A Sexy Scottish Affair, Part 2

A very international experience in Miami, in which I attended a Scotch whisky tasting and a reading from a historical romance novel set in Scotland – all on the same night. Read Part 1 here.







Miami author Michelle Marcos discusses her latest historical romance novel, Secrets to Seducing a Scot, at Books and Books in Coral Gables. Scottish Highlander men are jaw-dropping tall, according to Marcos. See the video to learn more about these kilt-wearing seducers and why a Miami girl is writing a romance novel trilogy on the subject.



THE WRITER



After spending a couple of hours tasting Dalmore Scotch with Richard Paterson and discovering the sensual angles of the experience, I sauntered into Books and Books feeling a certain frisson.



Miami novelist Michelle Marcos was reading from her latest novel, Secrets to Seducing a Scot. What an appropriate end to the evening, although somewhat ironic – as clearly the Scotch had already seduced me.



I first met Marcos when I was an "agent" in the massive Ford Fiesta Movement social media campaign. At the time, Marcos was working with Habitat for Humanity as Communications Director. During our acquaintance, she gave me a tour of Habitat for Humanity’s development in an underserved Miami neighborhood near Overtown.



Marcos, a lovely, soft spoken gal was not only championing this amazing non-profit, but also writing historical romance novels on the side. Later, she would take a career leap and dedicate herself to novel writing full-time.



Marcos looks and talks like your girl next door. She’s Christian, humble and devoted. But she has this saucy side to her and is a phenomenal wordsmith. You think blogging is hard? Try cranking out novels.



I just love that a Miami girl, encouraged by a big and warm Cuban family, is successfully writing romance novels set in the Scottish Highlands. You’d think that’s a stretch – but Marcos has the smarts and wit to pull it off. She represents the Cuban-American 305 truly, giving us volumes of good sensual read better than any telenovela out there.



You wouldn’t ever think to put Hialeah and Scottish Highland in the same sentence, but there you go. Weirder things have happened in this amazing universe.



THE BOOK



Secrets to Seducing a Scot had me spellbound, even though, I’ll confess, it’s my first read in the genre.



The closest I’ve ever gotten to historical romance is the obviously prudish Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen. Please don’t tell me Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte was a romance, because I’m thinking that stick-in-the-mud never had an orgasm or at least, never dared to speak the unimaginable of female pleasure. However, I’m pretty sure literary genius Jean Rhys, author of Wide Sargasso Sea, probably indulged in an orgasm or two even though she never wrote about that directly.



And of course, there were the gothic novels I studied in grad school, where there was always a chaste, orphaned heroine being threatened by all kinds of ghoulish fears, most of them, of course, imagined archetypes when she was really freaking out about being pressed to give up her chastity.



Giving it up was a big deal back in the day. Well, it still is. There's your vagina (the physical organ) and then there's your vagina -- the part of your body subjected to all kinds of moral, cultural, political and religious scrutiny.



Serena Marsh, the novel's heroine, isn't about to give it up so easily. She's a stunner and has a flair for fashion, but in spite of being beautiful, she's far from perfect or pure, which makes her character quite likable. A smart, sassy and pampered writer penning a Sex and the City style column for a London newspaper in the early 19th century, Serena March is obligated to travel to Scotland with her ambassador father, who must make peace between Scottish clan leaders and the English monarchy.



Under some twisted circumstances (I won’t give up the plot) Serena Marsh finds a “protector” in Malcolm Slayter, a knock-out macho Scotsman who is an outcast, belonging to no particular clan but fiercely loyal to anyone who should place her trust in him.



This is a true tango of masculine and feminine, spelling out “I’ll dance with you, but only if you can lead me.” This is Taming of the Shrew without the shrew, though Serena Marsh is admittedly stubborn, in a good way. Both man and woman seduce each other, just like a real tango, with equal leverage of power, even though it appears, at first glance, that the woman is strictly submissive.



There’s a fantasy scene written out where Serena Marsh imagines what it would be like to explore under her would-be lover’s kilt. If you can imagine a brazen woman owning her sexual bravado, this is it. But the city girl gets seduced by the Highland knave, though not overnight. She must also prove herself worthy of love.



Marcos is particularly attracted to the Regency era, so the novel takes you through that time period and not without some of the bloody violence you might also read about in history books. The sex scenes were hot, but I loved journeying through the Highlands with characters encountering potential danger at every corner.



Secrets to Seducing a Scot is Part 1 of a trilogy and I am absolutely aching for the release of Part 2 in the Spring 2012. My guess is that I’ll read this sipping a good Scotch from the Highlands.



To follow Marcos, check out her website, Facebook and Twitter.



Here's the link in case you missed A Sexy Scottish Affair, Part 1.

How To Be A Stalker in Japan

In Japan, many times "romance" actually begins with the ancient Japanese tradition of stalking. So before you set out on your next land fishing trip, be sure to watch and memorize the below instructional video on How To Be A Stalker in Japan.





WARNING: Beware of the originally spoken English interpreted into Japanese and then translated back again into English subtitles. This may be somewhat confusing.



Lesson #1:







Lesson #2



Lesson #3



Lesson #4



Related: Japanese Breaking Up is Not So Hard To Do

Tying the Knot in Florida: How Laid Back Locals Do It

All you need is love and a little creativity to pull off an utterly simple yet breathtaking wedding ceremony on Florida's gulf coast.

Do it in November, when the weather starts to cool down. Hire a pontoon boat for all your nearest and dearest and head out from Pine Island Marina to the desolate, southernmost point of North Captiva Island at Redfish Pass.

Ask your guests to take their shoes off, disembark on the beach and assemble at your chapel by the sea, built by mother nature.

Have a good friend of yours officiate the ceremony. Say your own vows. Improvise if you need to.

Kiss and don't care about getting the hem of your dress all wet. Collect shells. Soft golden sunlight is making everything look so damn gorgeous. It feels good, like getting married for the second time because you want to not because you have to.

On the way back to the reception, open the cooler for beers. Play Bob Marley. Dance under the full moon, its silver glow lighting the smooth waters of Pine Island Sound.

"One Love."

Yeah, that works.

What else do you need?

This wedding cynic totally dug her friend's beach ceremony. If you're going to get married Florida gulf coast style, less is definitely more.

The Friday Sex Blog [Love Lessons]

¡Hola! Everybody…
Life is about to get "interesting" for this blogger... the waves? The surf is up and the it's getting rough. Wish me luck.

* * *

Love Lessons

“The night has a thousand eyes,
And the day but one;
Yet the light of the bright world dies
With the dying sun.

The mind has a thousand eyes,
And the heart but one;
Yet the light of a whole life dies
When love is done.”

Just to set the record straight I am 55 years-old and for most of my adult life, I have been a committed bachelor. I have had countless relationships, many casual, a few serious, but for most of my life, I have been single by choice. I have no regrets. I like it that I’ve been single for that long and consistently. With the exception of one woman, I have never married, though I’ve lived with women over the years. I am not looking for a long-term relationship – nor have I ever.

Does the above sound like a hopeless romantic?

Exactly!

I am as far removed from the archetype of the hopeless romantic as you can get. Women -- women looking for serious relationships -- stay away from me. LOL

Yet the fact remains that you will be hard-pressed to find a more romantic person than yours truly. If you’re the object of my passion, you will feel as if you’re the only woman in the world. I will write poems in your honor, make exquisitely and excruciating slow love to you, perform solitary parades to celebrate your returns, mourn your departures. You will remember our first kiss because the attention to detail devoted to that most anticipated of moments will make you wet with appreciation.

I am not a “good guy.” I’m the man your mother warned you about. You may hate me when it’s all done, but you will remember me.

I have broken countless hearts and have had mine shattered into a million pieces so many times, I no longer even bother trying to put all the jagged shards together. It’s there, this heart of mine – cracked open.

Welcome.

I share all this in the interest of transparency because the one thing I bring to the table is my honesty -- my earnest desire to be as real as I can be. Later you may scandalize me, but you will never be able to say I wasn’t true.

My first kiss was with a girl named Emily. I was twelve years-old and I can remember that dark winter night and the song was playing over her transistor radio (Mellow Yellow). I remember I closed my eyes (I always close my eyes) and I remember we kissed on a dare. We both liked each other, but I was too shy to do anything about it until one of my cousins dared us and we kissed. It was a delicious kiss. My heart thumped. After that first kiss, we would meet every night in that tenement hallway and kiss. One day she let me kiss her nubby breasts, which I kissed tenderly, and another night I ventured and felt the moist wetness between her legs. She moaned…

We almost broke up because my cousin, who was jealous, insisted that a blister on Emily’s lip was some kind of sexual disease (it was a fever blister). Eventually, her mother caught us kissing (on the rooftop), we weren’t allowed to see each other, and when the summer recess came, they moved far away. That was my first heartbreak (and hers).

I was very much a nerd in those days, extremely shy around the opposite sex. Not long after Emily, my first lover, the raven-haired beauty, Victoria ("don't call me Vickie"), our 16-year-old babysitter, came to me in the middle of the night and thrust her hairy pussy onto my face. I remember the pungency of her sex and feeling somewhat confused, until I flicked at her with my tongue and she groaned. We would make love like that for months, until my mother came home early one night (she was working a night shift at a factory) and caught us in the clinch. Victoria wasn't allowed to babysit after that, but it didn't stop us. Many years later, I ran into Victoria and she confessed feeling guilty at having corrupting me, but I assured her that I felt gratitude for having been corrupted by the lovely Victoria. We laughed...

I would fall madly in love at 14 with a girl named Milva. Milva was intelligent, was a writer (or wanted to be one), and was one of the few people who could keep up with me intellectually. When we made love, it was like a poem the way it unfolded. We made love under the boardwalk at Brighton Beach's Pier 6. I loved Milva with all my heart and we were the most popular couple in our high school. Milva had jet-black hair, large and intelligent cherry-brown eyes and a petite but curvy body.

Dang! We were so hot for one another!

Milva left me one day for an “older guy” (someone in college) and that was a devastating loss. It would be a while before I could love again in that completely open and fearless way. Afraid of rejection, of being hurt, I turned to literature and began reading all the “Great Books” of the Western Canon. Having lost at love, I explored my intellectual side and I drank greedily from that cup.

I always moved between the landscapes of my heart and mind and, in many ways, I was in love with love. Towards the end of high school, Milva would return to me, but it was too late. Besides, by then I had Mona, a fierce Milva rival. Mona of the cinnamon colored skin, the insatiable need for sex. God! We spent a torrid summer years after high school in each others arms. She even threw out her husband. We made love everywhere and every which way. Mona was the first woman would gave me her ass willingly. Life was good.

Over the years I searched for the ideal way to love, sometimes through the eyes of that 12-year-old and occasionally with the wisdom of a maturing young man.

We all have a 12-year-old inside, that adolescent boy or girl in search of the perfect love. Our stories may be different, but we bring them into all the aspects of adult relating, influencing our styles of communication, our conceptions of intimacy, our degree of sexual openness, our values, our hopes, and our dreams. And because our stories are different, we sometimes collide, confronted with the inevitable conflicts of love. Until we make these internal stories conscious and become fully willing to explore them with our partners -- with understanding, patience, and compassion – we will never know true intimacy.

Without intimacy, life withers away. As all the great poets have noted, we need each other, deeply, in order to survive. When faced with love, we find ourselves reflected in the eyes of another and, if we’re able, we can grow together through this stormy search for self. Through love, our souls can unfold – like a rare and beautiful flower. We embrace, we discover each other, we grow, but still the mystery remains.

I have never found the perfect love of my idealistic adolescence, but I found something far more rewarding-- my true self. And the voices I’ve encountered along the way -- the books I’ve read, the women I have known, and the stories we’ve shared along the way – these are the seeds from which the man who stands before has grown.

Yo soy el hijo del cariño y tambien de la dulzura.

The Friday Sex Blog [Can Men and Women be Friends?]

¡Hola! Everybody...
Today is my "Women’s Prison Workshop" followed by the "Relationships for Men in Recovery Workshop" day. So I’ll be unreachable for most of the day and early eve…

* * *

-=[ Harry & Sally on my Couch ]=-

Men and women can’t be friends because the sex part always gets in the way.

-- Harry & Aristotle

Well, actually, Harry (the character from that intolerable movie, When Harry met Sally) and Aristotle did not say this, but, as I hope to show, Aristotle and Harry seem to sleep in the same philosophical bed (pun intended). Our sexual/ romantics relations are the way they are today not because that’s “how they have always been,” but because we live within a cultural context. Philosophy matters, my dear friends, more than we know…

When Harry met Sally begs the question: can men and women be friends and then answers it so: “Men and women can’t be friends -- because the sex part always gets in the way.”

But is this true? Are there reasons friendship between men and women isn’t possible? Or more to the point: are there reasons why friendship between men and women are more difficult to maintain than same-sex friendships?

As we shall see, most of the assumptions we carry around regarding these and other questions are established in ancient Greek philosophy and their latter day Christian interpreters. Aristotle strongly suggested that a romantic relationship can never become the highest form of friendship. He made a distinction between a bond like friendship, grounded in “exalted” character traits and involving choice (philia), from a bond based solely on an attraction (eros). And while there can be friendship between lover and beloved, he added, it would not be the highest form of friendship. It would be a friendship based not on character but in pleasure -- and therefore will likely fade. Still, Mr. Aristotle concedes (perhaps acknowledging how one form of love may grow from another), “many do remain friends if, through familiarity, they have come to love each other’s character… ”

At this point, I will concede (somewhat) that eros and philia are indeed different forms of love, even if sometimes they come together as a package deal. In making a different but related point, noted Christian writer, C.S. Lewis suggested the following experiment:

“Suppose you… have fallen in love with and married your friend… now suppose that you were offered the choice of two futures: ‘Either you will cease to be lovers but remain forever joint seekers of the same God, the same beauty, the same truth, or else, losing all that, you will retain as long as you live the raptures and ardours, all the wonder and the wild desire of Eros. Choose which you please.’”

Hmmmmm...

Mr. Lewis seems to be saying we have to recognize the reality and difficulty of a choice between the different loves. We can have one or the other, but not both. He captures this difference effectively in the following sentence: “Lovers are normally face to face, absorbed in each other; friends, side by side, absorbed in some common interest.” Friends, therefore, are more likely to be happy to welcome a new friend who shares their common interest, but eros is a jealous love which must exclude third parties.

Lewis believed that friendship and erotic love may go together, but in many respects he agreed with Harry and Aristotle that the combination is, at the very least, a tenuous one. Mr. Lewis’ contention that a friendship between a man and a woman can exist, but that it can do so only if the parties involved are not physically attracted to one another, or one of them loves another. Otherwise, the friendship will slip into the erotic realm eventually.

This is not too different from Harry’s view, who after stating at the very beginning that sex (eros) will always get in the way, later adds the qualifier, “unless both are involved with other people.” But then, in one of many convoluted pieces of dialog that damns this movie (Billy Crystal and Meg Ryan are two of my most hated of Hollywood actors, BTW), he adds, (and I paraphrase loosely here) But that doesn’t work because the person you’re involved with doesn’t understand why you need to be friends with the other person. She figures you must be secretly interested in the other person -- which you probably are.

Lewis is a little less gloomy than Harry. Lewis suggests that lovers who are friends may learn to share their friendship with others, though not, of course [!],erotically. Still this does not address the main point in all this: the supposed precariousness of friendships with members of the opposite sex.

Perhaps it is best to cede the point that friendship between men and women will be more difficult within the context of a culture that’s terribly paranoid and repressive about eros (desire, sex, love). Friendship between men and women (and individuals with a romantic potential) will almost always be more difficult than same sex friendships. There will always be at the least a faint sexual tension not present when only one sex is involved. However, this tension might give the friendship a flavor not easily achieved any other way. In my experience there is no conversation better that that between a man and a woman who are not in love, have no intention of falling in love, but yet might fall in love; a pair who know each other well, but are also aware that there are frontiers yet to be explored.

This point might describe what many found appealing in When Harry Met Sally. In one scene a friend expresses doubt why Harry would pursue a relationship with Sally when there is no prospect of sex. His answer is telling, “I can just be myself,” Harry says, “cause I’m not trying to get her into bed.” That sentiment right there -- the absence of an agenda (or at least being transparent about it) -- is what makes all the difference. At least it makes all the difference for me. When I decided to hold a moratorium on romantic relationships after coming to the sad realization almost all my relationships were horribly dysfunctional, it opened the gate for me to understand women as human beings. Freed of “the agenda,” I was able to be myself and in the process learn how to be with women in ways I never imagined.

Even with the sexual tension present. Eros is a problem for friendship between men and women, though it can also be wonderfully enriching. Eros is a threat because, unlike friendship, many experience eros as a jealous love that does not like sharing...

My ex-wife was my dear friend before we married. We even slept in the same bed once or twice and it wasn’t something that was uncomfortable or complicated. Once, we had talked all night at her place and we just fell asleep. Eventually, ours would evolve into a romantic love, but it was a love that grew out of friendship between a man and a woman. Today, we are no longer married but I count her as one of my most trusted and dearest friends.

So yeah, to answer the question, not only is friendship between a man and woman possible, it is imperative.

Love,

Eddie

Flirting

¡Hola! Everybody...
As you have probably heard, Sen. Ted Kennedy, “the Lion of the Senate,” passed away earlier today. He may have been an imperfect human being, but he was a masterful legislator. Look at all of his legislative accomplishments: Voting Rights Act, Americans with Disabilities Act, Title 9, WIC for feeding the poor, CHIP for child healthcare, expansion of Medicare. Hundreds of his bills became law. His death is our democracy’s loss. RIP Mr. Kennedy.

Part of the “Summer Reruns” series...

* * *

-=[ The Art of the Flirt ]=-

Beauty is power; a smile is its sword.

-- Charles Reade

As most of you have probably noticed by now, I am a notorious flirt. I will flirt with anyone: age, sexual orientation, even species, has no effect one me -- if it moves, I will flirt with it. I’m also a bit out of control. Those who have met me in person and seen me in a group context know I am absolutely out of my mind. Most of you think of stuff; I actually do stuff.

One day, some friends and I went out and we met a group of young ladies. Of course, I was all over the place, pushing the envelope, laughing, doing stuff, and we were all having a good time. No sooner than a friend of mine tried to the same thing I was doing, he was slapped -- well, almost slapped. My friend wondered aloud why I get away with doing stuff all the time.

I think I know why. The reason why women allow me some latitude is that they sense that my flirting and carrying on comes from a good place. My intention is to have fun. My flirting is most often about poking fun at conventions and many women get that. I might take a woman’s hand or do outrageous stuff, but I like to think most women get where I’m coming from. In other words, I’m not coming from a creepy place.

What I’m saying is that not all my flirting is romantic in nature. Sometimes my flirting has more to do with making fun of a situation or myself in a way that makes people comfortable. What my friend doesn’t get is that women can feel his intentions -- that’s why he doesn’t get away with the things I’m allowed to do.

Besides, you really shouldn’t be following my lead -- I’m not exactly the ideal model here.

On the other hand, when I’m in a relationship, I am much more conscious about my interactions with the opposite sex. A lot depends on the woman I’m with. I would never want a woman to feel badly around me, so when I’m with someone, whether it be a casual date, or in a committed relationship, I adapt my behavior accordingly. The irony is that I find more women telling me it’s okay for me to act out. Even then, I like to think I am considerate of others.

I say this because I know many people who know me exclusively through my internet interactions see me as an incorrigible flirt, and to a degree, I am. However, that’s only one aspect of my personality. I mean, those who have chatted with me, or met me, or talked to me on the phone know that we could go for hours and I won’t bring up the topic of sex. I think people get that impression of me from my internet persona.

As I have stated previously, the aspect that I show most on internet is the performer side of my personality. I am actually quite respectful -- the perfect gentleman -- in person, and I challenge any woman who has me t me personally (except you. LOL!) to say otherwise. I was taught to be the perfect gentleman by the women who raised me, and I like being that way. Flowers, poetry, consideration, respect, being willing to listen -- these are all qualities you might not experience with me here on the internet, but those are aspects of my personality too.

I think people have lost the art of the flirt. Like kissing, or anything worthwhile in life, flirting takes practice. It takes a willingness to be bold, but in a way that invites participation. It takes a sense of adventure and also an evolved sense of humor because with flirting comes risks. Flirting is a way to laugh in the face of social conventions and sometimes also a way to test the romantic waters. I don’t like to flirt just to see how far I can go, that’s not fun. Like saying something outrageous to see if it’s permitted or not? I’m not like that. If I want to go to bed with you, eventually, I will bring up the subject in a very non-flirtatious manner. It will be more along the lines of, “I’m becoming very much attracted to you, your way of being, and I’m developing these feelings for you blah blah blah… ” I’m very much upfront about where I stand and what I’m feeling.

No, flirting is fun. It’s a way for adults to loosen up, break down some barriers, and push the envelope. Nevertheless, the most important part of the flirt is always maintaining an intention of respect. For me, that’s the sexiest form of flirting.

How about you? Do you like to flirt and do you think I’m out of control?

Flirtatiously Yours,

Eddie

Travelogue

¡Hola! Everybody...
My back is giving me huge problems (again). BTW, the new Star Trek movie is fantastic! One of the best, if not the best, of the series and quite possibly one of the best sci-fi movies in a while. Good writing, great chemistry between actors and lots of action. If you get a chance, go see it this weekend. BTW, Spock likes the dark meat. LOL!

* * *

-=[ Nows no. 30 ]=-

God! We've traveled...
you and I.

To our islands
and our cities
to countries
and to beaches.

We've moved our love
across the miles,
in cars
and trains and planes
and boats
from the largest to the small.

But our journeys,
ever joyous,
always windswept,
sweet and new,
fade to shadows
when compared to
a cool bed,
crisp sheets,
tender arms,
and you.

Love Lessons

¡Hola! Everybody…
In a rush today! Prepping for my Thursday Women’s Prison Workshop… I'll be gone all day. Today's blog song is officially my summer song of 2008! Have a great day!

* * *

Love Lessons

“The night has a thousand eyes,
And the day but one;
Yet the light of the bright world dies
With the dying sun.

The mind has a thousand eyes,
And the heart but one;
Yet the light of a whole life dies
When love is done.”

Just to set the record straight I am 53 years-old and for most of my adult life, I have been a committed bachelor. I have had countless relationships, many casual, a few serious, but for most of my life, I have been single by choice. I have no regrets. I like it that I’ve been single for that long and consistently. With the exception of one woman, I have never married, though I’ve lived with women over the years. I am not looking for a long-term relationship – nor have I ever.

Does the above sound like a hopeless romantic?

::blank stare::

Exactly!

I am as far removed from the archetype of the hopeless romantic as you can get. Women -- women looking for serious relationships stay away from me – well at least the smart ones do. LOL!

Yet the fact remains that you will be hard-pressed to find a more romantic man than yours truly. If you’re the object of my heart, you will feel as if you’re the only woman in the world. I will write poems in your honor, make exquisitely and excruciating slow love to you, perform solitary parades to celebrate your returns, and mourn your departures. You will remember our first kiss because the attention to detail devoted to that most anticipated of moments will make you wet with appreciation.

I am not a “good guy.” I’m the man your mother warned you about. In the end, you may hate me when it’s all done, but you will remember me.

LOL

I have broken countless hearts and have had mine shattered into a million pieces so many times, I no longer even bother trying to put all the jagged shards together. It’s there, this heart of mine – open.

Welcome.

I share all this in the interest of transparency because the one thing I bring to the table is my honesty – my earnest desire to be as real as I can be. Later you may scandalize me, but you will never be able to say I wasn’t true.

My first girlfriend – real girlfriend – was named Emily (ugh). I was twelve years-old and I can remember that dark winter night when we first kissed and what song was playing over her transistor radio (Mellow Yellow). I remember I closed my eyes (I always close my eyes when I kiss), and I remember we kissed on a dare. We both liked each other, but I was too shy to do anything about it and one of my cousins dared me to kiss her and we did. It was a delicious kiss. My heart thumped. After that first kiss, we would meet every night in the hallway of 704 E. 5^th St. and kiss. One day she let me kiss her nubby breasts, which I kissed tenderly, and another night I ventured and felt the moist wetness between her legs. She moaned…

We almost broke up because my cousin, who was jealous, insisted that a blister on Emily’s lip was some kind of sexual disease (it was a fever blister). Eventually, her mother caught us kissing (on the rooftop), we weren’t allowed to see each other, and when the summer recess came, they moved far away. That was my first heartbreak (and hers).

I would fall madly in love again at 14 with a girl named Milva. Milva was intelligent, wrote a lot, and was one of the few people (and certainly the only woman) who could keep up with me intellectually. I was extremely shy and when we made love, it was like a poem the way it unfolded. We made love under the boardwalk in Brighton Beach. I loved Milva with all my heart and we were the most popular couple in our high school. Milva had jet-black hair, large and intelligent cherry-brown eyes and a petite but curvy body.

Dang! We were so hot for one another!

Milva left me one day for an “older guy” (someone in college) and that was a devastating loss. It would be a while before I could love again in that completely open and fearless way. Afraid of rejection, of being hurt, I turned to literature and began reading all the “Great Books” of the Western Canon. Having lost at love, I explored my intellectual side and I drank greedily from the cup of knowledge.

But I always moved between the landscapes of my heart and mind and in many ways, I was in love with love. Towards the end of high school, Milva would return to me, but it was too late. Besides, by then I had Mona, a fierce Milva rival. Mona of the cinnamon colored skin, the insatiable need for sex. God! We spent a torrid summer a coupe of years after high school in each others arms. She even threw out her husband. We made love everywhere and every which way. Mona was the first woman would gave me her ass willingly. Life was good! LOL

Over the years I searched for the ideal way to love, sometimes through the eyes of that 12-year-old and occasionally with the wisdom of a maturing young man.

We all have a 12-year-old inside, that adolescent boy or girl in search of the perfect love. Our stories may be different, but we bring them into all the aspects of adult relating, influencing our styles of communication, our conceptions of intimacy, our degree of sexual openness, our values, our hopes, and our dreams. And because our stories are different, we sometimes collide, confronted with the inevitable conflicts of love. Until we make these internal stories conscious and become fully willing to explore them with our partners – with understanding, patience, and compassion – we will never know true intimacy.

Without intimacy, life withers away. As many great poets have noted, we need each other, deeply, in order to survive. When faced with love, we find ourselves reflected in the eyes of another and, if we’re able, we can grow together through the stormy search for self. In love, our souls can unfold – like a rare and beautiful flower. We embrace, we discover each other, we grow, but still the mystery remains.

I have never found the perfect love of my idealistic adolescence, but I found myself instead. And the voices I’ve encountered along the way – the books I’ve read, the people I have met, and the stories I’ve shared along the way – these are the seeds from which the man who stands before has grown.

Yo soy el hijo del cariño y tambien de la dulzura.