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The Pink Panther & Deep Purple: Remembering Your Sensual Self

orangeblossomcandleDeep purple. The Pink Panther. Randall.

You know what I”m talking about ladies – your BOB’s.

For those of you not in the 90’s know, BOB is a dirty acronym. Battery. Operated.  Boyfriend.

If you deny having one, either you’re missing out, or  you’re lying.

Recently I had the occasion to invite another BOB into my life. Not because I was jonesing for a new part-time lover, but for other personal reasons. And we shall leave it at that.

At mid-life sexuality is interesting. Just like everything else; our careers, our relationships, and our perspective on how-in-the-hell-did-we-end-up-here.

At this stage, when it comes to sex you’ve either giddy-uped, gotten-down and satisfied your every whim, or you’re spent shell of a person wondering how you missed out on it all. At this age, whether you really  ever need to see anyone else your age naked is a question you start to consider seriously.

Naked and sex are often poor substitutes for sensuality, when really, they are the pleasurable end-result.

Sensuality is Marc Broussard singing Do Right Woman.

You may think that BOB is going to make you feel sexual. For a while, and for a purpose, but more than BOB, you need to remember how to make love to yourself.

Too often the synchronicity of making time for our significant others feels like another obligation, rather than the joy of connection that it should be. Sensuality gets discouraged, because after all, wouldn’t it be nice to always end a hot bath or beautiful snack with some lovemaking? Alas, we are too often left alone feeling like a cog in a relationship wheel, unappreciated as a sensual being.

This is where your imagination comes in. Start with BOB if you must, but try to remember what it’s like to soak in a luxurious bath surrounded by the scents that make you exhale…orange blossom, vanilla, cinnamon. You need to remember how good it feels to pass the razor over your tired legs, and to massage your favourite shampoo into your scalp.

bath

Perhaps like me, you enjoy the cool, salty sensation of fresh oysters and creamy champagne, or a pungent blue cheese accompanied with port by candlelight on a crisp fall evening.

BOB may help you remember the end game, but it won’t love you the way you can love you baby.

Indulge in the sensual sights, smells and sensations that remind your body of just how sexy it is.  Trust me, someone will notice.

 

 

 

 

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Knowledge is Power – Why Our Children Need to Learn about Their Bodies

kidsKnowledge is power.  When someone tries to deny another knowledge, they are denying them power: Power to make informed decisions, power to question, power to think independently, and power to live a full life.

If you’re not promoting knowledge, you’re promoting ignorance, and boy oh boy, isn’t that easy to take advantage of?

This morning I was reading a thread in a social media post where someone I presume to be a Christian conservative went on a rant about the evils of teaching sexual education to our children.

We live in a world where childhood sexual abuse is a reality. I know what it’s like, and it haunts you for years. Had we had the language and body awareness to speak about it, perhaps it would have stopped. Not only that, perhaps it would have stopped for the next generation as well.

If you are uncomfortable hearing a child talk about their body, perhaps it’s you who has the problem.

We live in a world where (primarily, but not exclusively) girls are raped on a regular basis.

You’re concerned about the words ‘anal intercourse’ being used in public schools? Well, I hate to put a kink in the rays of sunlight your almighty is shining down on you, but these girls are raped up the bum and taught that anal sex is not sex. You know why? It keeps their ‘virginity’ in tact so they can remain virtuous for their husbands. Yah.  Not to mention the health concerns that result from unprotected and non-consensual sex.

And Child-brides, it’s a real thing.

child brideLearning about our bodies gives children the opportunity to protect themselves, and the language to do that.

So don’t start trying to tell the world how damaging learning about the human body and sexuality is. We are humans who thirst, hunger, lust and need rest. Understanding these parts of our humanity only serve to make us better. Like a healthy diet and knowing how to balance our cravings at the dinner table, learning about sexuality helps us learn how to rejoice in our bodies instead of being ashamed.

If you’re reading this and shaking your head, thinking I’m a bra burning feminist who serves the devil, rest assured, I love my bras. They protect my voluptuous and glorious breasts. And seriously, how can you know the divine if you’ve never experienced darkness?

If you get angry hearing that our children are learning how to protect a part of life that can be beautiful and is often violently taken from them, just sit with this question for a while; what are you so afraid of?

 

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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.

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Sensuality; The Elixer of Life

stephanie-sarley
This is an image by Stephanie Sarley; Fruit for Feminism.

At this age, we’ve all had lovers. To be considered  a lover, one must be sensual, and as such, must be able to arouse and sate the sensuality in their beloved. Lovers are rare.

This post is about not letting your self-worth and sensuality get lost.  Don’t. Also, don’t confuse sensuality with sexuality. They are two different things, although they have a strong bond.

Enjoying and cultivating our own sensuality is something that I truly believe enhances our overall health; physical, mental, emotional and social.

Waking up alone this morning  I indulged in just-a-few-more-minutes. I spent some time thinking about neuroplasticity, and what I’ve been thinking lately.  I have spent a lot of time wondering whether I’m good enough or not; a good enough mother, a good enough partner, a good enough friend, a good enough professional…

But I always managed to make time to indulge in my own senses. After all, who doesn’t enjoy a long, slow meal at a table with friends with wine and succulent flavours? What about the smell of vanilla candles burning and a bubble bath accompanied by the dulcet tones of your favourite crooner? How about your true love reading Pablo Neruda poems to you while stretched out with your morning coffee? Perhaps it’s just the simple pleasure of being fireside with a good book, wrapped in a blanket with your fur baby curled up beside you.

I am by nature a sensual being. I believe we all are. Even Baptists. I’m not talking sexual here folks, although sensuality sure the hell does raise the bar when it comes to physical intimacy. I enjoy tastes, scents, sounds and tactile pleasure that the world has to offer. By nature I’m a kinesthetic learner.  I’m ‘touchy feely’. In relationship my need for physical contact is great.

I enjoy my wine, my bourbon, and my body. I find comfort in a soft blanket and a cool pillow. I love hugs. Not creepy-old-man-copping-a-feel-hugs, but hugs from my friends, colleagues and my kiddo. I love the strong taste of a good blue cheese, and the sweetness of a candy apple. Yesterday I stepped out the front door of my workplace just after the rain and for a few seconds was overcome by the delicious scent of the earth after an autumn rain.

This morning, I remembered how much I enjoy so many things. How I’ve let lazy lovers fool me into believing something is wrong with me; I’m too fat, I’m too needy, I’m too smart, I’m too fiery, I’m too nice, I’m too harsh, I’m too sexual. I’m not too anything, and neither are you my dear one. Today I vowed to turn my back on these judgments and re-awaken my sensuality; long, slow baths, indulgent fantasies, lingering over wine-rich meals with my friends, music, lingerie and most importantly, allowing myself to want.

 

 

Andshelaughs · andshelaughs writing

The Don’t Let the Bastards Get in Your Bedroom

snoring.jpgHow often have you lied awake in the darkness, with something on your mind and remained still and silent?

How often have you shed tears that only your pillow has known? Or perhaps craved your lover but been unable to touch them?

We’ve all held sadness throughout the day, only to release it when we’re alone; in the bathtub, shower, on a long run, or in bed.

But have you had great joy, and great love you were too timid to share as well? Well, last night was one of those nights for me.  I had both, and damn it, I was going to enjoy it.

You see, I’ve had many, many nights where loneliness and sadness were my bedfellows. They’re not nearly as sexy as a man, and they’re worse at keeping you awake. I’ve cried a river of tears in my bathtub and in my bed. Quite frankly, I think I’ve used up my lifetime quota, so I fully intend on enjoying every second of joy when the mood strikes.

We all know the torturous sounds of partners that snore like lumberjacks after a night of swilling whiskey. Ah yes, the torture of sharing space with someone who makes a lot of noise. When you’re tired, the sound of someone else indulging in sleep is almost too much to take.

Last night I was curled up in my sweetie’s arms, wide awake as he drifted off to sleep. If you’ve ever been smitten, you know how lovely that sounds is; your loved one cozy and warm and safe, drifting off with long, relaxed, deep breathing. He was dead to the world, but I was awake. As in, awake-awake. As in, I had some bedtime-energy to burn, and damn it, I was going to set a match to it.

Too often I hear my gal-pals tell me how terribly lacking their relationships are when it comes to physical intimacy. I know it can be inconvenient, time consuming, hair-mussing, and laundry producing. But really, what the hell?!

Intimacy is one of two great things about being an adult. The other one is booze.

But I digress….

What I’m getting at is the one, single element of our ‘intimate’ relationships that we let slip is the intimacy itself; physical and emotional. Day-to-day tasks take over, and before you know it, you’re sleeping with someone you no longer en’joy’. One of you sleeps, the other one is horny and resentful. It’s great when you’re on the same  Exhausted/Exhausted schedule and Horny/Horny schedule, but let’s face it, that rarely happens.

So, last night, curled around each other with my dozing sweetheart , instead of letting another moment be sequestered by the fatigue of our day-to-day-pooh-ha, I seized the moment. Well, his moment.

Just a little suggestion if your bedtime routine is more like a sleep lab and crash pad than a flamboyant boudoir; roll over and do something about it. Maybe even splurge on a candle or two.

 

 

 

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Pillowtalk – When Anything Less Leaves you Starving

Sensual
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul.         ~Pablo Neruda~
I’ve been accused of being many things, but never frigid.

Like many of my close pals, I admit to ranking the physical among some of the most important aspects of a romantic relationship. Like top three..two, maybe…you get the picture.

I’m tactile, and sensual, and love everything about physical intimacy. Everything. Don’t roll your eyes. Physical intimacy can be something powerful, beyond language or the mundane acts that bind lovers to one another. That’s why it’s called intimacy.

Sexual intimacy is a sacred bond between lover and beloved, with no accurate interpretation outside of that relationship. It’s alchemy  unique to each interaction.

Vulnerability, trust and honesty are the foundation of this intimacy, and can be damn hard to cultivate. Fear has no place in this arena of affection, but it tries to muscle it’s way in. It whispers things like; be quiet, be modest, be ashamed.

My advice is to take a big ole’ paddle to Fear’s behind, and kick it out of your sexual psyche.

If you find someone you can be naked with regarding your desires, fears and insecurities, don’t ever lose them.  Cherish the hell out of them and let them know.  Get to know the dark and light corners of their soul and let that joy radiate from your smile. That’s what sensuality and loving someone’s body is about. This is the deep intimacy of loving that we all crave; lover and beloved, beyond logic or language.

Wishing all of you the kind of intimacy that would make a sailor blush and your granny proud…xo