But here's the crazier thing -- since then, Vince and I started to have sex on average six or more times a week. Hot, smokin', more creative, more passionate, more totally into each other, more loving, more fucking, just more sex than I thought was physically possible.
But as always, things aren't that fuckin' easy.....
Mistake #5 -- Don't assume that "conventional wisdom" about men is true about your man. Guys, if your wife said, "hey, I want you to have sex with another woman" would you be thrilled? Or scared? I just assumed that my husband would jump at the chance to have sex with other women and I was wrong. What's worse, I started to commit one of the cardinal sins of swinging -- I got pushy.
By God, I'd missed out on the sexual freedom and adventure I should have had while I was young. I'd suffered through more than my share of guilt and angst. I reasoned, I presented all of the pros, I researched, and we talked. Oh, my, God did we talk. We'd never talked like this before. Raw, bare, and naked. We joined a Swinger site that Rick recommended. We made a profile.
But Vince was becoming more and more miserable. He wanted me to be happy but he'd endured years, YEARS, of sexual denial and frustration and now that it was finally turning around it hurt him to the core to think that he wasn't enough for his beloved Ivey. It was one thing for me to be curious about women, that was something he physically couldn't provide, but it was something all together different to learn that your wife has sexual yearnings so far outside of the traditional mainstream. And my Vincent is nothing if not a traditional -- hardworking, respectful, loving, honorable -- kind of guy. The night I realized that, we pulled the plug, erased our profile, and went back to the drawing board.
We finally get something right -- Communication is King.
But we went back with this new found and amazing communication that we'd never had before. Also, a spark of desire and possibilities had been lit for both of us. Now we just had to get on the same page.
I had to starting thinking about what was right for us as opposed to just Ivey. And strangely enough, Vince had to start thinking about what he wanted, as opposed to what I wanted.
To be continued.....
Thursday, January 7, 2010
This particular weekend, I'd shipped Vincent, my uber-fantastic and ridiculously loved husband of more than a decade off to a seminar up north. He's been wanting to take a class that related to a new hobby of his and, being a bit of a work-aholic, he wouldn't sign himself up. So, fabulous wife that I am, I signed him up, signed the check, and put his happy ass on a jet plane.
So, husband up north, wife down south. Cutsey-pie phone calls back and forth Miss you! No, miss you!! Nooo, miss you more!! You get the idea. We love each other. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Terrific friends, fantastic business partners, and lovers though the latter hasn't always been the case. We got married when I was 32 and he was 35 and for about 6 of our 11-year marriage, it was almost sexless. Maybe once a month. I swear there was a couple of years that it may have been once every other month. One year, I swear we had sex three times. I remember. It sucked. And it was my fault.
Before I met Vinnie in '95 I was just coming off of a 2-year self imposed celibacy situation. My last boyfriend before that was the proof that I fundamentally flawed, unlovable, with piss-poor taste in men. I used the two years to get some counseling, work on some self-reliance, and learn to stop trying to get men to love me to make up for the fact that I couldn't love myself. And for the most part, it worked.
When Vinnie and I first got together, we fucked like bunnies. I couldn't get enough of the guy and vice versa. We both fell madly in love. He's Italian, with dark hair and blue/green eyes. He is warm, funny, smart, sweet, and loves me very much. He plays guitar in a rock band. Oh my God, I've died and gone to heaven, I thought. I thought other things too but I'll talk about those in other posts.
Back to married life. The first couple of years were sort of OK but then things changed, and fast. I didn't know what the fuck was wrong with me. No sex drive. Nada. Niente. When we did have sex it was usually because I just felt sooooo guilty. But I hated to be touched. I was embarrassed by what I thought was my huge fatness (for the most part, I wasn't fat), I was wracked with leftover fundamentalist Christian guilt (sex is dirty, if you have sex before marriage YOU are dirty, wives must have sex because God says so.... but it's really, really dirty). Vinnie never complained. And he never had an affair even though their were times when I wished he would, if for no other reason than to alleviate my guilt and punish my "selfishness."
To make matters worse, about three years into my marriage, as I got into my mid/late-30s, my hormones went INSANE and my brain went with 'em. I would have rages, face scarring acne (my late 30's for Christ's sake!), hair loss, constant fatigue, and worst of all, weight gain. At the time I worked in entertainment and being fat was a career ender. Again, Vinnie was practically perfect. He tried to help. He was patient beyond reason. He endured sobbing, self-loathing melt downs. He faced a psycho raging woman who he didn't recognize. He held me every night and cuddled me to sleep, reassuring me, telling me he was happy and that he loved me.
Nobody, and I mean NOBODY, knew or knows about any of this. Nobody would've guessed by looking at me or at us that sex was a problem. To the outside world we were the perfect couple -- totally in love, creatively challenged, financially stable while growing our business. And all of that was completely true but....
There was this "sex" problem.
And a few of years ago, I decided to literally get the fuck over it.
It took lots of hard work on my part and more than that of determination and courage, but over it I got... with a vengeance.
As I turned 41 we went from having sex once a month to once or twice a week or more. We expanded our repertoire of sexual positions beyond basic missionary. I rediscovered my ability and enjoyment of blow jobs. I went to my first "sex toy" home party given by a friend of mine. Of course, I bought books -- positions and "how-to's".
I "decided" to stop waiting to enjoy my body and to stop withholding it from my husband because I thought it was repulsive. He didn't think I was ugly, in fact, he thought I was pretty damn pretty. And he told me so. At the age of 42, I bought my first sex toy -- online, of course -- a vibrator. I learned to ask Vinnie to try new things. (I found out later that all this, though welcomed and wonderful, was tougher for Vincent than he let on, but again, I'll post about that another time.)
That same magical year, I finally made peace with my body weight. I'd left the church philosophically years ago but I finally recognized then jettisoned garbage that had been left in my head. And when I finally did those two things, the lid blew off.
Back to the spa....
So with my newly awakened sexuality and confidence, my newly rejuvenated marriage, and my growing desire to stop missing out on life, experiences, and adventures, I met two people who changed my and Vincent's lives -- Rick and Leah.
Through the course of our day, hangin' by the pool, sharing lunch, conversing, I discovered that Rick and Leah, happily married for 26 years, roughly Vinnie and my age, were Swingers. And they thought I was totally hot.
To be continued......