Catching up is hard to do

Finally! A Saturday morning to leisurely peruse my favorite blogs, comment here and there, linger over some sexy, sexy, OMG so fucking sexy HNT photos and generally indulge my wandering mind. It's still quite eventful around here so rather than my usual singular long tale I'm going to steal an idea from my girl Emmy and just go for the bullets.


In random order:

• Health update. I may have mentioned previously that the docs have ruled out the big scaries (MS, Lupus, etc.) and right now the smart money appears to be on -- you guessed it! -- Fybrobyalgia. The pains still come and go with maddening regularity and frustrating unpredictability. Left foot today? Right arm tomorrow? Hands? Neck? WTF. But because this particular ailment is diagnosed by elimination of other maladies I'll be having a few more tests done to rule out a few other slightly more unlikely possibilities like arthritis or other inflammatory disease. One thing I have noticed through keeping a log is that stress and tension seems to precipitate an episode. But I'm no yoga/meditation girl. I like to fight so getting back to karate is a MUST. Vince agrees with this statement whole-heartedly!


• Speaking of stress, I've had a wonderfully stressful week. I'm usually hesitant to talk about this particular thing because it is so identifying but as I said a few posts ago, I just gotta be me! I opened a play on Thursday. Some of you know I used to make my living as an actor but I haven't been on-stage in a legitimate play since before I got married. The emotions of this have been thrilling and terrifying. Have I still "got it?" Will I remember my lines? OMG what if I go up? (FYI -- "go up" is what happens when you're on stage and suddenly your mind goes abso-fuckin'-lutely blank. Ya got nuthin'. Nuthin' at all to say and everyone I do mean everyone is staring at you and nothing is coming back. It's an awful feeling, to say the least.) But the show opened and yours truly was mentioned in a very positive light. The audience response too has been wonderful. But my friend's in the theater community have been the best. These are people who know good work and their comments have been nothing short of inspiring.


• The play itself is quite a complicated piece, emotionally and politically. Without going into too much detail, it is about Iraqi women. The research alone has been enraging and gut churning, but to go on stage night after night and rip your soul apart conveying a sense of loss and rage so deep that only the coldest of the cold could dismiss is exhausting. And my beloved Vince, not wanting to spoil the play for himself, wanted me to not tell him too much about it. So for the past few weeks I've been a bit, ahem, troubled. Gender, religion, war, death, justice, injustice and just what the fuck do you do about it? Anyway. Too much to go into here. Too, too much.


• We had a "date"! :) Last Saturday evening we finally met up with a couple that I've mentioned before that we found through our swinger website. Since we've learned our lesson about just meeting someone for the first time at a restaurant or bar we invited them to come catch a set at the club where Vince's band was playing. On the upside, it makes it easier since we're going to be there anyway. On the downside, since Vince is technically working he only has a few minutes between sets to see if he likes these people or not and he doesn't get to know them well, just a first impression. We also have to be VERY discrete since his co-workers are around and we really want to keep these worlds separate. We'll probably see them again after my play closes. She was cute 'n sexy and he was my kind of good lookin'. I don't know what it is about the sandy-haired white boys but I do think they are hot, hot, hot! In addition they were both very funny and certainly seemed to like us. Anyway, it was a real informal meet and greet type thing but it went well and we can see some potential for "something" happening here. :)


• Just what that something is though, is TBD. Now ya'll know me, I'm a "oh hell yeah, let's get it ON" kinda gal. Vince, is still my much more reserved and dignified loving partner. We want to meet them again over a game of pool or something where we can actually talk and Vince can get to know them a little bit. If that goes well, what we're probably going to do is see if these folks are interested in taking things kind of slow with us. Possibly some GG and same room and maybe a little soft swap only if everything is going well. They may not be and that's a problem. They've been in the Lifestyle 10 years and were actually swingers before they got married. It is simply a part of their lives. On the Lane it's still all new and can be a bit intimidating. Anywhooo.... it certainly could be real fun if we can just get out of our own way.


• I have a love/hate relationship now when it comes to reading the real-life exploits of people I've grown to know through their blogs. Part of me lives vicariously; enjoying not only the events but the way they choose to express in writing the visceral sensations of sex, the ideas explored, the fantasies made flesh, the inner desires satisfied or at the very least, experienced. The other part of me is green, green, GREEN with envy. Envious Ivey. That's me. See, I am blessed with a staggering imagination, one so gripping I can actually feel the sensations and emotions that I conjure up to match the narrative. I don't know if it's a talent that makes me a good actor or if because I'm an actor I've developed that skill but either way, when I read your stories I get a physical jolt out of them. I always thought everyone was the same way.


• So, though I am thoroughly satisfied and happy with Vince and my sex life together, I do have fantasies that I'd like to fulfill that cannot be accomplished without the involvement of other people -- female people, male people. People who share my interest in exploring the wider range of their sexuality. I have had fantasies of group sex, lesbian sex, multi-male sex, light bondage and slightly sub/dom sex, since I can remember fantasizing about sex. All I need is a reasonably attractive, nice partner(s) who share the same desire.


• Vincent is actually the opposite. Part of what we've discovered on this journey of mutual exploration -- and probably the most surprising thing to me -- is that he simply has never had these types of out of the norm sexual fantasies. The thought of him with two women? Never crossed his mind till I suggested it. Group sex? Not on his radar and still a surreal idea. Mild nor wild bondage? Nope. Role play? Nada. It's not that he's turned off by any of this; he was simply never been turned on. He doesn't have these types of fantasies, his curiosity isn't driven that direction. At all. So, in our foray into the world of swinging (god, we hate that term), what we've discovered is that I am simply revealing a part of myself that has always been there but that I've repressed -- an experience seeking sexual adventurer. Vincent is searching for or trying to develop something that he's never considered or been. Two people, one path, VERY different journeys.

So, ladies and gents of the blogosphere, that's where my head's been lately. That and enjoying reading your posts, finding a few friends along the way, visiting your lives, learning about my own, figuring out how to build the life I'm want without burning down the one I have.

Forward, forward I say! Not one step back.

HNT -- A matter of taste

Happy HNT everyone!

As most of you already know, I consider my entry into sexual exploration very new; I often refer to it as "baby steps." And like a toddler, eager to explore the world, I want to experience everything!

Right now I think I'm in a tasting phase -- I want to put everything in my mouth.


Check out the rest of the Half-Nekkid-ness over at Osbasso's place!

All the best,
Ivey

Monsters in the dark

Yes, yes, yes..... I haven't written much for a while. The thing is though, it's not that I don't have much to say. I have too much. And my carefully considered plan to have my blog as an outlet to let my "Inner Voice" run free has run into some irritating existential snags. See, some people write nice short here's-my-day notes and move on. They write to announce something or maybe share a cool observation or a little rant. I write to organize and focus a chaotic and ignorant mind.
So here's the thing, dear readers, I have to write this shit down. I just do. If I don't, my life spirals into deeper chaos and confusion. But writing more plainly and fully has risks -- exposure, well intentioned but unwelcome advice, surface sympathy or worse, an absence sympathy.

Okay. Here goes. The reason I haven't been writing much lately is because there is something wrong with me, something not good. A few months ago I started experiencing strange pains. At first, the pain seemed to be confined to my knees; and that sucked but it was certainly understandable. I ride a bike, work out, take karate, etc. An injury every now and again in a 43 year old female body is to be expected. Right?

But soon it became apparent (after trips to the doc, X-rays, etc.) that there was no injury; just pain. Debilitating pain. Unable to fuckin' walk pain. When I could, I'd ride my bike but karate was out and I thought the poor equipment at my new gym was partially to blame so I quit lifting. So I self-medicated with wraps and braces and Tylenol and Advil.

Let me talk about the doc for a second too. After the tests revealed nothing, the doc immediately told me that my problem was "lack of strength." I refer you to two paragraphs above. I may not be thin, but I'm one strong, fit woman. Yet Dr. Dickwad didn't believe me. With a patronizing pat on the head he said -- and I'm not making this shit up -- "well, maybe you think you're working out hard or correctly, but your probably not." And with that handed me a sheet with leg exercises requiring two pound dumbbells (I do squats with 20s and 35s in each hand), leg presses with 50 pounds (my current leg press is around 230), and leg extensions with 15 (I do 125.)

I also regularly do 100 roundhouse kicks, per leg, followed by 100 jumping jacks, followed by three 2-minute rounds of sparing under the watchful eye of a damn near perfect sensei.

Asshole.

But I digress. About two months ago, the pain changed. It was no longer in my knees, it is now a weird, random pain that strikes my extremities in no particular order and can be absolutely paralyzing. One day, I was unable to lift my right arm. Another, my hands were in such pain I couldn't hold a pencil, type, or even undress myself, Vince had to do it for me. Sometimes it's my feet which hurt so bad I can barely stand. Another day, it will be a pain in my neck so bad I cannot turn my head left or right. Sometimes, it's just a finger but I'm unable to move it without excruciating pain.

And it comes and goes almost instantly. Thursday of last week, I woke up and my right leg was in severe pain every time I moved; I could barely walk and my husband had to help me up and down stairs. By 4 o'clock, it vanished. Yesterday my left arm was no longer functioning by the time I went to bed and I was unable to sleep because every time I moved, it woke me up.

And then I'll have a couple of days where everything feels normal. Then.... wham! Whatever could be causing this?

Let me tell ya folks, the Internet ain't your fuckin' friend in these circumstances. These symptoms fit the following: MS, Addison's Disease, Lupus, Lime Disease, brain tumor, brain cancer, and that's just a few of the jolly notions floating around.

I'm not one to assign a cause without evidence but getting the "evidence" for a diagnosis opens up a whole other ball of wax -- our fucking health care and insurance system, and I use the term system sarcastically.

Vince and I have private health insurance which is not only expensive it also carries very high deductibles. $3000 each, plus 50% on the next $5500 per year which means that before our insurance -- whose premiums have increased fuckin' 40% per year -- pays a fuckin' dime we pay out of pocket $5250 per year, per person. fNo office visit co-pays, just the bill -- which may show up months, if not years later with a note saying "you failed to pay XX amount at the time of service so you now owe us..... blah, blah, blah." Anyway, chasing down a mystery pain is crazy expensive.

If that wasn't enough, even though we have a plan that doesn't require a referral from a primary care physician, no specialist will make an appointment without a preliminary diagnosis from our PCP because they don't want to "waste their time." That means we have to pay for 3 or 4 visits with a doctor who isn't equipped to deal with this problem, with the subsequent delays that causes, before I can even try to get an appointment with a specialist.

Assholes.

Anyway, all of this is offered in a small way to explain why I haven't been writing or commenting much lately. Needless to say, there hasn't been much "sexy, swinging stuff" going on, and the fact that people STILL don't respond to email is another post for another time. Also, I'm having a hard time getting into the conversations, I just feel like I don't have much to add.

And finally, I'm scared shitless. Seriously. This isn't right and it's not "nothing." It's something and we have no idea what other than the potential physical disasters I mentioned earlier.

I've told almost no one about this; certainly none of my real life friends and almost none of my family. It's not because I'm protecting them from worry. I'm protecting myself from their dumb-ass speculation, nagging, and criticism regarding what I've done to precipitate this.

"Oh, Ivey, they can't be that bad. Tell them. They may surprise you! {{hugs}}" Oh, STFU. I know 'em a little better than you and they are all, to a man and woman, nothing if not predictable in their schadenfreude. I, sadly, remain mystified at what it must be like to have a family that actually enjoys and supports one another. Mine does not. End of story.

I'm heading out in about an hour to my next doctors appointment. The latest round of lab work came back "normal" so the good news is that it's nothing that could be discovered via blood tests (rule out diabetes) but it's bad news in that it's nothing that could be ruled out via blood tests. I think the next round they are going to start looking at my brain (cha-ching!!) for turmors or cancer and possibly lymphatic system (Bring on da' MS, bring on da' lupus!).

Meanwhile, Vince and I have clients that need and have purchased our attention, new clients that we need to find, and the general activities that support our lifestyle. We're trying to make new friends while keeping this little 'secret' from them. I am also doing a play. Returning to the stage in a challenging, emotionally wrenching piece. Yesterday I told the director about my little problem because it became clear that I was physically unable to do the blocking and, unless I was prepared for him to start suspecting I was an abused wife, he needed to know why. Fortunately (?) my character is a survivor of the Amiriyya Bomb Shelter tragedy of the second Gulf War so physical infirmity works for the character.

But it doesn't work for me. Not at all. I just read back through the post and see my signature brazen, bullish, somewhat comic writing style coming through. Don't be fooled. I'm scared. I'm confused. I'm unable to exercise with purpose and getting fat again. I experience bouts of fatigue that mimic depression. I am unable to focus. I feel stuck. I feel fake hiding my situation but I feel too vulnerable to talk about it, as if giving it a voice gives it more reality, more certainty.

Maybe it is just Lime Disease? Maybe. All the other maybes are monsters in the darkness and I can't find the fucking light switch.

HNT -- Clean

Happy HNT everyone! It seems I've developed the habit lately of being a bit late to every party. Oh well. I've got a few reasons; some good ones I can't talk about here 'cause of the annonymity issue, some not-so-good that I don't want to get into here well, just 'cause I don't. (Nothing to do with Vince.)

But the thing is, writing helps me clear my mind, focus, and in a way, clean my soul. To me, writing everyday is like taking a shower -- only it washes the gunk from my mind instead of my body -- and leaves me feeling fresh and renewed; ready to take on the challenges of the new day.

When I don't write, I just don't feel clean.

Check out the rest of the Half-Nekkid happenings over at O's!

Ivey

Remembering Memorial Day

Yesterday morning I wrote a fantastic post about hierarchy and the places people occupy in my life, how they fit, how they move up and down, and how they fall in and out of favor. It was witty, warm, and if I do say so myself, a little insightful. It had a little military comparison and kinda liked the flow it gave into the holiday weekend.

Then fuckin' Blogger ate it.

And today is Memorial Day and I refuse to write about hierarchy or swinging or sex or irritations or minor victories or defeats (because really, they are minor) or anything else other than the military and service.

One of the downsides of this sort of anonymity is that none of you know the vanilla side of my life (oh who the fuck am I kidding, I'm pretty much plain fuckin' vanilla every freakin' day) but I have a thing for the military. No, not a sexual fetish, but an awe, love and respect for any man or woman who volunteers to put their life up for grabs. Our military, any military really, serves one purpose, to fight an enemy, to the death whenever necessary.

For those of you who watch PBS' The News Hour, every day at the end of the broadcast, they scroll the names and photos of fallen soldiers, in silence, across the screen. Young privates, older sergeants, officers and enlisted -- all sons and daughters, some husbands, fathers, mothers and wives. Watching that day after day makes every day Memorial Day for me.

I have another friend who logs WWII veterans into the National Memorial. A veteran himself, he is tireless in his task and often posts interesting stories up on Facebook. He also introduced me to the website http://icasualties.org/ which lists the names and details of every US Military death in Iraq and Afghanistan, as well as lists of civilian causalities.

Growing up in rural, shit-kickin' cow-country most-- in fact I'd say many -- of my friends from high school joined the military and, through Facebook. I've been able to reconnect with a lot of them. They served all over the world in a variety of ways. One helped close down nuclear facilities, another spent much of his career in Korea, another became a military lawyer.

They all possess a quiet confidence, a dignity. They all appear to have an appreciation for life and people. In fact, maybe it's just the folks who reconnected with me, but they all also have a pretty nuanced compassion for mankind combined with a pretty pragmatic approach to day to day life. My family members who served were the same way -- from those who served in WWII all they way to today.

I don't envy them and I don't think that military service is the only way to achieve these qualities, but I do think it speaks to the results of serving. I think these qualities are what you earn when you survive, when you get to come home to your loved ones, when you are not a fallen hero.

I would like to think that I would have done well in the military but most people don't think that's the case. They say I wouldn't have handled the "authority" and certainly in my younger days I don't think I could argue their point. To say that I've been insubordinate would be an understatement. The fact is, I was fired from or quit abruptly almost every job I've ever had. It's one of the main reasons I'm an entrepreneur.

But I like to think I would have had the courage; that I possessed the discipline. I would like to think that I would have had the strength of character needed to be loyal to my fellow soldiers and be willing to sacrifice for them. I hope I wouldn't have whined too much or learned quickly to shut up about it. I think I would have served with honor, even if I lacked distinction.

My friends, both those currently serving and those who've left, all know. They accepted the challenge to serve our country, to do their part in whatever capacity they chose, to be shot at and to shoot back, to drop bombs and to run for cover. Maybe they did sign up because they needed a way out of nowhere-ville or to get money for college or because they couldn't get a job any where else. Maybe some did want the adventure and maybe they got it. But I think most men and women volunteer because they want to serve their country. Because they want to do what's right.

So on Memorial Day I remember the ones who died and the ones who serve. I also choose to remember that military service is about honor. That those who fight and die in our name have earned our respect even if, perhaps, they no longer need it. They possess a self-respect, born from experience, trial, and testing, that transcends any parade or any Facebook posting or any blog tribute or any half-assed "remembrance."

To those of you who have, are, or will serve in the US Armed Forces, from the bottom of my heart, thank you.

Lessons from a free thinking dog

I'm back!! And I'm back with warm fuzzy feelings because for the first time ever, I'm someone's favorite (not counting Vince, of course); RoaringLionofTwoFistedCool picked yours truly as a favorite blog. :))

Now I'm no sucker for random praise but some folk's opinions matter more than others and since I dig this guy and his ramblings, I'm going to participate in the award's requirements. To wit:

• Post the award on your blog somewhere
• Pass the award on to someone else
• Post a video playing your favorite instrument OR
• Post a photo of your pets OR
• Post a long post about your favorite book

Tall order.

As for passing it on, I'm going to pick my girl Julie Jezebel at This Time It's Just Julie. I learn a lot from that chick. In addition to being a fine writer, her perspective on life and love are thoughtful and, from where I'm at right now in my life, incredibly meaningful. I also had the pleasure of spending time with her last week and have been mulling over our conversation. More on that in another post. The HNT photo of me at the piano will do for the instrument though I do play the flute and in high school I played drums. But being the contrarian that I am, I'm going to combine the last two bullets.

I wouldn't say it was a life changing book, but "Merle's Door: Lesson's from a Free-Thinking Dog" by Ted Kerasote was an amazing read. Spoiler alert! Merle dies at the end. Just like all the rest of 'em -- "Tuesday's with Morrie", "Old Yeller", and the entirety of Shakespeare's plays. Okay, maybe not everybody in that last one.

But the gist of it is always the same, you can learn a lot if you pay attention and open your mind to the idea that maybe, just maybe, you don't know everything and you're not right all the fuckin' time.

Which brings me to my babies.

This photo is actually about 10 years old and both of my beloved pups are gone now. The Lassie looking guy was Percy and the mutt was Stinger.

NOTE -- for those of you who roll your eyes with disdain at the fact that I refer to my dogs as children or babies STFU. At best you are ignorantly unkind; at worst you are a mean-spirited jack-ass. Either way, if it's just too much for you to accept the idea that a person could actually be emotionally attached to dog then we wouldn't hang out in real life, so there's no need for you to hang out here. Oh, and if you actually have children of your own and still begrudge me my love for my pets, well then, fuck you.

These two dogs were different as night and day. Sting's nickname was Visa 'cause he was "everywhere you want to be." Underfoot constantly. I work from home and he was always either under my desk or at my feet. He was demanding in that he knew the food and walking schedule and you didn't deviate from it one second without him reminding you of your responsibilities. All the toys in the house were "his" and if other people or dogs came over he'd wander around, gather them all up, and put them under the coffee table. He was the defender, and I don't doubt for a second that dog would bite anyone who he thought was harming me.

Percy, on the other hand, was like a good looking movie star -- aloof, pretty, playful to the point of being reckless, and definitely the follower of the two. Being a pure-bred his herding instinct was pretty strong and he loved it when my parent's baby-sat them when we were away -- lots of cows to bark at, cats to chase, etc. And for such a beautiful dog he was all boy-boy; he wanted to be outside, the dirtier the better. He'd stand his ground with another dog, but he was shy and timid around people; only when he was backing up Sting would he bark at a person.

Stinger's favorite thing to do was ride in a car. If you happened to leave the door open, he'd jump in and not get out until you either dragged him out our drove him around the block. Percy puked every time he got in the car unless you gave him dramamine half an hour before you went anywhere, and then he'd be dopey. Stinger didn't like kids; Percy was a kid magnet. Sting's eyes would follow any conversation a group of people were having. Percy would leave the room if people came over.

And while we doted on our pups they weren't "spoiled." They didn't jump on people, nor beg from the table. They slept in dog beds -- Stinger in our room, Percy in his prefered spot downstairs. We had one couch they could get on but Percy never got on the furniture unless it was thundering and lightning and then he'd try to crawl into your lap (all 50 pounds of him) where ever you were and there was nothing you could do about it.

Stinger was definitely a free-thinker. I often watched him make decisions -- this toy or that, lie on the couch today or the floor. One special oddity was that there was a certain piece of kibble mixed up in his dog food that he didn't like and he'd spit just those shapes out. After dinner there would always be a pile of bone-shaped bits next to his empty dog bowl. He didn't eat what he didn't like.

I used to say that it was God's cruel joke that he created man's best companion with only a 10 - 14 year lifespan. Since they were both full-grown dogs when we got them we really had no idea how old they were, but we had Sting for about 12 years and Perce for about 10. Long enough to get hopelessly attached.

Stinger went first. As he aged and slowed down, we took care him. He had hip dysplasia and we gave him all the meds he needed as well as provided aqua-therapy, accupuncture (which he hated and for the second time in his life tried to bite someone, so we quit that shit), and hired a dog massage therapist, which he loved.

His personality was very intense and we decided that as long as he was "him" -- engaged, enthusiastic, demanding -- and whatever pain he was in was managed, then we'd do whatever we could for him. Then one day he stopped being him. He would no longer sleep under my desk but instead started curl up as far from me as he could get. Instead of staring us down if we were late with his food he would act disinterested even if we profered his prefered treat -- cheddar cheese. He stopped raising his head when we petted him and didn't lick our hands at all.

So one Friday night, after a particularly tough day, we made the decision it was time for him to die. The appointment was set for Monday and the vet was coming to our house so our pup could die at home. He always hated the vet's office and I couldn't bear to think he would be afraid in h is last moment on this earth.

So the morning came -- a bright, cool, clear spring day -- and at 11:00 am Vince carried him outside and we laid him on his favorite doggie bed under a shady tree; I laid down beside him and ran my fingers through his fur to calm him. Vince had one hand on me and the other on Sting. We told him goodbye and Vince said to go ahead. Then the woman injected him with the poison that stopped his heart and breathing.

I lay on the ground, sobbing, for what felt like an eternity even after Vince carried his corpse to the vet's car so he could be cremated.

Less than a year later, Percy changed. Our playful, athletic dog who loved nothing more than to chase cats and run around the yard barking at full tilt could no longer stand on his own. This time the vet couldn't come to us, so we placed our delicate and only remaining "child" in the back of the van and drove him to only place on earth, other than the inside of a car, that he hated. He trembled and tried hopelessly to stand so I sat cross legged on the floor and curled him into my lap, just like he'd do when storms came. The same vet came in, and once again, Vince's hands on both of us, he gave the word and my baby died in my arms.

About two months later, I began helping with the care of my grandparents. For a year I drove two hours to spend two days a week in their full time care -- washing, bathing, cooking, cleaning, reading, diapering, massaging, feeding, medicating, etc.

The night before my grandmother died I lay in the bed next to her, stroking her hair, massaging her frail skin. It was the end and I knew it. Sometimes she was afraid, other times expectant, other times resigned. This night, she was aware. The next morning, she died.

Nine month later, for the first time in his ninety-five years, my grandfather couldn't stand, he didn't wake up that morning, didn't get out of bed. I held his hand and watched as his heart could no longer pump his blood and it started to pool in his arms, legs, and face. My mother asked me to go get another tape (he was a huge fan of old country music and gospel and we played it for him constantly) and in the time I was gone from the room, he too left this world.

Like I said earlier, everybody dies at the end -- Merle, Stinger, Percy, Granny, Granddaddy, Old Yeller, Shakespeare. Me and you. Our parents and our children. Who we are when we're here, what we learn, and what we leave behind, matters. Maybe not to a lot of people, hell, maybe only to a few. But loving someone or something, learning from them, caring for them, and sending them on their way is a part of this life.

If you have an interest, read "Merle's Door." You can learn a lot from a free-thinking dog.

The Lanes take a trip!!

Hi folks! Just a quick little note to let you all know I haven't fallen off the face of the earth. In fact, Vince and I have been busy with work, family, the usual and are taking a little time off.

Thanks to some flight fuck ups last year, we had some free airline travel, hotel bonus points and what not and decided to spin the globe and go somewhere (at least where the airline went!)

So here we are.....

San Antonio and Austin, TX!!

Last night we spent on the Riverwalk and ended up at Coyote Ugly. One of the things we've learned is that as much as we enjoy the romantic walks and nice dinner's for two, there's just something about going someplace you can let your hair down and get a bit sexy that just makes us feel "right." It's was strange though; I was one of only about 4 or 5 other women in the place. The couple next to us had the Lifestyle vibe but we didn't push it. The other ladies were considerably older but they were definitely having a ball! One woman in particular was invited up on the bar to dance with a Coyote and let me say, the lady didn't embarrass herself. She had the moves!

The photo is two of the Coyotes on the bar getting doused with a barrel of water. It was hot out, so they probably enjoyed it on more than one level. :)

But the gents kinda saddened me a bit. This may be assuming wayyyyyyy too much, but a lot of them seemed a bit pathetic -- looking up at the 20-year old dancers, knowing that they were going back to their conventioneer hotels or where ever, after being stalked by bouncers with the initial BMF on their shirts (Bad Mother Fucker and OMG they were!). But the thing is they gave the impression of voyeurs, little boys doing something "bad." I have the sneaking suspicion that their wives or girlfriends aren't part of this because they can't be, they can't enjoy this atmosphere with their beloved, only in the darkness, hidden from them.

One guy might have a problem though. He was partaking in (and paying for) the body shots from the gals and his chosen Coyote, standing on the bar, his head tucked firmly between her legs, leaned over, pulled up his shirt and with a Sharpie started writing on his back. What she wrote was "I like having sex with dick here" with an arrow drawn down to his ass crack. His buddies thought that was hysterical, and I admit, so do I; but Sharpie is fucking hard to remove and if he's heading home to wifey-poo in the next day or so, he's got a bad night ahead of him.

Vince was going back to the hotel with me, and let me tell ya, that makes all the difference. ;) We're not so sexually adventurous that we'd pick up strangers in a bar; but the fact that we both know that we WOULD have an adventure with the right folks in the right place makes the night in question even sexier. Strange but true.

Now we're off to Austin! Going to check out some music, theatre, museums, etc. And while we're there try to meet up with a fantastic writer and person I've been following on-line for quite some time. She's awesome, and the chance to have a drink with her is one of the new wonders I'm finding in this blogger-like world. Some people I read their material and think "holy hell!", other I read and think "interesting, but not relevent to me", a few feel like they are just a few steps farther down life's path and yelling back cautions and encouragment. And then there are a few, who I feel like I "should" know. It's as if there is a connection, that magical click that so many people describe, and it just jumps off the screen as I read the thoughts they choose to share with the world. She's in the last group.

Anywhoooo, I'm reading blogs but not commenting much since we're having a ball here. I'll catch you all next week!

Just a reminder....

For some people,

Mother's Day

is the hardest day

of the year.

HNT -- Entwined

Happy HNT everyone!!

And after a wonderful session of love-making, we lie together; entwined in each other physically and emotionally, coming down from the high into the quiet valley of connection. Simple.... yet magic.

Don't forget to go to Osbasso's for the rest of the Half-Nekkidness!!

Yes!!!

I'm lying on my back in the overstuffed, hyper-pillowed king size bed of a fantastic little B&B, covered -- and I mean COVERED -- in Vince's cum. Now the man usually has a, ahem, generous capacity but this is impressive even by his standards. A few minutes later I am cumming in convulsions (for the second time today) desperately trying to freakin' BE QUIET since this antique 18-room hotel carries sound like fog-shrouded quarry. Fail. I fail, fail, fail and I don't really care because Vincent and I are caught up in the post-sex intensity of our first swinging experience.

That's right, folks. Vince and Ivey are no longer "swinger" virgins.

I briefly mentioned in a previous post that we had plans this past weekend with a couple we've corresponded with for quite some time. These folks were worth the wait.

A part of me would love to give y'all the blow-by-blow, action packed description. But that part of me is going to shut the hell up. First of all, I'm not a huge fan of "and then he..." "and then she..." and "and then we all...." fuck-fest style storytelling. Second, my mind and emotions were in such a jumble I don't know if I can accurately recall the sequence of events. And finally, I think I just want to keep the sweet, sweet details between the four of us.

To cover the basics, so you'll have a little idea of the lay of the land, here is the general information:

• The couple is from out of state and were visiting a town a couple of hours away.
• We met them in person the first time Saturday afternoon, hit it off, and spent several hours together, just talking.
• They had other vanilla friends to visit Saturday evening, but we all agreed that the chemistry was there and met up at a hotel Sunday afternoon before they had to leave for a very long drive back to their home.

So if you're looking for juicy details, you can stop reading now and return to your regularly scheduled life. Instead, I'm going to tell you what we (and I) discovered on this very significant part of our sexually adventurous journey.

Vincent gets it done -- Oh, yes he does. As those of you who've been reading a while know, Vince is the reserved one, I'm the aggressive one -- the one ready to rock 'n roll this thing, to get it on, to move this fucking train forward, to step it up, to.... to.... you get the idea. Well, let me tell ya folks, when push came to lets-get-a-room, it was my Vincent who made it all happen. He made the calls, booked the place, got us to our car, picked up the wine and extras, got me a sandwich ('cause he knows how I am when I get hungry), checked us in, set the scene and basically held my nerve-wracked hand.

Yep, Ivey got nervous and I sure as hell wasn't expecting that. It wasn't the "Oh no, I'm not sure I want to do this" kind of nerves; it was the "OMG, what if they don't like us!" kind of nerves. I felt like I was ten years old and the new kid being invited to the cool kid's birthday party.

But Vince doesn't possess that particular psychosis (and let me say the couple was great and very reassuring, so they weren't putting of any weird vibes) and it occurs to me that I need to get a handle on this. It's also odd because I never thought I'd feel this way. But like so many things we've discovered on this trip, when an unexpected emotion bubbles up, it's something to learn from and, if you decided it's undesirable, to change.

I didn't worry about most of the things I thought I would -- Sure, I wish I was 20 pounds thinner and 10 years younger but those thoughts came and went as if they were never there and THAT my friends, was an amazing and welcome revelation. I also never experienced that flash of envy that I was afraid I'd feel in a sexual situation with a beautiful woman. No "her tits are bigger/better", "her abs are flatter/better", "her ass is smaller/better" than mine. Granted, they were a delightful and very reassuring couple, but I never felt as if I needed their or Vince's reassurance; I just felt like I was there, present in the moment, enjoying the body I have and the bodies they offered.

I was right about jealousy -- never felt it. Not a twinge. Not a flash. Nada. In fact, it was exactly the opposite; I loved, loved, loved seeing Vincent with her. Not only was it hot, I felt a sense of pride, of happiness, that he was enjoying her, accepting what she offered, and (while dealing with his own emotions and nerves) doing his best to give pleasure back to her.

FYI -- Vincent said that he never felt any jealousy when I was with the husband, in fact, it was more like "curiosity."

OMG, I fucking love fucking women! -- Okay, I've been upfront about my interest in having sex with a woman but WOW! That was incredible. First, I still can't believe how different it feels to be kissed and licked by a woman. Holy shit. After she made me cum I couldn't WAIT to leap over and reciprocate. Boobies!! Lovely, soft, luscious, lickable, suckable boobies are a de-light! And the other..... I mean the rest.... holy hell, the REST of her?! Delicious! As the Mr. observed, "I think[Ivey's] gone from 'bi-curious' to 'bi-furious'!"

But I'm not abandoning my team -- I love cock. I really do. I love Vincent's cock and god knows his is my favorite in the whole wide world, but this new cock was different and that was good. It looked, felt, and tasted different -- his balls, the curve of his ass, the feel of his arms, the grip of his fingers. The way he moved and touched was new and as such, exciting. I cannot thank these two husbands enough for sharing their cocks with me and the other Mrs.!

The combo-mambo is freakin' fantastic! -- There is nothing hotter, I mean NOTHING (at least in my admittedly limited experience) than looking up at your husband (who's in your mouth), down (at a woman licking your pussy), and across her gorgeous back to see her gorgeous husband thrusting in and out of her. Except for maybe laying on your back, legs up with one person between your legs, another licking and sucking your tits, and yet another showering you with kisses. Or maybe, you're doing the licking and watching the men both sucking her beautiful breasts that you'd just been nibbling. I'm sure their are many, many others and I'm also sure we would have tried them out if ONE of us had at least thought of them at the time. In fact, the only frustration, as Vince so aptly put it, was having trouble seeing the scene with his head and attention buried in her lovely parts.

The who matters -- It's true that both Vincent and I enjoyed the play and the fun but the bodies were made irresistible by the minds and hearts of our playmates. There are standard quotes among the Lifestyle people that play partners are essentially "sex toys with pulses" or "dildos with personalities" and I certainly see the value in that point of view, maintaining an emotional space between yourselves and another couple. However, we are definitely "friends with benefits" types. I didn't just like this man's cock, I like this man. I wasn't just curious about experiencing sex with "a" woman, but rather I was eager to experience "this" woman. For Vince, she was more than "hawt" she was "a sweetheart." For both of us, as we discussed later, physical attributes alone aren't enough now, and won't be enough in the future, to get us into the mood with another couple.

The after is awesome! -- As we got ready to go the husband said to us "Just wait. The next few hours will be amazing." And he was right. The talking, laughing, remembering, discovering, and learning that continued to wash over us long after the "moment" was over was incredible. Interestingly, neither of us felt "changed" and I think it was because we took the slow path that we have. We shared so much before this moment -- our thoughts, fears, desires, hurts, fantasies, limits -- that we didn't experience a single moment of "oh my god what have we done." We didn't feel embarrassed or ashamed "of" or "for" each other. We felt, for lack of a better word, content.

And then, even though we were tired and coming down from an emotional high, we went back to our room and fucked like bunnies. Again. He is my everything. WE reached this place together. Two people, deciding to make our journey through this life as one, as we see fit.

The last surprise -- But for me, there was one more big surprise and let me tell ya kids, I didn't see it coming. After Vince and I got home I decided to go for a bike ride, ya know, by myself, to clear my head. I had my iPod cranked, it's freakin' hot by now, and I'm pedaling away. My mind is mulling over the recent events but also just drifting around day-to-day stuff (grocery store, work, housecleaning, etc.) About 5 miles into ride, tears start pouring down my face. I was shocked. I wasn't sad or upset or angry or hurt or embarrassed or anything. I couldn't figure out what the hell was going on. I was in a great mood, riding my bicycle, crying.

A few more miles in, away from my beloved husband and life partner, away from the intensity and the surreality of the moment, I got it. They were tears of joy and, in a sense, of relief. I had finally said "yes!" Yes to the moment, yes to the universe. I said yes to living a fuller, richer life and in the process turned yet another corner away from fear and away from my greatest fear of all; missing opportunities to experience all that life has to offer. It was a sexual adventure; maybe one of many to come or maybe a one in a lifetime thing. At this point, who knows?

But the moment came and we -- me, Vince, him, and her -- said "Yes!!!!"

HNT -- Legato

Happy HNT, one and all!

Even with Vince off at a fabulous gig (and sending me awesome pics and texts!) I am committed to getting back on the HNT bandwagon, so to speak. So, I worked with the timer on my Kodak and ended up with this! Not bad for little auto-pseudo-erotica, if I do say so m'self!

As always, a few Ivey facts:

1. In my teens, before I discovered the theater, I wanted to be a classical pianist. I wasn't bad.
2. At 18, I was keyboard player for a group that traveled throughout the US, Mexico, and parts of Europe for a year.
3. I still sit down to play occasionally and though my skills are a bit rusty, I love the music.

As always, check out the rest of the half-nekkid-ness over at Osbasso's!

Legato!
Ivey

A quick catch up --

A quick post to catch you, dear readers, up on the comings and goings around Ivey Lane.

First of all,we've been a bit busy and for self-employed folks, that's great!! Tax day came and went and we dutifully sent Uncle Sam a share of our well-gotten gains. Pet peeve: I just can't stand too much whining about paying taxes. Yes, I would like to keep more of my money. I don't mind at all that some of my money goes to artists who I think create crap any more than I mind that some of my money goes to politicians I despise. But I love driving on good streets, living in towns with nice parks, in a country where I can, in fact, be my own boss and start and run a small business.

Tonight Vince and I have a date with a couple we met on our new swinger website. After my lament about the frustrations of finding people, we persevered, sent out about 6 more greetings and heard back from a very nice couple. We've chatted on-line and I've talked to the Mrs. on the phone. It's just drinks and folks, if it goes well, I'll tell ya all about it. But if it's another disaster, I may just keep it to myself. As I mentioned to a friend in an earlier email, I'm a bit sick of reporting on things that 'almost' worked out. I might get over that though, so please don't hold me to it.

I'm also planning to participate in HNT this week. Again, we've missed out recently because of our schedule but I'm determined! I have several shots in mind but none that can be achieved without the assistance of my numero-uno photographer.

We're also about to go into a 4 week travel mode that will be taking us out quite a bit. First, we 're meeting another couple we met through a swinger website this weekend. We really like these folks and if nothing else, are excited to meet some really cool people and new friends in person. After that, Vince has to drive his aging parents back north, then it's off to Texas for a few days, then to a business conference we go to every year and is a blast.

That's what I got, folks! Babe -- I'm looking forward to hearing more about P90X and am keeping my bitchy "size 4!" remark to myself. MR -- I hope the GF is working. Hubman -- Safe travels. Mr. Cool -- on m'mind. Mr. B -- sounds like things are looking up a bit at your place. 13M -- haven't seen much new lately, hope all is well. Emmy -- we're taking your advice tonight. Fig -- why are you so freakin' smart AND sexy. Hope to see an HNT. Britni -- stay safe. Inferno and Mr. ABC -- Welcome to the Lane. John and Ann -- hope you're doing well. Everyone else -- hope you're all doing well this fine, fine week.

Best,
Ivey

TMI Tuesday -- Ivey's first meme

I've had a ton of stuff rattling around my noggin' to write about but right now I'm in one of my hormonally induced "blah" phases. Oh well, it comes with the territory. So I saw this meme and thought I'd give it a run and see if I like it. Don't know that I do; it seems a bit insipid but as I said, I may just be awash in enui. This may be a first and last.

Well, with that stimulating introduction in mind, enjoy!

Hi, my name is: not really Ivey, but you knew that.

Never in my life have I been: to South America, Asia, or Antarctica. And I have no plans to visit Antarctica.

The one person who can drive me nuts better than anyone else is: my mother.

When I’m nervous: I get even funnier.

The last song I listened to was: "Learnin' to drink whiskey".

If I were to get married right now my best man/maid of honor: I am married and I had a man of honor.

Last Christmas: was spent in the hospital with my Daddy after his stroke.

I should be..: thinner. sigh.

When I look down I see: perfectly pedicured toes.

If I were a character on ‘Friends’ I’d be: A character on what?

My current gripe is: people who bitch constantly about paying taxes.

I have a hard time understanding: there's very little I have a hard time understanding though I confess I do get baffled by people who think they can change my mind by insulting me.

There’s this girl I know that: could really benefit from a big ol' dose of lighten up.

I like it when: Vince plays his guitar in the morning and I wake up to the sound of live jazz bouncing off the plaster walls and wood floors.

If I won an award, the first person I would tell would be: my husband.

Take my advice: do not ever tell a nun she's going to hell for being Catholic. Especially not when you're a 5-year old Southern Baptist child.

The thing I want to buy: is... uhhhh... a, uhhhhh.... a new seat for my bike? Socks? Not really a big spender.

If you visited the place I was born: I have no idea what you'd see. I haven't been back there since I was 6 months old.

I plan to visit: everywhere except Antarctica.

If you spent the night at my house: we would have a great meal and then spend the evening either on the back porch or in the living room (depending on the weather) chatting about life, the universe, and everything.

I’d stop my wedding if: nothing would have stopped my wedding though many things tried.

The world could do without: fast food. Seriously.

I’d rather lick the belly of a cockroach than: shop for a bathing suit.

Most recent thing I’ve bought myself: Bare Ecsentuals "Fairly Light" makeup.

Most recent thing someone else bought me: ah.... drinks?

My favorite blond is: my neighbor. She's in her sixties, extremely funny, and a rockin' blond!

My favorite brunette is: ahem, I'm a brunette and I think I'm pretty cool. If I disqualify myself from the equation I'd say Vincent.

My favorite red head is: my very good friend I'll call the Doyenne. She is magnificent beyond words. When I'm around her I feel smarter, better, wiser, kinder, anything and everything good. Magically, she makes you think you're a better person than you know in your heart you are.

My middle name is: not nearly as interesting as my real first name.

In the morning I: leisurely lie in bed until Vince comes upstairs and either gently wakes me up or ravishes me with wake-up sex.

The animals I would like to see flying besides birds are: horses.

Once, at a bar: I actually ordered a soft drink.

Last night I was: grappling in a karate class.

There’s this guy I know who: is actaully one of the world's top 5 antique aircraft mechanics.

If I was an animal I’d be: a horse. Childhood dreams die hard.

A better name for me would be: My real name's pretty cool. I can't imagine a better one.

Tomorrow I am: going to the beauty shop. (I'm southern folks. It'll always be a "shop" not a "salon.")

Tonight I am: going to soak in a bathtub, reading a book, while sipping Chardonnay.

My birthday is: a celebration!

Gratitude?

Over on my blogroll you'll find "Sex with the Wife." Mr. B, as he goes by, posed an interesting question the other day about gratitude, specifically "should a wife be grateful to her husband for not cheating on her." He went on to make it gender neutral, but later in the post it appears that the question should more aptly be phrased "should a husband/wife EXPECT their spouse to be grateful that they didn't cheat on them."

It's a nice short post so rather than recapping it, I suggest you give it a read here. I was going to add my thoughts in his comments section but soon realized it was turning into a post so I moved it over here.

The short answer to his primary question is "no." As he said, to insist someone else be grateful because one party simply held up their end of a deal is silly for all the reasons he gave. It's simply honoring the deal you made in the first place. I don't walk around giddy when people don't lie to me; but depending on the severity of the lie, my relationship to the person, and the harm done to me, I'll vacillate between being disappointed and enraged depending on the situation.

But.....

His question had to do specifically with sexual fidelity and I have to admit, when Vince and I were having our dry spell (6+ years worth!), I was and still am extremely grateful he didn't cheat on me. Now to be fair, it wasn't like we were communicating all that well about sexual issues at that time and that's a huge part of our growth as a couple over the past few years. In addition, I am an outstanding wife on all other fronts. We've never lacked love or overt appreciation for the other, there was no hostility, resentment, or animosity; we just weren't having sex.

I would not have been surprised -- and I would have been tremendously hurt -- but in hindsight, I would definitely see how my behavior, our circumstance, etc. could have contributed to the situation. So, in spite of provocation, my husband honored his vow to me, and for that, I am indeed, grateful. That's how I feel, but even if I didn't, he would still have no right to expect it from me.

You see the idea of one person expecting their spouse to be grateful to them for simply not being a dick or a bitch is arrogance at its worst. For example, should you expect your spouse to be grateful if you don't call them names, if you don't hit them, if you don't ignore them? Should they be happy that you don't yell at the kids or kick the dog? If that is how you truly want to behave, feel you deserve to behave, and you are graciously holding yourself back, then you, sir or madam, are an ass.

And that is where I think the idea of expecting people to be grateful for anything falls apart. You see, I've seen this particular line of thinking all over the blogosphere. It usually comes from a man or woman who feels they are being unreasonably provoked by their spouse (he/she doesn't understand me, he/she isn't giving me enough sex, he/she is actually a bitch/dick but I "can't" leave them because of the kids/money/morals/inertia/disruption/whatever the fuck have you) and they actually deserve to lie or deceive their husband/wife but for some reason, they aren't. Yet. But they sure as hell are thinking about it.

But the final paragraph of Mr. B's reasoning concerned me quite a bit because to me it falls under the "future payoff" paradigm -- you honor your vows to remain sexually faithful now because in the future you may actually need this person to do something unpleasant for you.

Yuck.

Now let me go on record and say that I've read almost every post Mr. B has on his blog and I DO NOT think that Mr. B in any way lacks integrity. In fact, he appears to be the guy that finds himself in a position not unlike my Vincent did a few years ago, only Mr. B has his blog as an outlet, and my Vince had only me, his damaged but loving wife.

That said, (and I'm going to keep with his husband/wife scenario just so the prose won't be gender tortured but yeah, it could go either direction) let me offer my take on the final paragraph a phrase at a time:

"Here's a newsflash guys: there will come a time when she may be in a position of advantage..." That's "game" thinking. This isn't a fucking game: it's your wife/husband, your personal integrity, his/her heart, your combined life, your children's lives, your past/present/future, etc. Also, it implies that the cheater is in a position of "advantage" now. An opportunity to cheat is no more of an advantage than an opportunity embezzle.

"When you are 70 years old and committed to a wheelchair and need your loving wife to help you wipe your ass...." A) 70 ain't that old. B) Now you need her to help you?! Now?! How about when you were younger? Did you need her then? To give you love and guidance? To help you achieve your dreams? To help you build a combined life for two not a one-man show and his support staff? If you really don't need her now, then man-up, do both of you a favor, and get a fucking divorce.

"...you will be very grateful that you stuck with her ..." No, you'll be grateful that SHE stuck with your sorry, resentful, entitled, frustrated ass because SHE didn't have to either. More likely though, you'll simply devolve into the battling-Bickermans, sniping and griping your way to the grave.

"...when you didn't have to." If you lack the integrity to honor your commitments then no, you didn't "have to." Furthermore, if you lack the ability or willingness to communicate with your spouse, if you lack the courage to make changes or sacrifices for the person you claim is "the one" then no, not only do you not have to, you probably aren't able to either.

"...life runs in circles..." That almost always shows up in a "just you wait, you'll get yours" context. Does anyone ever think "Hey, I'm reaping some pretty bad karma now." Do any of these people ever think that the current unhappy circumstance they find themselves in is because of some effort they failed to put in before? Any of them?

"...and if you jump for greener pastures at a moment when you think you can get a nicer deal..." That's just it, they don't think they can get a nicer "deal," they aren't terminating the deal they have. They are trying to keep their spouse from dissolving the deal (i.e. the marriage) so they can have something else in addition to their existing deal. "I want my married life, AND I want, nay I DESERVE, pussy on the side." Oh fuckin' please.

"...you may find yourself dumped when you are in pretty sorry shape..." Let me see if I understand, you're saying she's the type of woman who would put up with decades of resentment and blame for whatever his frustrations are THEN decide to leave? Also, it's a pretty specious assumption to think she's going to be some spry septuagenarian at the same time he's failing on all physical fronts. She may have her own reasons for staying with him.

"Just stick it out and don't get too full of yourself for doing so." Seriously, if it truly is that bad, don't stick it out. If what you are lacking in your marriage and in your life is that important to you, if it is that crucial to your joy and happiness, MAKE A CHANGE. Accept the (hopefully) temporary hurt and disappointment you are going to cause. The chances are, if it really is that bad for you, it isn't all that great for her either.

I know, because I lived it, how painful sexual difficulties between a husband and wife can be. I also know, because I lived it, how wonderful it is to finally grow through it, as a person and as a married couple. I married a good man.

So yes, I'm grateful to him that he is a good man.... and that's completely different from being grateful that he isn't a bastard.

Here's to you, Stanley Tucci

So the other night I rented "Julie & Julia," a fun little film perfect for the evening. But I gotta tell ya, the best thing about the flick - Stanley Freakin' Tucci under the direction of... well.... whoever directed the damn movie portraying Paul Child, husband of Julia.

Paul Child was, quite frankly, a man. And he was portrayed as a man -- an adult, smart, sexual, witty, well-written and well-read, kind, compassionate, brave and for lack of a better term, manly man. Furthermore, it appears that the film depicted the two of them and their relationship quite accurately. They liked each other. They respected each other. They had delicious sexual desire for each other. They talked to each other. They each had individual lives that they loved to intertwine. He was not some obstacle she had to overcome in order to succeed. He was not some ogre enforcing his will nor "shaping" her.

I mention this, because I think if I see one more movie, TV show, commercial, comic or anything else that perpetuates the "all men are over-sexed, unaware, mindless morons" myth, I'm going to fucking explode.

Seriously. My health may be in danger here.

And it's everywhere. In some cases it's blatant, like the sit-coms and commercials who couldn't sell beer or vacuum cleaners if men were, like, competent human beings. But in other cases its couched in "science" and even under the guise of "helping" men understand women. Evolutionary psycho-babble would have you believe that men are just barely containing some inbred need to fuck every female that crosses their path (not true). The PUA and MRA's people promote the idea that lying and deception are simply the natural order for men to get what "they want" and what women are naturally withholding because, ya know, deep down, chicks really like being manipulated and holy-mother-of-god, trained.

Well intentioned neo-feminists are constantly spouting "men, you just need to listen to us" mantra as if being respectful and considerate of another human being were some big fucking revelation. At the same time, you have the aforementioned Ev-psych and PUA idiots spouting shit like "don't blame us for being assholes, we're men."

My girl over at BarefootDreamer posted a lovely list of things men can do for their wives and I agreed with everything on it, only my feeling is that it shouldn't be gender specific. Doesn't everyone want to be treated with respect? Doesn't everyone want to be listened to? Appreciated? Sincerely praised? Wouldn't you, if you loved your husband, want to encourage your husband and make his dreams come true? Shouldn't every adult human being take umbrage at being "told" what to do?

I agreed wholeheartedly with the "tell us your problems but don't act like we are your problem." The trouble is, that's exactly what the entire list was doing. Moreover, it plays straight in to the "all men are mindless morons" paradigm especially at the end with a bit that really bothered me. It was a long list of things a man needs to be to make a woman happy and not screw up then wrapped up with what a woman need to do keep a man happy (Show up naked and bring food. har har.) Maybe your man is a neanderthal but mine isn't. In fact, I doubt neanderthals were that neanderthal.

So here's Ivey's corollary to what is, in fact, I think a wonderful list for how people who want to enjoy their relationships should try to act. These are just a few additional things to consider:

• If your life partner IS ignoring you, it's because he or she is an ass, not because of their gender.
• If your spouse doesn't listen to you, then she or she is a self-absorbed prick (gender not withstanding).
• If your spouse doesn't spend time with you, then he or she may have a priorities problem or they may actually not enjoy spending time with you. Two different problems requiring two different solutions.
• If your spouse doesn't praise you, or encourage you, or try to make your dreams come true then you need to take a look at your specific spouse or the dynamics of your specific relationship, not paint half the human race with the black brush of insensitivity.
• If your husband or wife is habitually condescending or bossing you around, then that person may be a control freak or a jack ass but it's not simply a natural behaviour they have to overcome, it's a character flaw.
• And yes, if your spouse is happier it's likely that you will be happier. But you can't make anyone happy. You could be doing absolutely every fucking thing on this list and still be married to an unhappy, miserable, or unrealistic person. If that's the case, it's sad, but it's not your fault.

Relationships are between people, not concepts, not ideas, not cultures, not even genders -- it's about PEOPLE, people.

HNT -- Vince's View (a)

Happy HNT everyone!

After missing last week, I just couldn't stand to miss another, so late last night, Vincent was once again pressed into service! And I just love the result. This is his one of his many, many views and I must say, I kinda like it. First, a few Ivey facts:

• I have an odd fascination with what "other people see."
• I'm very curious about what Vincent sees, not just when we're having sex, but when we're dining out, riding our motorcycle, working in the yard, doesn't matter. It's all about how he sees the world.
• I think this way figuratively as well as literally.

Happy HNT one and all! Check out the rest of the perspectives over at Osbasso's place!

The ONE

The stars overhead are clear, completely devoid of light pollution so the Milky Way stretch across the southern sky. The sound of the waves lapping the shore, gently because this was the Gulf of Mexico, combine with the ever-present wind rustling the Sea Oats that hold the dunes in place. The temperature is warm, even at 2:00 in the morning; the beach is deserted, part of the Florida State Park system so there are no houses, no development, no stores, no cars, not a single item that would have you believe you are nothing if not the only two people on earth.

It had been a wonderful, natural progression; camping with college friends, an evening of guitars and laughter, he and I chatting late into the night across our sleeping bags and finally deciding to take a walk on the beach to avoid waking our slumbering companions. We found a connection that night, common ground and shared interests. Youth, art, idealism, films, humor, beauty.

I'm 20 years old and the boy is all of 21. We are tangled together in the sand, salt and grit not impeding the passion of our kisses and exploring hands and mouths. My breasts and his chest are exposed, his grip is firm and gentle, his kisses warm and sweet. Slowly he moves his hand farther down... fingers just under the exposed band of my panties... and I stop him.

"I can't."

And it's true, I couldn't. A twenty year old virgin, so caught up in the soul crushing fear of sin and the guaranteed wrath and retribution of God that what could have been, should have been, a wonderful moment of memory just got stacked like cord wood on the vast number of missed opportunities before and after. Fuck!

Fuckity, fuck, fuck!!

A couple of weeks ago, 23 years AFTER that event, I missed my second opportunity to have sex on a beach, which is what brought this little memory to mind.

You see, I was taught from the moment I graced this world, that there was ONE man, ONE who would be "worthy" of intimate congress, ONE that would make what was dirty, sinful, and unclean into something sanctioned by God. And in the same way that I believed the Garden of Eden was a literal place and I knew for certain Jonah lived for three days in the belly of a whale, I knew that God punished sinners and those that broke His holy law. And the wages of sin are death and being cast into the Lake of Fire was a real fucking threat and besides, this sweet, sweet boy would see me as nothing other than the Whore of Babylon once he's "had his way" with me. Oh, and I would no longer be worthy of "the ONE," in fact any ONE worth being the ONE, wouldn't want me anymore since I was no longer pure and waiting just for him.

And for that idiocy I don't have a memory of a fantastic fucking night of sweet sex on a perfect beach on a perfect night. And there are a ton of other memories I don't have either, momentary connections that never happened, physical sensations and pleasures neither felt nor shared. Stupid.

And that, my friends, is one of the many reasons that I do not like religion nor the religious and, furthermore, why I think the bullshit they teach is harmful. Because it is simply not true. Nor were many if not most of the other things I was taught and shaped my life around including gender issues, work, lifestyles, politics, friends, family, and pretty much anything else you can conceive. I'm focusing on the sexual side here because, well, this blog is pretty much about sexual exploration and growth. And here is something key I learned as part of our journey:

Sex is a natural and wonderful part of the human experience. It is not an act the demands punishment nor for that matter judgement. And any sex, good or bad, does not "ruin" you for future sex r relationships. I don't for one fucking moment now believe that had I had that delightful experience in the mid 80s that it would have a negative impact on my relationship with Vince. In fact, I strongly believe that if I'd had more generous, accurate, positive experiences he and I would not have endured years of sexual dysfunction.

I also think I would have made fewer real mistakes. When I finally did become sexually active (and the first time, seriously, "bad" doesn't begin to cover it) I held so many wrong beliefs that I continued to compound problems -- the biggest was the conviction that sex HAD to equal love. It wasn't just that I needed every sexual partner I encountered to like me, I needed them to LOVE me. I also had to love them, whether they were worthy of it or not. They couldn't just be a good time, a lark, or an experience. No, no. I had to know their motives and they'd better be good ones. In fact, it became almost a necessity for the guy to lie to or mislead me just so I could rationalize my own desires and behavior.

From there, it became, in a sense, a race to the bottom as the men I chose were more and more willing to give me what I required (deception), so that I could have what I wanted (sex).

That's not to say they were all losers and bad guys. Some of them really just liked me and wanted to have a good time. Man, I wish I could've recognized and enjoyed that; like I said, I think I would have some wonderful memories now. But a couple of them were downright bad news. The last one before Vince was a drug using, racist, abusive homophobe who, lucky for me, dumped me for the wife of a co-worker. I was devastated. Depressed. And finally realized that I need some fucking therapy.

Two celibate years later, I found Vince. And he is "the one." Not the pre-destined, Jesus approved, magic-man of myth, but the one that chooses -- deliberately and with good judgment, patience, and self-awareness -- to share my dreams, strange as they are. He's the guy who is willing to work, laugh, compromise, grow, share, accommodate, celebrate, sacrifice, and decide every day that I, that we, are worth it. His purpose in life is not to be the living embodiment of every dream I've ever had nor the gatekeeper of every desire and interest that might come to me. But, that said, he wants me to experience life as fully and as richly as I can.

And I want the same for him.

The church was then and is now, wrong. You don't suffer because you connect with people, even if that connection is sometimes momentary, sometimes limited, and maybe even sometimes physical. You suffer when you withhold yourself out of fear. You create suffering when you require others to withhold themselves because of your own fears.

So he is the one that I choose to make this trip with, hopefully a long one. And along the way, we will be open to what comes our way -- one journey, created by two people, shared generously and joyously with friends and loved ones.

Taking a break?

So as I was hopping around the blogs yesterday one post stuck out -- my main man Hubman and Veronica's "Swingshift." In a nutshell, it explains why they've decided to take a break from swinging for a little while:

"As it turns out we've grown frustrated with the work involved in finding playmates. It seems like all we've encountered lately are couples that don't follow up or seem intereseted in, I dunno, actually meeting. Assuming of course that we find them attractive in the first place!"

Read the whole article here.

It was so similar to a few conversations Vince and I had lately it made me wonder if you can take a break from swinging before, I dunno, you've actually swung!

Maybe I'm naive (okay, I am naive) but I had no idea how difficult this would be. Forget, for a moment, the emotional and relationship work it takes to finally get on to the same page. Forget, even further, the amount of personal growth that is required to mentally move from "I'm kinda curious....." to "I think I wanna...." to "I am going to....." Let's say you've finally slogged through all of that and now you're ready to get down to business; well, good luck with that.

Let's take up H&V's statement from our perspective.

"Assuming of course that we find them attractive in the first place!" This has been a bigger kicker for us than I thought. From Vince's point of view -- and one that I really had a tough time with initially because I bought the 'all men are barely contained horndogs' crap -- he really doesn't find a lot of women attractive as in, he's very selective. We've discovered that he certainly has a "type" both physically- and personality-wise but they are a rare breed in the swinging world from what we can tell. One thing he makes perfectly clear, they have to at least measure up to me, and I apparently set his bar pretty high. (He's sweet!)

But the truth is I do set the bar kinda high. First, he has a problem with "shallow." Now these ladies may be the epitome of depth and perspective but if so, they sure hide it well. He's also not too hip with "dumb." Again, lot's of folks talk about being smart in their poorly worded and typo-ridden emails. Maybe the disconnect is just with us. He (and I) also like people who are creative and, well, classy but it's kinda hard to believe the "we're a smart, classy couple" rhetoric when you're staring at 20 photos of ass and pussy in a public profile. Ditto for "discrete."

Sheesh.

Our routine is Vince peruses our swinger site's profiles and bookmarks the ones where he finds the ladies attractive -- and there aren't that many within a reasonable driving distance. He scans the written info because the woman can be hot as hell and if the writing sucks or is non-existant, it's an automatic "pass." From there, I weed out the ones that I'm not that hip, too. After that, I read the profile and see what I think.

This is where my point of view is odder than I thought. I've always been attracted to a wide range of physical types. As long as you appear to take care of yourself, then personality is what matters. Well, I'm getting pickier and I seriously think it has to do with moving from the "forbidden fantasy" to the "sanctioned actuality." It's sort of like when I go shopping. When I don't have any money, everything looks good! When I go back to the store with cash in my pocket ready to spend, I'll look for hours and not find a damn thing I like.

Then we have the problem of NO MALE PHOTOS in the damn public profile. I'm cool if there's no face pic (there isn't one in ours) but no male at all means he's not an asset OR the man doesn't matter; both of which are a turnoff.

Once we settle on, say 10 or 12 profiles we think are interesting, I write an introduction email that is specific to the profile. Usually the first paragraph says exactly what it was that caught our eye. The second paragraph is a quick cut and paste that tells a little more about us that I modify a bit to suit each couple, and the last is how to contact us. All that takes time.

"It seems that all we've enountered lately are couples that don't follow up....." Shoot, they don't respond AT ALL. That's fuckin' rude, especially when you consider that all the sites have a generic "thanks but no thanks" button you can simply click on. Now granted, I don't respond to generic "Hey, wazzzup! Yo, you hot!! Chckd ur profil an pics! Wanna fuck!!" But I do respond to people who at the very least put our screen name somewhere in the email.

Other than the ones I've written about before on Ivey Lane, of all the couples we've contacted we've recieved exactly three responses, not counting the additional spam emails from folks posing as a couple wanting to contact us, but really just pushing their event. "Hey, checked your profile and liked what we saw. You'll have a great time at the ________ party! Only $50 per HAWT couple! See you there, sexies!!"

Jeeez-us!

".... or seem interested in, I dunno, actually meeting." The three that did respond all said something along the lines of "hey, let's get together" but every time we suggest a time a place, they mysteriously go quiet.

To add to all of this, we already knew that we aren't the "party" types with the wacky dress up and the make-a-spectacle-of-yourself behavior. Neither of us ever really have been. We've also learned there's something kinda creepy for us about the swinger bar scene. We'll probably go to another one at some point in the future, but probably only if we're planning on meeting someone that we already know there. Again, neither of us are "meat market" types. Never have been.

On the upside, we're enjoying the vanilla world a lot more! Vince is not only comfortable but confident checking out the lovely ladies at his gigs. I'm much more open to enjoying myself on the dance floor knowing that he's not up on stage getting jealous while I enjoy myself. Together we check out waitresses or others that cross our path and it's a fun game.

When we're out and about we do occasionally encounter people that make us both go 'hmmmmm...." or give us that little jolt. If it's only one of us, we enjoy the jolt and move on. But every once in while, someone turns both our heads and we look at each other and think "how could we make this work?"

We're both more confident and I think it shows. We're also both more "out there" with our humor, our jokes, our interactions with each other and with others. Personally, I'm slowly shedding that constant feeling I used to have of being contained, of not being myself. And people are noticing.

In addition, I have my on-line flirty friends who fullfil a wonderful role in my life right now. Vince knows who they are and appreciates what they do for me and in a way, for him. An interesting phenomenon I realized the other day is that the more I engage my fantasies on-line, the more present I am with him when we're together. We're also able to share and more fantasies together, something we never did before we started this journey.

There's still plenty of room for growth and we're definitely open to and seeking new experiences but I have the feeling when we finally have them they'll be more organic, more of a natural flow from the mutual chemistry and the moment. We're becoming more clearly defined as a couple and more aware of each other as separate individuals.

In the end, I wouldn't say that Vince and I are "taking a break" from our pursuit of adventure but we are relaxing a bit, breathing into it, letting the tension go. Opportunities are on the horizen and we're keeping our eyes open but we're not banging our heads against the wall quite so hard anymore. And that's really all we needed a break from.

HNT -- They eyes have it

Happy HNT one and all!

Hiding the face in HNT shots can be quite a challenge but also quite boring. It's usually an arm across the face, a rear shot, or close crop. But the truth is, it's really about hiding the eyes. So, quickly, a few Ivey facts:

1. My eyes are very expressive. Even when I have my guard up or don't feel like I know you well enough to be fully me, you can tell in an instant if I like or dislike what I'm hearing or seeing.
2. I've been told my eyes "flash" when I'm angry, excited, wanton, joyous, etc.
3. I love to write, but more than that I love to talk face to face, to really get into whatever the topic is. When we're together, you get the full me, all my attention on you.

And I won't take my eyes off you.

For more HNT, visit our man Osbasso!

See you later,
Ivey