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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I’ve been talking to a man for the past few weeks via email and over the phone.  And surprisingly, I’ve grown to quite like him (a surprise since I don’t tend to get excited about men beyond sex these days.)  He’s smart, handsome, spiritually on the same page as me, and most importantly, we simply ’connect.’ 

But there’s one other reason why my attraction to him is strong: he’s a Dom.  Yeah, as in Dominant / submissive.  I’ve only ever played with D/s once and it was over a year ago.   But it is an aspect of myself and my sexuality that continues to titilize AND frustrate me.   My body melts at the thought of where it may lead me, but my brain argues that nothing in real life could equal such fantasies.  So I’ve tried to shove it down and ignore it …until I started talking to him.

But two nights ago as we talked on the phone, he told me has herpes.  He said he’s had it for twenty years and has only ever given it to one other person: his ex-wife.  He says his outbreaks are rare and very mild when they occur; they’re nothing like the gory photos on pamphlets in STD clinics.  “If something sexual were to happen between us, you don’t have to worry about contracting it,” he said firmly.  “I know my body, I can feel an outbreak coming on, and I’d know not to have sex with you.”

I was pretty freaked out.  My brain rushed to retrieve its limited data on herpes and assess what my chances were of catching it if we had protected sex.  At the same time, however, I felt disappointed and kind of mad:  I’d finally met an interesting man, who was ALSO a Dom,  but he damn well had herpes!

So now I’m thinking I won’t meet him at all; we’d planned to meet for our first date this Friday night.  I’m trying to make a rational, smart decision here.  And my brain says that I don’t want to be involved with someone with herpes unless it’s in a long term relationship.  And even though I like this man, I doubt I’m ready for serious. Even though I bet we’d have mind-blowing sex, it’s not worth a lifetime of battling an STD.    Actually, the more I think about it, the more I realize that my fear of contracting it would seriously hinder our sexual enjoyment, not to mention how much time I’d waste worrying about it afterwards.

It’s just so darn frustrating.  Finding a man I connect with is one hard task, finding one that is also a Dom is excruciating.  But I know I’ve come way too this past year and half to take a potentially harmful risk.  (sigh)  He’s just another man Delaine.  Move on.

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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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So something happened this past weekend that she’s been hesitant to vocalize.   Why?  Cause she did something awful to a man.  No - like REALLY mean.  She thinks she might be going through an anger phase…?  Nonetheless, she’s putting it ‘out there’ cause she needs to be honest in all respects.

She’s dated this guy intermittently over the past five months.   They quickly became friends when their kids began playing together, and it didn’t take long for their mutual attraction to develop. Nonetheless, she clearly told him from the get-go that she didn’t want anything serious - this was just a casual friendship with a bit of (hopefully) great sex.  He eagerly said he was totally gun ho.

The first time they had sex, his penis was flaccid out of the starting gate.  “I always get nervous with new women,” he said sheepishly.   “And truth is, you’re way wilder than I’d expected.”  She smiled and pretended it was no big deal, choosing instead to get to work and make him rise up.  Rocket readied for launch, they had fun.

Four out of the next five times they were together, however, his penis was still flaccid at the start.  Frustrated, she brought it up with a couple of girlfriends over dinner.  “It happens to every man at some point,” they reminded her.  Guiltily, she shoved her annoyance inside.

But fast forward to last Sunday.  She was without kids, super pent up, and her body was screaming for sex.  No - like SCREAMING.  So how thrilled was she when he unexpectedly paid her a house visit.

But once AGAIN, as things heated up, she ravenously went down below only to find his limp, small penis.  “Oh for F*** sake!”  She thought angrily as she went about ‘things.’  But suddenly all her passion down below turned to fire in her chest; it was pushing on her throat.  She was either going to smack him, yell at him, or say something…

Climbing up on top of him,  she looked him straight in the eyes and said with complete disgust:  “Why in the hell are you always flaccid?”

Shocked,   he stammered: “I don’t know.  I mean, I’m turned on.  I just get nervous…and tired…You could make me hard…?”

To which she coldly replied:  “Well it’s a complete TURN OFF. ”  At which point, she got up, went downstairs, and ignored the sound of him upstairs making his way out.

Downstairs in her office, she paced and fumed.  She was horrified with what she had just done and yet she was so mad!  He’d SAID he justed want sex, he’d SAID he could ’bring it on’ and ‘rock her world,’ yet when push came to shove, he totally crumbled - not just once, but FIVE TIMES!  

She knew she’d treated him repulsively - truly, that was a really low-blow.  “But for God’s sake,” she thought.  “If the fire’s too hot, don’t damn well try and play with it!  Cause I don’t care about you bringing me chocolates and phoning to say you’re thinking of me, I just wanted SEX.  What part of that did you not understand?”

Her mind is totally at war over the whole episode.  It’s like a Good Girl/Bad Girl morality debate.  And even though she’s since called him to apologize profusely, a part of her feels no remorse.  In fact, that part of her actually feels satisfied for having spoken her mind.

Other Articles:  Psych Yourself Up & Go Out Anyways!,  Divorce Pain: Alone Without Kids for the First Time,   Disempowering Marital Sex

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Last night, I had the opportunity to go home with a lovely young man from a bar.  I’d been out drinking and dancing with some girlfriends and as the night wore on, this stay-at-home mom’s engine got all revved up:  “Just look at all those shoulders, backs, and arms,” my body screamed. “HELL-O!”  So how pleased I was when a 30-year-old, soon-to-be cop bought me a drink and zoomed in for the kill.

Now I’ve nothing against the concept of sex without love - especially since my heart isn’t up for grabs at his point post-divorce.  And I know I have NEEDS, sexual needs, that are strong, healthy and in need of no apology.

Nonetheless, I rejected this young man.  I came close…but I couldn’t quite thrust myself across the line.  In the aftermath, I wondered, “What stopped me?  What qualifying rules have I in place, maybe even subconsciously, that deliver my final yes or no answers?” 

Here’s what I’ve since come up with: 

The first thing that influences my decision is time.  How much of it, or little of it, have we spent together during the evening?  Even though I only want him for one night, I need time to access him, solidify a decision, and feel good about it. 

In last night’s case, he didn’t approach me till 15 minutes before closing.  And even though he seemed smart, well-spoken and very attractive, the clock was ticking loudly; it seemed too much like a booty call -  the ‘2 o-clock shuffle.’  I like my one-night stands to have a dash of magic: I want fun, intensity, connection, maybe even all three.  NOT just any “body.”

Secondly, I look for signs he’ll be a skillful, generous lover.  Oh, I know you can’t tell a book by it’s cover, but I’m very attune to languaging and energetic chemistry.  I look for actual phrases like, “I want to touch you, lick you, all over,” or anything that shows sex isn’t just about him.  Last night’s guy didn’t say the right things, even though I offered him the bait.  And ’something’ seemed off (arrogant?) in his demeanor.  I couldn’t take the risk.

My best friend says if a man talks a lot about his enjoyment of blow jobs, without any mention of reciprocation, it’s a flashing red sign that he’s a selfish lover.   I, personally, have zero tolerance for men who have weird hangups about oral sex.  I adore a man’s body from head to toe and expect the same thing in return.  I’m not saying a man should be pushed into doing things he doesn’t want to do.  But I AM OK with knowing and saying what I like.  And in a one-nighter scenario, I want a smorgasbord - many helpings of whatever I want - not just a one-course meal that may or may not be large enough to satisfy me. 

Thirdly, I’m assessing the ‘morning after.’  How will I get home?  Is it worth my time and energy?  And what kinds of concessions is he making?  In last night’s case, he lived WAY too far away and getting home would have been a pain.  Had he been older and more mature, perhaps he’d have known to say, “I’ll drive you home in the morning,” or “Let’s go get a hotel room close by and I’ll spring.”  This would have shown ‘extra effort’ on his part and ultimately, made him him more appealing.  It gets back to my needing the night to have a ’dash of magic’  - I want to feel like he just HAS to have me, whatever the cost, because our chemistry is so intense; we both want the night to go on and on…

I’m sure there are other qualifiers that affect my final decisions.  And over time, I hope to exhume them.  I just find it funny that even though I’m ‘having sex like a man,’ my ‘testing’ and thinking show I’m still waaaaay more complicated than men.  Cause for the majority of men, a booty call is just a booty call and based on physical attraction alone.  Right?   There again, why waste time wondering how MEN are programmed.  This stage of my life is all about ME, my sexuality included.

Other related articles:  I’m no “MILF.” You’re the “SMILF!”,   Should I Pursue Casual Sex More Regularly?,   Does Penis Size Matter?

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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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Two years into Sam’s seven-year marriage, she started hating having sex with her now-ex-husband. Sex became something she ‘got over with’ to keep the peace and keep him happy. And he wanted it a lot - every day, if not twice, even though she was oftentimes pregnant, nursing, or up at night with babies/toddlers.

On the flip side, while she was being emotionally bullied/guilted into having sex, another close girlfriend, Tara was being sexually REJECTED by her husband time and time again.

For years, I heard them talk and make excuses/placations for their husbands’ behaviours. They resolutely hung onto their marriages, telling themselves they were happy, that this ‘phase’ would pass, that there were more important things in a marriage than sex, etc etc. They marvelled at how different their situations were - they were at opposite ends of the spectrum: Sam wanted ‘way less,’ Tara wanted ‘way more.’ But one huge commonality existed between them:   both being disempowered by their sex lives.

By Sam handing over her body to her then-husband like it was a plate of chicken, she was handing over her personal power. By not refusing to say ‘no’ when she didn’t want sex, she was squashing her voice, teaching herself her voice was less important than his, AND she was detaching  from her body, which is an extension of her Spiritual Self.

By Tara being sexually backhanded by her ex - whether it was after a wonderful evening out, after a night of cuddling on the couch, or during a seduction scene she had carefully dressed for, she, too, had handed over personal power. His ongoing rejection translated into, “You’re not desirable - as a woman or a person.”

Now my girlfriends are both divorcing. And clearly, they’ve realized they have healing to do around their sexuality. Thus, they have given themselves permission to explore themselves, their identities, AND their bodies: through sexuality, sensuality and even ‘promiscuity.’  They’re attempting to do this from a higher place, that is, from the perspective that each sexual experience they carefully choose can teach them something about themselves, life, and/or men. They examine how their sexuality ripples into other aspects of their lives. For example, their ability or non-ability to vocalize what they want, and how they deal with selfish/bad lovers. They are exploring new physical pleasures/fantasies, and ‘owning’ their orgasms and pleasure instead of making them strictly contingent upon one man’s love or one man’s sexual prowess. Truly, their sexual Selves seem like a metaphor for the rest of their lives.

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The topic of men’s penis size was brought to my attention YET AGAIN this morning in an article on Fox.com: a new study revealed that French men need the largest condoms in Europe while Greeks get by on the small ones. This study by a German consultancy asked 10,500 men in 25 countries to measure and report their penis. 

Hmmmm. I don’t think I’ll look at Frenchmen the same again. *grin.

After being married to the same man for so many years, I was surprised when I started dating/having sex after divorce as to the size difference in men. Particularly when my first lover, who was 6ft 4 and 240 lbs,  had a penis the length of my thumb.

Since then, I’ve had a few other lovers. And what did they have in common? Why almost all of them had very small penises! My girlfriends found it hilarious, and, amidst giggles, told me I needed to cut out a picture of a big penis and put it on my Vision Board.

Now I know a man can’t control his length or girth, just as women can’t decide their breast size. But for the first time in my life, I found myself examining and judging a man’s tackle; I hadn’t realized they varied  so much.  Prior to being married, I was so preoccupied with the emotional side of sex and making them like me, I never gave pause to second-guess or admire their equipment.  Nor had I ever entertained the idea of having a ‘preference.’

Oh women are such polite creatures - I know some of you are probably frowning, thinking how DARE I come out and state such things.  Especially since I’m a divorced mom.

But I honestly can’t say I’ve ever, while getting naked with a man for the first time, stood there hoping, “PLEASE have a small penis. Oh, PLEASE have a small penis.”

I used to say penis size didn’t matter.  But I also didn’t have a real basis for comparison  - my sexual experiences were too limited; my emotional entanglement and my own insecurities were too great.

But my sexuality is evolving - in part because I’ve given myself permission to explore my sexuality at this stage post-divorce and to learn about myself through each well-thought-out experience. And in my books, ANY kind of ‘evolution’ requires time AND experience.

And so, with my reputation at risk, but my Self intact, I climb to the top of the mountain and scream to World Wide Web: I LOVE AN AVERAGE TO LARGER, THICKER PENIS! And in case there are any French men having a read: J’aime un pénis plus grand, plus épais!

(’Fly’ photo by Stephan Wagner)

Other related articles:   I’m no “MILF.” You’re the “SMILF!”   Should I Pursue Casual Sex More Regularly? , One Night Stands: Qualifiers & Disqualifiers

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