Since becoming single again this past year, I’ve been called a ‘Cougar’ - which I hate, and a MILF.  When I discovered MILF stood for “Mother I’d Like to F***”, I laughed.  Though some might find it offensive, I found it rather endearing:  I imagined these luscious, muscley young men looking at me with awe and innocence in their eyes.  How cute they wanted a ‘teacher.’  *grin. 

As my dating adventures continued, I crossed into “Young-Man Territory” a few times.  Mentally, I found these relationships very limited - we weren’t on the same page of life whatsoever.  But physically, mmmmm… that was another story.  Not only did they have stamina and the ‘look’ to keep me afire, they had a willingness to please, to learn, and become a better lover.

And then one day a question struck me:  Why do men have cute nicknames for women like MILF and we don’t have any for men?   Are we too polite?  Have we lost our sense of humor when it comes to sex?  Or is the title ‘boyfriend’ or ‘husband’ all we’re comfortable with?

I then began rethinking the word MILF - for some reason it was bugging me.  Digging deeper I realized it was because it made the man into the Hunter and the woman into the Prey.  And in my young man relationships, that was NOT the dynamic: THEY were the prey, and I was the HUNTRESS.

From that day forward I thus proclaimed a new honorary name for these delightful specimens of flesh: SMILF - Service Male I’d Like To F***.  It reverses the power scheme AND it sounds cute, kind of like an adorable little smurf.

But WAIT!  Hold your horses.  Not just ANY man can become a  SMILF; this is high-status stuff, something that must be earned.  Three primary criteria must be met:

1)  At LEAST one orgasm must go to the woman before him during every encounter

2) If any extra large ejaculation occurs on the woman’s part, he will change the sheets without fuss, and

3) NO SMALL PENISES ARE ALLOWED.

:)  God love you SMILFS.

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Over a year ago, when my best friend Hali and I found ourselves newly separated and back out in the dating trenches, we kept hearing the term “Friends With Benefits.”   We both liked the sound of it and decided it was something we wanted.  After all, we weren’t ready for serious, but we wanted to have sex.  Thus a sexual ‘friendship’ verses a love relationship seemed the perfect alternative.

But to this day, such an arrangement has been elusive.  And Hali maintains that FwB is a ‘myth’.  This is what we’ve discovered:

1) one person can end up more emotionally invested in the relationship than the other and wants ‘more’

2) no matter how open minded people proclaim themselves to be, they have a hard time knowing that the other person is still actively dating and potentially having sex with someone else

4) the ‘rules of play’ are grey and ambiguous - is she supposed to wait until he calls her?  Or vice versa?  Or is it open-ended?  And at what time of day/night does it apply?  And how many times can he/she says “I’m busy”, (which is rejection) , before the other person feels disrespected and bows out?

5) the ‘friendship’ part is underdeveloped.  Can they watch movies together or go out for dinner too?  Or is it strictly sexual and only to transpire at one person’s house?  What are the boundaries for sharing other aspects of their lives: work, family, love/sex, interests, dreams etc.?

I’m not so sure I’d go so far as to say the FwB arrangement is a ‘myth’ like Hali does.  Cause I’ve heard men say they’ve had it.   I guess I should have asked them more questions about it - dug a bit deeper and found out what it really looked and felt like.   Cause maybe a level of communication is required in order for it to be fulfilling.  Or there again, maybe a level of DETACHMENT predominates the arrangement, and the word “friend’ needs new definition.

Other Articles:

I’m no “MILF”. You’re the “SMILF”.  Goodbye Husband, Hellooo G-spot!  One-Night Stands: Qualifiers & Disqualifiers

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In my previous blog, I wrote about how I’d been chatting with a man who unexpectedly told me he has herpes.  I was trying to decide if I should even bother to meet him in person…

Early Friday evening arrived.  (I was suppose to meet him later)  All dressed up and feeling fabulous, I went, as planned, over to my girlfriend’s house for a vision board party with some of my great girlfriends.  And as the wine flowed and we dove into chocolate cupcakes, my best friend Hali asked me:  “SO…are you going to meet him later?” 

I smiled and shook my head.  “No,”  I replied.  “I figure it’s just not worth the risk.  Especially given where my head is at these days… If I were ready for serious I’d probably consider it.  But I just want great sex and freedom; not complications.”

I shifted in my bar stool and shook my head.  “I’m stll irritated though.  I finally meet a guy that I’m kind of into, AND he’s a Dom, but he damn well has herpes!  Am I going to have to wait ANOTHER year before I get to explore this Dominant/submissive stuff or what?  It’s frustrating!  Good looking Doms don’t come along every day.”

She replied matter-of-factly:  “You will meet another Dom Delaine - one who doesn’t have herpes.  I think the universe is just testing you.”

“Testing me?”  I replied whimsically.  “Or teasing me?”

“NO, you were being tested.  This scenario is no different from the kinds of tests you faced last year when you were running around with your heart on your sleeve desperately trying to find love.”

“What?”  I asked confused.  This made no sense to me.  Sure, when I first got divorced my attitude towards dating and sex was way different than it is now.  Sure I was frantically trying to fill up the whole in my heart and looking for ‘any’ man to give me a sense of self-worth.  But those days were long past; that insecure Delaine had grown a backbone.

Hali continued:  “Don’t you see?  It has everything to do with settling for less than you deserve.  A year ago you would have easily lost your Self in another relationship had you been given the chance because that was your habit - you did it all throughout your marriage and would have done the same again. If you’d decided to date this man with herpes and put you health at risk, you’d have been settling for less again. ”  She put her wine glass down at looked me in the eyes:  “At the core, this situation is no different:  it’s about believing you deserve the best and not settling for less.  You were being tested.”

I sat there moth agape.  Slowly,I began nodding my head; she was right. 

 Hali continued:  “The universe continues to test us Delaine.  No matter how far we think we’ve come, there are deep issues that we confront over and over and over again to make sure we REALLY got it.”  She smiled.  “And you ‘got’ this one; you passed the test.  Congratulations.”

I then spent the next six hours having the time of my life, chatting and laughing with my girlfriends.  “Yeah,”  I thought as looked around the room of my friends.  “He was a test.  And I did pass.  And this time tonight with my girlfriends was what I really needed, NOT a date with him.”

Little did I know that at 12:30 a.m. when I finally arrived home, the universe was going to ‘reward me’ for my choice.  But that’ll be my next blog:)

Other Articles:  Psych Yourself Up & Go Out Anyways!,  Why Women Get Divorced!  (video),  Survival Mode: Existing Post-Infidelity & Divorce

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By the end of her marriage, she’d given up trying to have a G-spot orgasm; she thought maybe anatomically she couldn’t have one.  But one night, post-divorce, that G-bomb came out of nowhere:  KA-POWEE!  It was a back-arching, soul-screaming Hallelujah! 

Afterwards however, she was freaked out – AND embarrassed.  Cause it happened with a man she hardly knew.  

Why Him? she wondered.  More importantly, why NOW?  Why hadn’t it happened with her husband, someone she loved, or at least someone she’d dated more than twice?

She figured age was a contributing factor; she was closing in on forty after all.  Or maybe it happened because she’d had kids; perhaps something got shook loose in her uterus during childbirth?  Or maybe, just maybe, it was because she was more in tune with my body.  But that made no sense whatsoever – she was still reeling from her ex’s infidelity when it happened, not eating, not sleeping, not exercising…

But then a new thought zoomed in for landing:  “Maybe the why didn’t matter. It happened when it happened just because she was ready.  Maybe she was simply meant to experience it for the ecstatic pleasure it gave her – period.” 

All she knew for sure was that her body’s new talent thrilled her.  If she’d remained married, where, by the end, her sexuality felt confined behind cold bars, she’d never have experienced anything close to this.  Moreover, the timing of it suggested that there was more to her, more to her body, more to life than she’d ever imagined.  What else what might life post-divorce unleash in her?

Other Articles:   The #1 thing I wish someone had told me about divorce,  Divorce Pain:Alone Without Kids for the First Time, My Ex Scowls.  And I Smile - For our Kids.

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