I Know You Don’t Mean It

After I told the Go Stand In The Corner guy that I didn’t want to be his fantasy chat friend on Fet, he still tried to draw me in with more messages. So in the vein of Lin-Manuel, no means no means no means no means no…….well, anyway.

[Break for making arrangements to get the compounded medication to control my hives. I have to try one week of pills to see if I’m going to be allergic to the vegetable-based capsule they use for the powder. Total for 14 pills: $38. Not covered by Medicaid.]

Then I get another gem in my FetLife inbox, completely out of the blue, from a guy I’ve never had any contact with before in a town that is about an hour and a half south of Minneapolis:

Hey there beautiful. I just thought I would send you a text and tell you that you’re one great looking woman. In my eyes bald women are beautiful as I am bald myself. I know you say that you have health problems right now but I still wish that we could talk and hopefully meet as I will come to you as long as you let me. You seem like the type of woman that knows what she wants and I’m the type of guy that also knows what I want and that is you. I’m a gentleman that works too much but also enjoys beautiful women As You Are. I’m serious about meeting you as I would like to meet you now today tomorrow Sunday soon as possible as I don’t want no one else to steal you away from me. Give me a shout out if you’re interested in talking and we can go from there.

So, this is what my profile says:

I relocated from Phoenix back to my home state to be closer to family so they can take care of me during a serious health crisis. Feel free to message me but be aware that I cannot do any socializing of any variety right now. Respect my boundaries.

Now, is there anything in there that says, “Except you, guy. You know absolutely nothing about me including whether I even drink coffee but you know you’re going to make me happy for the rest of my life because you want to do dirty things to my bald head.”????

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Send Up The Flares

It has been a really long time since I’ve logged into my FetLife profile. I didn’t realize it, but I had three messages waiting for me – one from about two months ago, another from four months ago, and the third from a full year prior. The one from a year ago I let slide. I mean, I did put in my profile that I don’t log on and that I’m going through a health crisis, and I can’t “play” in any way, shape or form. I did make a small adjustment to my profile, which alerted my friends and RELEASED THE KRACKEN.

One former spank party friend wished me well and told me that he had heard I moved to California. I replied that that wasn’t the case, I’m actually in Minnesota, taking care of some serious stuff. Then the guy who sent me a message four months ago hit me up again, this time with his instant message name and phone number. I replied that I was not looking to do ANYTHING, but that didn’t deter him; he said he would be willing to “give me a massage if I needed it.” Um, right, do bedridden women usually fall for that?

Then another guy whom I’ve played with at spank parties in Arizona hit me up to let me know he was actually currently in my city for work, and was I interested in getting together for a session? I groaned. This guy…he’s very, very, VERY focused on his kink. I like to have fun. It’s not the be-all, end-all thing for me. He carries a backpack with all of his tools. He actually has two pictures of me (not showing my face, only my red ass) on his profile. He’s totally into role playing, having me stand in the corner, punishment, the whole bit.

So I turned him down, because there is no fucking way I can do anything, including hang upside down, or put my stomach over his knees. The thought makes me cringe. I would be walking like a cat just getting out of anesthesia. And it would be painful, and not in a good way. So he asked me if I could be his chat buddy while he’s traveling for work: talk to him about discipline, spanking, corner time, paddling, etc. I’m rolling this around in my head, and first of all, this requires research. And time. And creativity. Probably some motherfucking Skype. A hairbrush (because wouldn’t you know it, I’m bald). It’s all I can do to peel myself out of bed to make food for dinner every day, and this guy wants me to put a lot of effort into keeping him happy and satisfied.

It takes a lot of effort to turn him down and I know I’m going to have to repeat myself. It’s not my first time. And there it is: “I’m traveling a lot and I don’t get the opportunity to do what I need to do.” So I have to drive it home for him: I’ve got serious stuff going on, I’ve got scar tissue in my brain and I have to lay flat 20-22 hours every day, I’m in pain, I can’t get another operation right now. His reply: “Okay, just know that you’re missed.” BTW, he has a wife and two little children at home. She knows about his kink and his attendance at the spank parties; I don’t know what else she knows because the travel job is news to me – but then again, we were never close.

This is also not the first time I’ve had to turn him down since I started having shunt failures. His kink always comes first. It’s fucking exhausting, man. But if y’all are interested in a pen pal, hit me up.

In other news, for about three weeks I’ve been dealing with persistent hives on a daily basis. I wasn’t quite sure what to do because of losing my rare disease doctor. However, I received a message from him this morning indicating that he put a script through to the compounding pharmacy for me that will (hopefully) help with my hives as a sort of last hurrah while I try to find another doctor. I also got the names of two doctors in the area who would be willing to communicate with him. The problem is that one is old as dirt and so probably won’t be practicing much longer, and the other one isn’t much younger and has a bad reputation for being a raging bitch. I need to sacrifice a chicken and do a dance around a fire or something.

Also today, I received a call back from the neurosurgeon’s office whom I originally saw two years ago when I relocated here from Phoenix. I called him as a last-ditch effort to try to be seen by him or someone else in the practice and get away from my current neurologist. She has been telling me that I don’t understand my symptoms – kind of along the same lines of telling me that even though I stubbed my toe, it’s really my nose that is hurting, ridiculous like that. So this neurosurgeon was kind enough to order a repeat lumbar puncture, which I’ve been begging for since December 2016. The lumbar puncture he ordered is “high volume,” meaning they will take at least four vials of cerebrospinal fluid. They will measure the opening pressure (like you would when you check the pressure on your vehicle’s tires) and then they will send the vials of fluid for testing of the proteins and check for bacteria. Getting this done will also relieve my symptoms for a few hours. He also agreed with me on my choice of neurologists within his group. 

My current neurologist’s justification for not ordering a current LP is this: Usually slit ventricles means that you are overdraining. I pointed out to her that my shunt failed 17 days after surgery in 2015 so I’ve got high pressure, and she witnessed my shunt opening up for about 30 seconds during my last appointment, and my paralysis went away, then came back. Then we read scientific journal articles together about adults with slit ventricles and shunt failures and symptoms. Then she said it only happened to some adults. I asked her why I couldn’t be included in that “some.” She told me it didn’t count because I wasn’t throwing up, I was only nauseated.

Fuck that. Spinal tap, here I come. 

Can’t Find What You’re Looking For? Try The Thesaurus!

This was cute. Normally I’m not a fan of the Copy-and-Paste-Monster, because clearly the man is sending out hundreds of messages and just waiting to see who responds, but this guy either didn’t ask a friend for a second opinion before he started sending his out en masse or he had great confidence in his writing skills. Whatever the reason, enjoy:

Hello hope this finds you well!
I wanted to take a moment of your time and introduce myself, my name is J++++++n.
I have read your profile and really liked what you said concise and interesting.
Anyways you seem like a very interesting person to me and I would enjoy getting to know you better. Check my profile and hopefully there’s something that will interest you and if so, and you are interestead feel free to write me back.
Have a great day.

(Just as a reminder, this is what my profile says:
*******I’M ALLERGIC TO:********

– Hookups, FWB, DTF
– Threesomes, foursomes or moresomes
– All animals furred or feathered (even “hypoallergenic” animals), though I love them
– Misogynistic behavior
– Lame excuses
– Cheaters, liars, thieves
– Poor dental hygiene
– Conspiracy theorists
– Stalkers
– Contemporary country music, rap, hip hop
– Republicans
– Being called “cutie”
– Organized religion or prayer

What I’m doing with my life: Writing articles regarding rare and chronic diseases, trying to find the joy in life with new restrictions. Seriously – there is no way “arrow root pudding” is a real dessert!

I spend a lot of time thinking about: the fact that no one wanted to share a deep, dark secret, so OKC took that question away.

You should contact me if:
– You practice kindness and wit.
– You strive to live an authentic life.
– You are not addicted to beverages or chemicals.
– You are a non-smoker (of all things) and don’t use chew/snuff (ever).
– We live in the same country; my preference is to connect with someone in the same metro area because I dislike long distance relationships.
– You understand that no means no.
– You know and use proper grammar, spelling and punctuation.
– You would like me to proofread your profile for grammar, spelling and punctuation errors.
_____________________________________________________________

You would think that with just the basics, there would be at least a few things to chat about, even if it’s “Why can’t I snort coke off your tits?” – if you remember, that’s a gem from a previous OKCupid guy. Anyway, I would be interested to know why the guy doesn’t know any other term to use besides interested because there’s a whole world of knowledge out there on Thesaurus.com.)

********Fun fact:  In the time it took to sign on and copy my profile to this post, 23 guys looked at my OKCupid profile! Dangit, there’s going to be more material soon, I can just feel it. Breaking hearts and taking screen names……

Where Have All The Good Men Gone?

Yesterday I posted an article on Twitter from The Good Men Project site.

http://goodmenproject.com/featured-content/bots-wedding-feminism-marriage-cost-jrmk/

With the post, I said, “If men are butt hurt by women having careers and their own income, they’re not worth marrying.” Then I included the hashtag #feminism.

I always, always hesitate to include this hashtag. It’s not because I don’t believe in equal rights – I do – but some days I’m just not up to being attacked. There are a multitude of men on Twitter who create mask accounts and watch hashtags like “feminism” because they immediately jump on that thread of conversation to argue with women and tell us we don’t know what we’re talking about, and that we’re stupid, and that we don’t know how to read, and that we are emotional, and that we are fat, and that we just need a good dick to stick it to us.

The first kid that jumped in wasn’t using very strong language. In fact, he was a lot less forceful than the others, but I am thinking this is because of his age; as he gets older and continues to buy into this thought process that men are the “victims” of feminism – rather than understanding that a more equalized and emotionally connected society brings happiness and contentment to most rather than just a select few – he will become more and more angry and disillusioned about his life. When I remarked upon the fact that the ex Dumb and Angry wanted to shoot me because he felt threatened by me earning my own income (that was behind the fight I had to call the cops on), at first the kid said he didn’t know if that was true, but if it was, he wouldn’t continue discussing this topic because I would only be able to see my own experience. I keep saying “kid” because I’m guessing this one can’t be a day over 19. His next argument was that his dad wanted to be the breadwinner and his mom wanted to stay at home, though she ended up having to work. Did I deny those people exist? On the contrary, I absolutely know they do, and told him he can still find them in the 1950’s household fetish group on FetLife. I’m not speaking for them. I’m speaking directly about the men who feel threatened about women earning their own wages.

Another guy jumped in. I’m not sure if his picture was actually of him, but I’m guessing him to be about 27. His first statement was something like, “What if men won’t marry because when they divorce, the ex gets custody?” My reply was, “What if you’re assuming the sole purpose everyone gets married is to procreate and overpopulate the earth?” Then he started MANSPLAINING. He was alternately condescending and insulting. I could tell that he’s been hating on women for a very long time and participating in these “manosphere” groups and picking up their vocabulary. At one point he told me I must be “thick” if I didn’t understand what he was saying. I had restated his argument as “Marriage = children = divorce = custody.” He also pulled up some statistics saying that men work harder and longer than women (not taking into account, of course, that the imaginary children he was so worried about would be taken care of first by his imaginary wife – meaning, if the imaginary children got sick at school, the imaginary wife is traditionally the first one called if she can be reached to pick them up from school, therefore she misses work. We were also missing a chart that allotted time for each spouse for household chores like laundry, cleaning and yard work. Guys, the work doesn’t end when you leave your job). Then he started using the ultimate phrase that is the favorite of all white men from ages 18-60, and that is “strawman.” It didn’t matter what I said, he made sure that became a regular part of the exchange. Then he started calling me pet names (adding to the condescension), so of course, I used them right back. At one point I said something like, “Oh, Bunny, it will be okay. I’m sure some women will worship you – or at least you will tell them they do.”

A third man jumped in. My guess is that he is, again, white and probably around age 47. He said he would never ask “her” because if they got divorced, she would get custody of the kids and he would be ruined financially. He did not use any punctuation. Basically, his argument was the same as the 27-year-old’s: Marriage = children = divorce = custody (with a little child support thrown in). My guess is that he has already procreated with a long-term girlfriend and works at a job that he greatly dislikes; he’s one step away from living in mama’s basement.

A fourth kid (again, maybe 19-22) jumped in and said to me, “You’re a fucking retard.”

A fifth guy cutely said I just needed to get shagged. The 27-year-old agreed, then crowed about how happy he was being a white guy living in Asia (thereby revealing his oh-so-common fetish for Asian women as complacent sexual servants).

So a couple of accounts were reported for being abusive. Keep in mind I didn’t know these guys before they jumped my shit for including the hashtag #feminism. I wasn’t hanging out on the hashtags they use to talk about how stupid women are. They came over to my side to call me an idiot and a retard.

Today a friend sent an article without knowing what had transpired on Twitter. It very well could have been written about these guys. Why it resonates so deeply with me is because it seems to be EVERY man I encounter on OKCupid: not a single one I have interacted with has been interested in a relationship and commitment; rather, they want to fuck as many women as they can, and they are constantly on the lookout for a better choice. It happened most recently with Nashville, and with the guy who is currently separated and probably going to go back to his wife, and with countless others before them. Motherfucking internet.

“The systematic, quantified pursuit of women tends to make men bitter and resentful.”

This statement was written by the author of “The Game” as well as the most recent book, “The Truth: An Uncomfortable Book About Relationships.” He’s a male who has fallen into the trap of fucking around and always looking for the next best thing, never placing any value on the person he is with, and he has fought his way out of that harmful thinking multiple times. There’s a whole subset of vocabulary used in the manosphere. I invite you to read the article below. It’s the most enlightening thing I’ve read in a very long time – mostly because I realize that it’s not my imagination, and that men are actually congregating and deciding to be heartless, nasty, promiscuous, belittling, dissatisfied, condescending, derogatory and abusive. As was pointed out in the article, all of them have missed the conclusion of each book where the writer talks about how all of that behavior is destructive to the man (and women).

As one of the guy’s grandmothers pointed out, “We’re women too.” Women are not anonymous islands; we are just as interconnected as men in our roles in this society. We are mothers, daughters, aunts, granddaughters, friends. Violence carried out on women affects ALL women. It’s not okay to punch your girlfriend and then turn around and kiss your mother.

It’s a long article, but I promise you, it’s absolutely worth the read from beginning to end:

http://nymag.com/thecut/2016/01/jared-rutledge-pickup-artist-c-v-r.html#

As a side note, no one – male or female – joined in this conversation to speak up and say, “Hey, it’s not okay to call her “thick” or a fucking retard or say she just needs some dick.”

Digging for Gold

This morning, when I retrieved my mail while I was waiting for my sister and her husband to arrive, I received a notice from the Social Security Administration regarding my disability appeal. They said:

*You have the ability to stand and walk without assistance. (That’s a blatant lie – I use my cane for everything.)
*You have the ability to use your hands and arms to perform tasks. (Apparently it’s not a requirement for me to see what I’m doing.)
*You are able to get along with other people for short periods of time. (It’s called Minnesota Nice, bitches.)

“We do not have sufficient vocational information to determine whether you can perform any of your past relevant work. However, based on the evidence in the file, we have determined that you can adjust to other work.”

What would be really helpful is if they included a list of employers who had job offers for me and would not require me to be upright at any time. I can’t see well enough to travel to a location outside of my home, and most employers at least want an interview. So their insistence that I work “somewhere” is pretty weak, considering they don’t have an prospects lined up for me. (I don’t want to hear, “That’s how they do it.” I know they’re assholes.)

The next step is for my attorney to file a request for a hearing, which I understand takes 12-15 months to occur. In the meantime I’ll continue to go to doctor visits and try to find someone who can put a name on this disease and tell me what to expect.

This morning I went to the surgeon’s office at the U of MN to have my wound checked. When he put a fair amount of pressure on it, I started yelping, which led him to believe that there is still some pockets of pus hanging out back there.

Rather than going through the process of shooting me up with Lidocaine and slicing down deeper and purging out more junk, the surgeon took the stick end of a swab and used that to dig around in my wound – think of it as a meat tenderizer, he just kinda made hamburger out of my flesh – without any topical numbing whatsoever. I broke out in a sweat and I had tears rolling down my face. I knew I had to lay still but I was also fighting to get away from him and just make the PAIN STOP.

He said he was stepping out for a few minutes to allow the bleeding to die down; about 10 minutes and a good, sobbing cry later, his nurse came in to re-dress the wound. I’m glad I had that time to myself.

 

 

Can You Hear Me Now?

I recorded a 20-minute interview with Daniel (“Danny”) Levine about this blog and this crazy life. I’ve only been here for six months and already the Minnesota accent is creeping back in. There were a couple of times where the sound dropped, but you get the general idea.

Paper Doll

Warning: Read at your own risk. Adult situations discussed.

Okay, so we know about Mr. Friday Night and his toe and pantyhose fetish. I did him a solid and dressed up and painted my toenails to his specifications. It wasn’t that big of a deal as far as fetishes go – not like he asked me to shear a sheep so we could screw on some real lambswool.

Another guy on OKCupid caught my eye. I was actually looking forward to chatting with him because according to the algorithm, we answered over 90% of our questions the same (or similar enough). His profile had enough funny stuff to show that he had a good sense of humor, and we had a love of the arts, board games and museums in common. Pretty promising, right? So I struck up a conversation with him, and during the course of chatting, I discovered he was a brass player. I’m going to christen him Gabriel.

Gabriel wasn’t very forthcoming with info about himself when I would ask him open-ended questions. He would give me one or two-word answers, or it would take him a long time to answer. Then he started dipping his toe into the sex pond, and he couldn’t stop talking.

At first Gabriel wanted to know if I liked to cuddle, and I answered yes. Then he started asking me about my favorite sexual acts. I informed him that I had a FetLife page and he revealed to me that he did as well, so we checked out each others’ pages. Gabriel then confessed to me that he wasn’t really single, like his profile said – he was separated, and he claimed that he was living with his parents and his wife and kids were living in the house. However, he assured me that there was no going back and that divorce was a sure thing. We talked more about our likes and dislikes, and Gabriel admitted that he had only been intimate with three women. My number is nowhere near his – I mean, I have never been married, and for the majority of my adulthood I haven’t been in a relationship. We had a chat about STDs.

Eventually we worked out a date night. At first it was on the premise of cuddling and a movie. Then it evolved into him asking if we could do certain things. Gabriel also specified what he would like me to wear – which included a skirt, pantyhose and heels. Luckily for him I had gotten two pairs of pantyhose because of Mr. Friday Night, so I could accommodate that request. I told Gabriel that if his penis was going anywhere near me, he had to tell me his last name.

The first time we got together was very nice. We did cuddle, and we both got some action. He reminded me a lot of the guy who plays Kelly Severide on the show “Chicago Fire,” though a bit beefier. When we were done messing around, we laid in bed and laughed and talked, and Gabriel did his impression of Christopher Cross/Michael McDonald/Peter Cetera, which he admitted sounded like the same guy. We discussed his frustration at not being able to find a job that matched his degree, and I offered to put some feelers out with my friends. It’s just the sort of exchange you’d expect with friends with benefits, which is what I assumed this would be, since I couldn’t go on real dates with him.

The second time he came over, Gabriel asked if I could do some very specific things he wanted to try that he had listed on his Fet page. I will just be clear and say that it was stuff he wanted me to do to him, not with him. Gabriel also asked me if I could wear a specific undergarment, and since I had it in my possession already, I obliged. He asked me if I would ever try some of the things that he wanted to, including three-or-moresomes and anal sex, and I told him I had tried them – many times – and I wouldn’t do them anymore. First, I’m not attracted to women. Second, my health problems extend to my bowels and anal sex is painful. So keep in mind that this conversation about my hard limits happened face to face. Gabriel left after what he wanted to happen happened. I gave him a smooch and told him it was okay, he’d get me the next time.

Between the second and third dates, we chatted via text a few times, but it was only late at night, and he would only talk about sex. Gabriel would ask things like, “Do you ever just walk around your apartment naked for no reason?” I told him no, it was never for no reason – usually I was changing clothes or hopping in the shower. Then he would ask me if I was playing with myself. I get weary of being asked the same questions every time a guy talks to me, so I stopped playing along – I didn’t pretend that I was doing that just to make him happy. I even reminded him a couple of times that I was a whole person, not just interested in sexual acts. I mean, for Pete’s sake, we had a lot of common interests.

For our third get-together I didn’t have to wear any specific clothing, thank goodness. We messed around (no p-in-the-v, but honestly, that’s not the only sex act as far as I am concerned), and had another talk about my hard limits. Gabriel said that the next time he came over, he thought it would be nice to just watch a movie, and I agreed.

Gabriel’s texts became further spaced out; sometimes I would send him a quick note to joke about something that popped up in the news that we had discussed. He would only text me to ask me if I was playing with myself. Then he started only asking me one word at a time: “Anal?” “FFM?” “Swallow?” My tolerance level is pretty low, especially if I have to repeat myself. I know what guys think, which is that if they ask the same question enough times, eventually they will wear us women down into agreeing to do stuff. After I said no, Gabriel had the balls to tell me that maybe I would like that stuff if I tried it – as if our numbers were reversed and I had had three partners, and he had…not three.

I finally texted him back to say, “Look, I have tried what you have listed, and I’m not going to do it.” Then I told him, “I feel like we get along well enough, but now you’re listing stuff that we have talked about that I’ve already told you that I am not interested in revisiting. I don’t want to hold you back if you want to find someone to help you check these things off your list.” Gabriel hates anything that is not “Minnesota Nice,” meaning he would have preferred me to agree to do these things to fulfill his porn-driven fantasies, or to lie to him and tell him that I would do them eventually. So Gabriel has cut off all communication to me.

My prediction for Gabriel: He and his wife are going to resume their marriage “for the sake of the kids” after he has checked everything off his list. And they’re going to hate each other.

I have been chatting with another guy from OKCupid who had actually hit me up on FetLife first. Here’s the kicker: he has a foot fetish too. So one of the first things he asked me to wear if we met is a skirt, pantyhose and heels.

My only conclusion I can come to is the reason these poor, deprived men in Minnesota crave heels and pantyhose is because it’s thirty below zero all of the time and it’s not safe to walk in heels in snow and ice. Snow boots are decidedly less sexy.

Please enjoy this song by one of my favorite singers, Rachael Yamagata. Every time a man asks me to dress up to his specifications, I feel like a paper doll.

The Weirdness Of You

Let your freak flag fly.

The hardest thing to do is to find someone who loves your weirdness.

This week I initiated another person into FetLife. My Friday date has a pantyhose and toe fetish and before coming over, he put in very specific requests for dark red toenail polish and nude pantyhose/stockings. I asked him if he had a profile on Fet. He had to look it up! I would not be surprised if he suddenly appeared. However, his fetish does not seem to be hardcore – he enjoys other acts as well, thank goodness. Main reason: I’m not a foot model. In fact, some have called my feet “Flintstone feet,” not exactly drool-worthy. All of this week I have been soaking, scrubbing and grinding away calluses because I was very aware that these toes could end up in his mouth – and they did.

As far as fetishes go, his is pretty harmless. However, I still had to accommodate him and find pantyhose and nail polish. I didn’t give him a list of anything that I required. But so far, he has won points with me because he isn’t telling me that I’m not doing “enough” to get better, or making me feel like a loser for not being able to work or really, just leave the apartment for more than 30 minutes. He also didn’t freak out when I told him that I had to wear wigs. That one is a big one! The real test will be to see if he sticks around and/or comes back again in the near future.

Something strange is happening with my body. I’ve been dealing with these crazy symptoms since my shunt failed on April 10th, but for the past three days without changing my medications, diet or supplements, I have been able to be upright for hours. HOURS. Like a normal person. I’m still having some issues with vertigo, but the pressure isn’t so strong on my brain that my face becomes paralyzed like it usually does when I’ve been upright for 30 minutes.

I honestly don’t know if the change is because it’s not terribly hot or cold. I don’t know if it’s because the humidity is relatively low for this part of the country at this time. I don’t know if it’s because the air pressure is at a certain level and is holding steady. I don’t have a clue.

But because I don’t feel like I’m dying, I suddenly have energy – at least, I’m back at fibromyalgia-style energy. I feel guilty for not getting in my car, which is currently being stored at my sister’s house and being prepared to be sold, to go to a concert, or the library, or the grocery store. I want to go out on dates like a real person! I have even thought about working because when I have this energy zinging through me, I hate to be idle. (Honestly, that’s what gets me into trouble. I either get really vocal on Facebook or I chat up a bunch of men on OKCupid.) But I don’t know why this is happening, and I don’t know how long it’s going to last.

My reminder of that is the notice I got from Metro Mobility letting me know I am eligible to use it until May of 2019. It’s a service set up through the bus system in the Minneapolis/St. Paul area for people with disabilities who can’t use regular buses. Normally I can only take the bus if my aunt rides with me and takes care of the fare as well as keeping an eye out for our stop because I can’t see well enough. I have to ride the short bus now. Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful for this service. I just really like my independence and, you know, being able to see, and using this emphasizes just how handicapped I am and what I have had to give up.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

In another nod to normalcy, I just got a message on OKCupid from a guy who is seven years younger than me who claims to be “long and thick just for [me].” I did specify in my profile that I didn’t want to receive any penis pictures. At least he stuck to the rules and described it instead?? I replied and told him his DNA determined his length and girth, and has nothing to do with me.

Three Is A Crowd

For the past, oh, two decades or so, men have been trying to talk me into three-or-more-somes. I’ve been accused of turning down the requests without knowing what I like, which is completely not true. I like men. Specifically, I like one man at a time. It’s tough to believe, I know – with the easy access to free porn on the internet (Pornhub, Youporn, XHamster, etc.), it’s pretty much shoved in your face as a consumer of sex that if you are a woman, you should want to fuck both men and women, and it should be enough for the women in porn that the men and/or viewers get off on what they are doing, not the woman who is actually going through the experience. I also blame the phenomenon that seemed to start right around age 23-ish for me, which was that women began making out with each other on the dance floor and in bars if they knew that they could gain attention from men. I’ve heard the theory that women are a lot more fluid in their sexual preferences than men are, so maybe they enjoy making out with their female friends, but I know that getting attention is a huge payoff. The problem with that is that men are now conditioned to look for that in every woman they meet, so if a woman balks at that demand, then the man moves on to the next tasty morsel.

My first live-in boyfriend was nerd before nerd was cool. He was also hooked on porn and had had some bisexual girlfriends before dating me, and he hoped to convert me into inviting others into our sex life. We even went to a swingers’ club one night when we were still living in Albuquerque. It was a bust though – not many people were there, and the three men who hit on me were in their 50’s and slightly inebriated. The bigger problem, though, is that I wasn’t ready to bring someone else in, but I was trying to please him.

A man I fooled around with was, well, very good at what he did, so he probably could have talked me into anything. He told me that he had a buddy from the gym who would be willing to do a threesome. I was tempted because it wasn’t the usual request of going at it with another woman, but I had some hard limits that I wasn’t sure would be honored because I didn’t know jack about the other guy. I don’t ever like to feel outnumbered, whether it’s with trying to wrangle toddlers or penises or anything else that has the ability to turn an experience immediately to shit.

A Greek guy I dated in Ohio talked me and another couple into a post-hot tub rendezvous, but that quickly soured for me because all my boyfriend would talk about was how hot the other woman was, and if he was taking care of her, she would have orgasmed immediately. He got his chance and he was proven wrong. (Pro tip: If you’re going to tell your girlfriend over and over how other women are prettier than her, don’t expect hero worship.)

Through a social group that I belonged to in Phoenix, among the many people I met, I became friends with a husband and wife with a young child. The husband was a nurse at the hospital where I volunteered, and we met while I was in my first year back at school to earn my RN degree. The wife provided writing and grammar services on the side, so I had some things in common with both of them. About six months into the friendship the couple explained that they had an open marriage and they were both interested in me. After I told them that I was the straightest girl they knew, they seemed to accept it and we continued our friendship. One night after the husband and I were hanging out with a group of 10 or so at a bar, he propositioned me and told me that his wife understood, and that he had her permission to have sex with me. I thought to myself, “Okay, I haven’t tried this before where everything is out in the open, so I’ll give it a whirl.” The husband asked if he could have some privacy in my living room to call his wife so they could talk about it again before anything happened, so I was not privy to the conversation. When he joined me in my bedroom, he told me that he told her what was happening and made sure she was okay with it. Can you guess what happened? She wasn’t okay with it. She called me, and then she called him, and after questioning me and him thoroughly, she determined he lied to both of us. Oh, yeah, and he was also screwing another married woman on the side. And the married woman he was screwing had another guy on the side. Are you keeping up with the math? There were at least six of us that had to go in for STD testing. And even though she figured out that the husband was lying through his teeth and I hadn’t maliciously tried to insert myself into their (oh, surprise – not-so-open) marriage, she told everyone in our social group that I was a homewrecker. I ended up dropping out of the group only a week after all of this was discovered. I had made a lot of friends and was attending weekly events and suddenly I was out.

A little older and wiser, I’ve seen many polyamorous relationships thanks to FetLife. I haven’t seen one group of three or more people who have successfully navigated love and sex without someone having to leave, usually in tears. Whether or not a relationship works strongly depends on everyone’s level of comfort with various dynamics. For example, are you okay with your man being a “pony” for a mistress as long as he doesn’t have sex with her? Are you open to being one of three wives to one man? What if your man kisses every woman he meets on the lips while you stand there and it’s obvious to even the casual bystander that it takes a little piece out of your heart every time? And probably the worst scenario is being singled out while everyone else bands together in a group that is supposed to be all-inclusive – it can be very lonely and traumatizing to be ganged up on.

What works for me is to make a relationship work between me and one other person, because damn, even that isn’t easy. I want less strife and heartbreak in my life.