The Afterglow-Or Not; Keeping the Passion Alive, One Closed Bathroom Door At a Time

how beautiful our love isI don’t even know where to begin.

I guess I can start around 17 years ago when I got divorced.

At that time, I decided a few things about my next real relationship. I decided that I would really examine my own self and try to improve. I also decided that the only person that I would clean up after would be a human being whom I gave birth to.

Most importantly I decided that I never, ever….never, ever, ever needed to see my partner on the toilet. I never, ever needed to hear them or smell them. Oh yah. This is a big boundary for me, and my man knows it.

 

With three children in university and college, and all the stresses of merging two lives and two families, let’s just say our communication has been a series of to-do and to-buy lists along with griping about the others living habits. Our intimate communication has been less than five star. In fact, it’s been f-ing horrible.

The long and the short of it is that we committed to re-connecting, and after our hour-of-power-a-la-boudoir, we began to settle in to what I like to refer to as a ‘time of tenderness’. You know what  I mean ladies, when you feel all cuddly and want to talk, and reconnect to the awesome partner you fell in love with. With the bother of passion out of the way, it was clearly time to rekindle our friendship. This is also usually the time that your man falls asleep and you begin hating him again.

So last night, music playing in the background, stretched out feeling blissful, reliving our recent forray into, well, let’s call it the-glorious-climb-to-the-snow-capped-peak…. I awaited my man’s return from our en suite bathroom.

man on toilet

Do not leave the bathroom door open unless you’re sick.

In the candlelit quiet, my heart eased a bit, and I actually felt like a woman, not a domestic workhorse. From the bathroom;

“Hey – do you like The Killers?”

In my head; Sweet Jesus, does the man have a romantic drop of blood in his body?

Out loud; “Yes.”

He then passes gas, tinkles and says, “So do I.”

In my head; Brilliant.  He’s perched on the toilet with the door open. The romance is, officially dead.

…and back we go to the reality of life. Poop. Money. Who’s cooking dinner.

It really takes work to keep a spark alive. Trust me, keep the pilot light lit, it makes it a lot easier.

Remember that you’re friends, and always, always, always, close the bathroom door.

 

 

 

 

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That’s a Mighty Fine Driver You Have There Sir: The Un-fore-seen Benefits of Golfing with Your GF

basket-of-golf-ballsToday was a first. The left side of my mid-back is whispering caution to me. It’s rather insistent that tomorrow I may be in some pain. The right side is nodding in agreement.

My sweetie finally took me to the driving range. Brave? Yes. But not brave enough to take me out on a for-real golf course, and who can blame him?

About midway through the ‘jumbo’ bucket of balls, I thought that I had hit him in the back. You see, I made contact with the little white devil, but it took off toward my baby on a trajectory akin to tiles blowing off a space-shuttle. I must have missed his left ear by an inch. For a full two hours, he patiently took me through a range of clubs and tried teaching me the basics, and he didn’t swear once…out loud.

bad golfer

As you all know, I’m incredibly patient. Ok, maybe a teensy-tiny-eensy-weensy-bit patient. Or not. By the time we were chipping,  I held out my hand and let him know I was already an expert and his blathering was unnecessary. My chipping as it turns out, sucks.

My putting is slightly better if I have my arms over my voluptuous breasts, which means the damn club sticks out perpendicular to the ground and I have to bend over like some weirdo with a metal detector on the beach to ‘pendulum’ like my sexy instructor was trying to demonstrate. You see, his breasts are significantly smaller than mine, and penduluming is not such a challenge for him.

I made contact with the ball (most of the time), and if I were aiming 120 degrees to my right, I was dead on target. By the time I finished with the driver, I could really appreciate my man’s talent.

And maybe that’s why I think I’m going to love the game. A woman like me likes a challenge, and some fun. I can’t wait to go again.  Perhaps when my man buys a helmet he’ll take me on another hot driving-range date.

Laugh as you may, it was a great way to spend the afternoon. I’m a strong, confident, capable woman. There are very few things that a man can do that impresses me to the point I’m actually attracted to him because of it.

But today was the day for my man. He was good at it. Like, crazy good. He made it look easy, and I was struggling to even connect.  It made me kinda hot for him, in that grrrrr, you’re a manly-man kind of way.

He doesn’t know it yet, but his patience may just pay off for him two-fold. He may have a willing partner to hit the links with every chance we get, and he may also have a lady who needs to go immediately home for some good lovin’s when we come off the course. All of a sudden, I can appreciate his driver just a little bit more.

Potential: The Alternative Reality

brick-wallDo you ever just get tired of trying to reach someone?

Seriously. There are only so many times  you can explain to someone, ask someone, or try. And then you give up.

Wise women recognize that  before it makes them a raving lunatic.  The problem is, if someone is important enough to try and reach (emotionally), you likely don’t want to give up. You convince yourself that they also want to be reached. You convince yourself of all the good that’s in them. You convince yourself that there’s potential.

Potential is a dangerous word, most often a desperate, unfulfilled hope, and a broken promise that was never really made in the first damn place. . In a word, potential is: dangerous and, quite frankly,  women over 40 don’t have the lifespan left, or the patience to deal with potential. Potential can rob you of a wonderful reality. 

I’m convinced that there are people out there (other fabulous pals and lovers) who won’t make you wait. Who won’t keep you guessing, and won’t leave you fantasizing about potential, because they are living it, in the present moment.

Let’s drop this potential crap and get back to reality shall we darlings?

 

Apathy: The Emotional Equivalent of Wet Firewood

fireplaceLast night we tried desperately to get some good flame action going with  new firewood. What we realized was that the wood had not been cared for in a way that was conducive to the warm glow that we were hoping for.

Lately I’ve had a few conversations with people about their relationships. As always, my sage stance is that any relationship that is neglected will die; like  wet firewood,  an unwatered flower or like a lemon left to wither in the back of the fridge.

Human beings are wired for connection. Yet, in our twisted culture, we are socialized to fear intimacy. Partnership involves emotional risk and vulnerability. After all, if you can’t be vulnerable with your lover, the one person you ought to trust to be naked with body and soul, well, you likely don’t have a very solid connection. Apathy isn’t sexy. Apathy is your old maiden aunt’s dentures and wig-on-the-nightstand-every-night.

Fabulous women like you and I darling are certainly brave enough to be  vulnerable and to ask for the intimacy that we need. We are not needy enough to stay  if our basic needs are neglected and left to, (shall I say?) wilt. Six months ago I went out on a limb and asked for what I needed. Guess what has happened since?  Keep guessing…

If your ‘parnter’ parts leaving you with all of the times that they’re busy and can’t connect, see it for the big, fat, red flag that it is. And then go do whatever the heck it is that you  want to do.  Do not let someone’s lack of passion inspire insecurity or any other shitty feeling. At this age, we’ve all been through too much to waste time living in the land of ambivalence, apathy and pretentious crappola.

Start saying no to waiting around and yes to not giving a damn.

Now go spark up that fire people, whether it be your own innate wildness, or together with your true love. Some say absence makes the heart grow fonder, but  that’s a lazy excuse; out of sight, out of mind sweetcakes. Carry on!

Swing Your Partner ‘Round & ‘Round

square dancingI used to think the term partner was kind of dorky. It was a pretentious term that made me want to gag. Kind of like when someone said, ‘making love’. What the hell?!

Partnership and making love seem to have gotten a lot more sexy as I’ve gotten a lot more mature.

The older we get, the more important it is to connect with someone who understands the values you were raised with and where you come from.

I recently connected with a school chum who has known me since I was a pre-teen. We spent some time talking and  shared a male/female perspective on life, work, and partnership.

Ah, yes. Partnership. The great connection we all seek which satiates the need to have someone witness our lives. Time unravels more quickly as we get closer to the end, and having someone to partner with begins to mean more and more.

Having a partner means having someone to stand as our witness in this world and say,

I see you. I see you for who you are, all you’ve been through and accomplished, and everything you hope to be. I see you.

True partnership is rare. Partnerships involve intertwining two lives to support, uplift and encourage one another. And that comes with the requirement to empathize and love in an active way.  It requires truly caring for someone and putting your kind thoughts and words into action.

You go out the door everyday cheering one another on, and come back together eager to share and plan. If it’s working, both benefit. If it’s not, you feel like you’re not in partnership, but continuing a solo journey through this wild and wonderful blink-of-an-eye that we call life.

True partnership is a dance of communication, support and joyfully participating in not only the exciting, but the mundane aspects of one another’s life.  Ah yes, the mundane. That unsexy, but major part of our time spent here on earth.

Our culture honours the individual and  often people dismiss commitment, thinking that relationship growth will come without effort or deliberate attention. Good luck with that.

Partnerships are living relationships. Nurturing a culture of neglect within a relationship is a bad thing. You know what happens when you neglect living things? They die.

People want partnership but they aren’t willing to do the work. They aren’t willing to communicate, prioritize time and sadly, many people lack empathy. We swing our relationships in stomach-churning circles, instead of lovingly holding them with care and giving them the elements they need to survive.

Tonight it was nice to connect with someone who really understands what it means to be in partnership.

It was nice to know that my values and my heart are not alone in this world, and that someone, somewhere remembers who we were.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Bed As Battlefield & Tempting Invitations

holding handsMore than I hate crying, I hate crying in front of anyone, and that’s exactly what I did. I was in the middle of reprimanding myself for letting my heart win out over my head.

Goodness knows darlings, that fabulous women certainly do not put themselves in precarious emotional situations. Vulnerability is for the weak, and the lord knows we aren’t weak. Delicate maybe, but not weak.

I had fallen into a trap of my own making, having made an exception to one of my rules-of-romantic-engagement. Feeling frustrated, angry, and foolish, tears came, and my stomach knotted. Making my way back from a good-old-fashioned-anxiety-provoked-puke, I decided to turn off my head and try and get some rest.

Seriously, who needs the heartache??? Who needs this shit?

And then the room lit up with the faint light of the magical smartphone. A late message is one of three things in my home; an urgent message from the kiddo, a friend’s cry for help, or an old lover reaching out for whatever-it-is-they-miss-when-they’ve-overindulged.

In this case it was behind door number three. An old lover I’ve known as long as one of my oldest friends. “You have been on my mind. Just wondering how you’re doing and if you’re ok. Let’s get together soon.”

Let’s get together soon you say?  Ooh-la-la.

This little out-of-the-blue text got me to thinking. Really, who does need the heartache? A delightfully romantic date and a steamy romp are always only a phone call away when you’ve reigned over the land of Singledom,  back-up lists, younger men and full-time-on-call lovers longer than any of your gal-pals.  Choose your poison ladies, and they show up on the doorstep with whatever your heart desires, and an appetite for everything that’s deliciously bad for you.

My thoughts turned from reprimanding myself and repeating in head the mean words my sweetheart had uttered and over again, to the various and sundry shenanigans that I had been exquisitely escorted through on the arm of my rather storybook suitors. Not. Too. Shabby.

Keeping close to my side of the bed-turned-battlefield,  I asked myself again, “Who needs this relationship-heartache shit?”
 

 

 

More Chances to Fly & More Places to Fall

vintage-smokingIt seemed like a lifetime ago that I lay awake in the dark, staring at a vast, chasm of nothing, and feeling about the same.  Dr.Hook blared somewhere on a CD,

“I’ve got a couple more years on you babe, that’s all…”

More than likely there were tears involved. Perhaps some contraband vodka, as those were the early days.  This was before I realized that my heart wasn’t broken, I was just being nostalgic.

Ah yes, a couple more years on you babe. I’ve reached an age where it’s not the years, but the experience that makes all the difference, and boy oh boy, do I have experience.

Get your head out of the gutter, I’m not talking about thigh-wrapping-lip-locking-giddy-up-experience. I’m talking about the good stuff; love, loss, overcoming adversity, and enough street-smarts to not really give a hairy rat’s patooty what anyone thinks.

It’s grand darlings, it really is.

Stretched out alone in the darkness as a very young woman, I thought about the love and loss I’d endured from those sinfully delightful men-folk in my life who did, at that time,  have a couple more years on me. Back then I never knew that there would be nostalgia on the other side of youth, or that I would feel like the one who had a couple more years on you babe…that’s all.

It ain’t that I’m wiser, it’s only that I’ve spent more time with my back to the wall

Nostalgia is a quick rose-coloured glasses fix on the past, and not so much the grand master of being in the moment. And that’s all we have darlings. This moment.

But sometimes, in the moment, one must realize that being rooted in personal authenticity, and staying flexible enough to bend with the ever-present winds of change is a balancing act that never ends.

Which means, that someone, somewhere, has always got a couple more, or less years on you babe. That’s all.

 

 

Get it While You Can: Valentine’s Advice for Cynics

tacky undiesIt’s all bullshit.

That’s what you want me to say isn’t it? That the flowers and jewellery and lingerie and night(s) of hot sweaty sex are romantic hypocrisy akin to people who only go to church on Christmas eve.

Well, I’m not going to say it.

No. I’m going to suggest that you suck it up and get it while you can darlings. I’m going to tell you that life is short, and you’d best just damn well lighten up and enjoy it.  I’m going to tell you to quit denying your decadent desire to ooze sensuality.

 

Splurge. Buy the panties or whatever other ridiculously tacky, dirty and would-embarrass-you-to-death-if-anyone-you-knew-walked-in-here-and-saw-you-buying that.

If you’re going to do it, do it right. If it’s love, be bold. If it’s not love and it’s just a bow-down to the great gods and goddesses of sensuality, don’t insult them. Go all the way. Sacrifice up something hot and steamy. Make them blush.

Trust me, you’ll have many, many opportunities to be self-conscious, be disappointed, feel insecure or give in to fear and cynicism. You’ll have other days to be realistic about your relationship, lack of relationship, ‘it’s complicated’ status, or other such nonsense.

Get it while you can darlings, and for the love of all that’s pink, give it a good squeeze when you do get it.

 

Starting Fresh at Christmas: Relationship Advice

kissingmeistletoeThis afternoon I had a lovely surprise. A rather handsome man whom I’ve known since once-upon-a-time popped in to say hello at the little coffee shop where I was writing .

I wanted to give him a long, slow, deep, wet kiss right there on the spot.

I wanted to tell him that planning to be disappointed during one of the most magical and romantic times of year was a really stupid thing to do.

I wanted to make wild, dirty, love to him underneath his yet-to-be erected Christmas tree.  It was all I could do not to give in to my desire to erect things….

But that wouldn’t do.

No. I’ll tell you why. He’s torturing himself with the slow and painful ending of a bad relationship.

We’ve all done it. We’ve all put ourselves through the agony because we’re afraid of pulling the pin. Like much of life, we’re afraid of endings when we don’t know for sure what comes next.

While deployed in the trenches of love, I learned  that swift and complete is the only way to end something that’s dying a painful death.  I still kinda suck at it though.

Anyway, Mr. Slice-of-juicy-man-steak and I had a little chat. I rambled as I often do when I can’t focus and I’m visualizing my sweater being ripped off, breasts heaving, and tumbling naked into a candlelit bed. But I digress….

The crux of his matter is hinging on a do-or-die-show-up-or-no-show performance on Christmas day.

For everyone out there in relationship purgatory, please consider another perspective.

Why hang another expectation on an otherwise emotionally stretched holiday? It is THE holiday of the year. It’s a time to gather together with  the people we love, and share our lives.

Why not count-down to something a little more magical and heart-warming than, ‘if he/she doesn’t do this’, I’m ending it?

Why not shift the negative, I-dont’-want-to-feel-unloved-and-miserable, to an, I-can’t-wait-to-be-happy-focus?

Maybe I see the world differently because I’m surrounded by loss; people who didn’t get a chance to do the things they wanted to, or say the things they wanted to say.

The man who sat beside me this afternoon has a strong, protective side that I admire and respect. He still has a playful side that I miss seeing, and that I’d love to spend time with.

For everyone out there with a partner who doesn’t treat you like you are amazing,  who does not choose to adore you every day, who doesn’t make you laugh until you’re breathless, I beseech you to stop wasting everyone’s time.

If my sexy, juicy, delightfully sensual friend is out there reading this, know that I hope to see you soon. This time at home, laughing, with a little too much champagne, and a giant heap of  clothing on the floor.

There is mistletoe hanging at my door just waiting to fulfill it’s destiny.

Being Jolly on a Budget

Each year I come up with some grand ideas about how to spend time with the ones you hold near and dear without breaking the bank.

I mean really, isn’t that what the holidays are all about? Spending time together is my very favourite gift.

So, this year, I bring you a list of ideas for being jolly on a budget, and I encourage to you to do at least TWO of them.

 

  1. Have a Christmas movie marathon. Define that however you like, but it implies watching more than one movie. It requires that you snuggle under a cozy blanket and sip hot cocoa laced with something that will make you giddy.

snuggle up

If you’re not sure which movies to watch, try one of these;

White Christmas

Holiday Inn

The Holiday

It’s a Wonderful Life

Miracle on 34th Street

2) Wander through a Christmas Market – no purchase required, except for a minimal entrance fee and optional hot cocoa or eggnog. If you go on a cold night, all the better; it’s a great excuse to snuggle your sweetie.

distillery market

3) Attend a local carol sing. Usually the admission cost is a bit of food for a local food bank. What better way to celebrate the true meaning of the season?

Children's Christmas Pageant 2011 + Christmas in Fan Concert

 

4) Have a Christmas themed games night with your closest pals or your family. BYOB and a snack to share. Voila!

twister-4x3

5) Go for a walk on a snowy night. Take in the Christmas decorations and talk about your hopes, dreams, what your favourite traditions are.

windowshopping

6) Bake and decorate a gingerbread house of your own design. Pick out your favourite candy together, make the gingerbread (gingerbread often has to sit overnight before you bake it, so it could be a romantic pj party!), decorate the house just the way you want I to be.

gingerbread house

7) Read your favourite Christmas poems or stories.

robert-frost-the-road-not-taken

8) One of my favourite Christmas traditions is to watch Charlie Brown’s Christmas. It makes me smile, laugh, and remember what the true spirit of the season is really all about.

Wishing you a very happy holiday season that brings you closer to the ones you love.