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The Friday Sex Blog [In Praise of Darkness]

¡Hola! Everybody…
The nip is in the air: the message that autumn will arrive, dressed to the teeth, at that moment when you most need change… I’m going to get dressed just because I feel like it. LOL

* * *

-=[ Doing it in the Dark ]=-

Cuddle up baby
Keep it all out of sight
Undercover of the night.
-- Rolling Stones

I'm guilty. I am guilty of equating sex in the dark with shame. Truth be told, sex is the only game we play in the dark. Are we ashamed to watch what we’re doing, or does darkness offer a way to free our most intimate passions?

Darkness offers a safe haven. In the darkness, lovers are safe from each other’s unrelenting gaze, and the prying eyes of others -- children, parents, and neighbors. To the extent that you want to deny others knowledge of you as a sexual person, you will welcome the protection of the dark.

Under the cover of darkness, we are all beautiful. Flab, cellulite, sags, spots, and wrinkles are all mercifully hidden. Out of focus, the often comical contortions and grimaces of sexual exertion become a graceful ballet. If you find down-to-earth images of skin and sweat distracting, you will welcome the camouflage of the dark.

Darkness confers permission and in the permissive darkness, sin and taboo are softened. Transgressions transpire without witness. If your upbringing and social conditioning stressed sexual inhibitions, you might seek, even require, the tolerance that comes with the dark.

Obscured by the darkness, the cracks in your life -- or the ceiling -- lose their urgency. Right here, right now, under the covers, in the half-dark with air as still as held breath, close together, more connected, more alive, the details of everyday existence a faded memory. In the dark it’s just the two of you, two streams of crackling energy knitting together, entwining, tightening, forming a kind of growing liquid knot that becomes more complex, twisting in and of itself, the focus limited to completing that knot, to finding its ultimate expression, until you’re immersed into a blaze of sexuality.

We live in an image-obsessed culture, and once we are blinded by the darkness we are forced to use our other senses. We rediscover touch, sound, aroma. Encumbered by clothing, we are chronically deprived of the variety and possibilities of the pleasures and comforts available through touch.

Emboldened by the darkness, we become audacious, our words and rhythms betraying a lusty eagerness we might otherwise deny. Shyness can be slain in the dark. In the unconditional privacy of the darkness, we can exaggerate and improve our actual experience through our imagination. Our deeper wishes fulfilled, we feel deeper love and greater passion. Through our imagination, we become more engaged in reality. To those of us who cherish our fantasies, darkness is an ally.

The trouble with darkness, it seems to me, that you can’t see what you’re doing. You can’t really see how your partner is reacting. You can’t gaze into each other’s eyes. Travelers afraid of the sexual territory tend to stick to the familiar and sex in the dark often becomes a routine and dry exercise. I think the biggest objection is that people tend to see nudity or nakedness as a sin of immodesty. But c’mon people, we’re talking here of a candle and some moonlight, not film shoot spotlight. But many of us have a hard time believing that anyone would enjoy seeing our genitals. This is especially true of women who have been repeatedly told they are cursed, or dirty. Many women are so paralyzed by shame they even avoid medical examination “down there.” Modesty, my brothers and sisters is often shame in disguise.

Perhaps because of the taboos put upon showing and looking, such acts can be slowly introduced as a final revelation of trust between two lovers. Perhaps the darkness can soften the way a little, so that full openness is something natural and not forced. Otherwise our nakedness becomes a sham -- empty gestures of intimacy.

Love,

Eddie

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Sarah Palin reporting on Glen Rice's basketball team for KTUU three months after they did the nasty.

Courtesy of Deadspin:

Just about three months after her alleged one-night stand with Michigan star player Glen Rice, Sarah Palin (then Sarah Heath) reported on a Wolverines game for Anchorage's KTUU-TV. In the clip above, she's reporting on Michigan's 80-67 loss against Purdue on March 3, 1988 in to clinch the Big Ten championship game. Her alleged former lover had just 11 points and shot 5 for 16 from the field in the game, so he goes unmentioned. 

Okay this might just be the result of knowing that Palin and Rice bumped uglies, but does EVERYTHING she says in this sportscast seem packed with sexual innuendo to anybody else?

The Best 'No' That Was Ever Said

I was going to title this post as "Some More Thoughts on Celibacy" but then by some delicious serendipity my friend and lovely writer Maura Hernandez wrote this on Twitter: "Saying 'no' feels good. You should try it."

This hit me at the core, because it was exactly the phrase I was looking for in the wordsmith mill. You see, last night, after dinner with friends in Fort Lauderdale, I walked around in a club on Las Olas, looking for a few strays who had left the table for some diversion while a few of us finished our cocktails.

The place was hazy, shadows and lights in stark contrast, bouncing off the walls like the music -- scantily clad club goer bodies everywhere and I couldn't find my friends.

I'm not surprised they didn't stay.

There were an unusual amount of women who looked like Russian whores and lots of young Guido types. The bouncer, who was a Caucasian refrigerator about ten feet tall, wasn't carding people. But his mountainous stature was all for naught -- I suspect the biggest threat to the place was a Boca bitch wearing steel sharp stilettos, lording it over with her cheap hundred dollar hair extensions. The spot wasn't particularly appealing to me. It reeked of fake. It portended sex for money, not love.

And then it happened. The ex-boyfriend just swooped into my line of sight, life flashing before me in a 30 second B movie that I hate to replay.

I saw him mingling with some "kids" in the corner.

How is it possible to feel compassion and repulsion at the same time?

Honestly, nearly a year and half later, that's what I felt.

And I was a bit surprised ... I hadn't thought about him at all in months.

All this bolstered my now conscious decision to be celibate in a sex-crazed world, a world that defines relationship that way.

Because along the path of celibacy, I have also developed some of the best relationships I've ever had, some that have made my life more meaningful and given me great purpose -- something I could never achieve with the ex and much less so wearing the mask of cheap romance.

But more about the evening.

It probably wasn't a coincidence that some of my dining companions were a lovely couple that had found love under some rather challenging circumstances. One of party is going through a divorce and the other was encouraging the partner to feel compassion for the soon-to-be ex-spouse.

People come into our lives for a reason. Perhaps if my ex had not come into my life, I wouldn't have had the trial experience and I wouldn't be where I am today, feeling very complete on my own and very anchored in this drifting process of living. Because we are all drifting towards death and it is all a process, whether we want to acknowledge it or not. I know it sounds morbid, but if you don't appreciate every breath you take, warts and all, you aren't really living.

Why do I tag this blog as a "guide to chronic living"? Because we can't help it. Life is a gift.

And my friend Maura is right. Every 'no' is a great thing, because it opens opportunities not only in our own lives but to someone else and elsewhere. Every time I say 'no' someone else gets a 'yes' ... it is all a give and take in this interconnected web, an interchange and market of the same energy.

You cannot possibly feel alone when you feel connected this way.

This is why, even though it sucked to see my ex and I thanked God he didn't acknowledge or recognize me (I've lost weight and after all, it was a crowded lounge), I can still project love to him.

I still wonder, however, how I could have ever spread my legs for that man, and I know every woman can relate to that.

And regardless, we were not the right match.

When I was younger, I thought that people gave me funny looks for being single and childless. Now, I think the "funny look" might have been a glance of envy for the power and freedom I enjoy because I'm single and childless.

There is nothing wrong with love and having a family, but there is also nothing wrong with honoring a path of devotion to others that are not your biological family. That is really what celibacy is all about. Actually, being celibate is all about love. Real love, agape love -- devotion to the world -- not just one individual.

When I hear my single friends whine about men and loneliness, I wish I could reach into their hearts and show them that there's so much more to life than sex and romance. There's nothing wrong with sex and romance, but the heart needs to aspire to more eventually. We are bigger and better than that.

Sex and romance can be true detractors from our real purpose.

So far, I've told you there's nothing wrong with a bunch of contradictory things and now I'm going to mix it up and tell you that I have no clue what the right thing is for you or anyone, but I do know this: no lover will ever take away my purpose in life. He'll contribute to it. And I won't settle for less. Love is enormous and his heart better be even bigger. We will swell and sway together.

In the meantime, I'm happy to be in this path.

Those two little words 'no' and 'yes' can define us in so many ways. They help set boundaries. You can still be loving and refuse with a 'no' when it's the right thing to do. And you can take huge leaps of faith when you say 'yes' for the right reasons as well.

If my ex hadn't said 'no' to me, I would've been in a place that I would have never wanted to be. He did me a huge fucking favor. I am grateful to him for that even if it makes no sense or it rhymes with reason in a twisted way.

Think about that simple word 'no' ... it could be your most fortunate destiny.

The Friday Sex Blog [Masturbation]

¡Hola! Everybody...
I'm sick with a painful sore throat and fever.

Today, the online magazine I write for, Subversify, will be posting my reflection on 9/11. I experienced the events first hand and I think I offer an alternative perspective. Go there and leave a comment (click here).

Sex talk...

* * *

-=[ Masturbation ]=-

The following is a true story. Not too long ago, I got a phone call from a distraught friend. Apparently, he was caught by his wife masturbating, which isn’t so strange. What was strange about my friend’s predicament and the cause for his anxiety was his wife’s response: she was outraged. LOL! According to my friend, his wife felt that his masturbating was an affront to her sexual capability. In other words, if he had to masturbate, then that was a reflection of her not “satisfying” her man.

To make matters worse, she confided the incident to her best friend, who happens to be the caller’s sister. I know my friend’s sister and she has the biggest mouth in the world! So, now everybody knows my friend was caught spanking the monkey by his wife. LMAO! Don’t laugh, he tells me, because the whole incident has brought up some issues that threaten the marriage, namely my friend’s wife’s notions of sex and sexuality.

I too find her response strange, but it is not the first time I hear this kind of attitude regarding masturbation. I remember a summer fling affair I had with an intelligent, highly sexual, college-educated Latina. We did practically everything that summer, but when I asked her if she ever masturbated (I wanted to watch/ participate), she looked at me as if I had grown a third eye and told me that she didn’t need to masturbate. Her whole perspective on masturbation was that it was for women who couldn’t get a man.

I was shocked.

I masturbate – all the time. Who knows, I may have masturbated to a fantasy fueled by one of your pics! LMAO! Kidding!

I masturbate all the time especially when I’m writing, or doing something creative. I read somewhere that writers are incorrigible masturbators. My exes all know about my predilection toward pleasuring myself and for the most part, it’s never been an issue. In fact, some were grateful for it because if they weren’t in the mood, I would just take matters into my own hands. However, I must warn you: making me do that too often would eventually lead to you sleeping alone. ::wink::

Masturbation has been taboo for a long, long time. Christianity actually considers it a sin of some type and I remember the kind nuns of my childhood telling me I would go blind and me thinking: Yeah right bitches. I'll believe that when I believe that single, homeless teen moms get preggers without sex and give birth to gods. Well, I didn’t phrase exactly that way, but it was what I felt.

Most religiously inflexible people will argue against masturbation from the point of view that it’s an unnatural act, hence a sin against God. But I beg to differ: if it were so unnatural, then why is there some preliminary research showing that fetuses masturbate? Yep, you heard that right! Fetuses masturbate! In 1996, two ob-gyns in Italy published a letter in the American Journal of Obstetrics and Gynecology in which they described observing a female fetus at 32 weeks of gestation touching the vulva in a caressing manner primarily in the region of the clitoris:

… Movements stopped after 30 tom 40 seconds and started again after a few minutes. Furthermore, these slight touches were repeated and were associated with short, rapid, movements of the pelvis and legs… In addition to this behavior, the fetus contracted the muscles of the trunk and limbs, and then clonicotonic [prolonged spasms] of the whole body followed. Finally, she relaxed and rested.

They also noted “evidence of male fetuses’ excitement reflex in utero,” such as “erection” and masturbatory movements.

In 1995, the British science series Equinox was the first to broadcast ultrasound footage of a male fetus playing with himself. One doctor, Dean Edell has gone so far as to write: “It is common during second trimester ultrasonography examinations to see the fetus touch itself repeatedly and rhythmically on the genitalia, offering proof that masturbation is rooted not in sin but in biology.” [emphasis added]

So much for the “it’s unnatural” argument. Masturbation is a normal, and (I would add) necessary, function of human sexuality.

So, if it’s natural, why all the beef about masturbation, you ask? Active disapproval of masturbation has largely been based around the widespread concept that the supply of semen is limited. In ancient Chinese culture, masturbation among men was forbidden, as causing irreparable loss of male essence. Similar ideas are the foundation for the majority of attacks on masturbation. Beginning in the 18^th century, descriptions by religious zealots of men gone mad through excessive masturbation led to generations of hysterical anti-masturbation texts. Gadgets inhibiting masturbation and even operations such as adolescent circumcision were done as a way to discourage masturbation. Some young girls were subjected to chastity belts, modified girdles, and in extreme cases, clitoridectomy. Even Freud agreed that habitual masturbators caused harm to their psychological well-being.

Paradoxically, societal attitudes to masturbation have probably varied more than any other sexual act. For example, masturbation is not mentioned in the catalogue of sins in the book of Spiritual Exercises (1548) of St. Ignatius Loyola, the founder of the Jesuits, but the hugely influential Catholic philosophizer and theologian St. Thomas Aquinas (1225-74) reviled masturbation as a sin worse than fornication. Aquinas dismissed female masturbation as “mere feminine lewdness,” probably because there was no spilling of seed.

However, nothing in the Bible directly condemns masturbation. The New Catholic Encyclopedia of 1967 calls it a “serious sin that will keep one from heaven,” but only quotes a verse stating that the “covetous” will never inherit the kingdom of God. From the looks of it, I wonder if I even want to inherit such a “Kingdom.” Sheesh!

Masturbation generally refers to bringing oneself to orgasm using manual stimulation. If this is accomplished with the help of a partner, it is called mutual masturbation, petting, or foreplay. Masturbation is a normal process of sexual development and maturity. Boys generally begin ejaculating between the ages of 10-13 years. One researcher has concluded that masturbation is like sexual rehearsal and if interfered with, can lead to sexual dysfunction in adult years.

As I noted previously, the late 17^th and early 18^th centuries marked the beginning of a two-hundred year period where masturbation came to be viewed as a form of unhealthy self-abuse by the morally degenerate or mentally ill. This led to widespread public phobias that resulted in many cases such as the one reported in the 1894-5 edition of the International Medical Magazine:

A doctor in Ohio decided to eliminate a girl’s desire to masturbate by cauterizing the clitoris. When this failed to bring the desired effect, he infibulated the area with a silver wire. These she tore loose and in a final effort, he cut out the clitoris. Adults have been castrated. As late as 1897 a man was documented to have had his penis amputated as a cure for masturbation.

As with anything else practiced to an extreme, masturbation can potentially have harmful side-effects, but this can be said about almost anything. One unintended consequence of experiencing orgasm primarily through masturbation is premature orgasm. I remember explaining to my son after I accidentally caught him jacking off that masturbation is ok (just don’t fuck up our bed sheets! LOL!), but over dependence on masturbation can lead to premature ejaculation. The hand is not a good substitute for a vagina, and clenching your cock with a tight-fisted king-fu grip can never be emulated by a vagina, I don’t care how many kegels a woman performs.

In addition, this can be a problem for women who rely primarily on masturbation toys and their hands to achieve orgasm. No man can ever hope to reproduce the vibrations created by sex toys and if that’s all you’re doing, it could lead to some dissatisfaction with sex. In other words ladies, go get some fuckin cock once in a while and learn how to ride that tiger in the quest for some old-fashioned mutual orgasm.

Some would say that regular masturbation helps one’s ability to orgasm by keeping the pubococcygeus (PC) muscle toned. This muscle covers the genital region from the mons pubis to the anus. We all know by now that a physician named Arnold Kegel developed an exercise that improves the PC’s muscle tone. How cool it is to have a vaginal exercise named after yourself, huh?!!

For the devoted masturbators among us there are masturbation parties where people come together to meet and partake in mutual masturbation. Safe sex kits are supplied and some add to the festivities by wearing costumes.

One final note: there is no universally accepted theory as to how often one should masturbate. Some men regularly masturbate as often as six times a day with no apparent harm. However, as I mentioned above, men and women who masturbate excessively may risk becoming too accustomed to the stimulus of the hand, which often cannot be equaled by stimulus in intercourse. Abstaining from masturbation for a period of time can restore sensitivity. For my purposes, masturbation should be seen as a thermostat for our emotional well-being and should be used according to a person’s needs.

Sex is good for you…

Love,

Eddie

WTF Chinese Pedobear Sex Ed Nursery School

In today's WTF China Daily News, it has been reported that many people in Beijing, Shanghai and other Chinese cities have become quite concerned about a small privately run nursery school named "Readers" located in Zhengzhou. This small school has recently introduced a new kind of sex education class with "live versions of dolls" or toy dolls which include complete replicas of human reproductive organs.

On Saturday, September 3rd the below news video was broadcast on China's CNS TV:



The owner of the school claims that most of their sex education classes are "custom made, and others from some of the children's parents."

Also China's Ten Cent News , a subsidiary of Japan's 3Yen Daily News Organization, recently reported the following dialogue heard from within the "Readers" pedobear training center nursery school:

Hou teacher asked: "So how did you go into the womb of it?"

Girl Momo answer in a show of hands: "father's sperm to find the mother's egg, and then I had planted in the womb!"

"Her answer was right?"

"Right!"

"Well, that is how sperm find the egg it, come join us to do a finger exercise it!"



See also:

Chinese Tentacle Pink Penis Fish

How to Become A Pedobear

The Friday Sex Blog [Sex and Lies, pt. I]

¡Hola! Everybody...

Well, this weekend marks the official end of summer. Personally, I would like to extend my gratitude to all the women who, in the quest for attention, paraded their scantily and seductively clad teats and asses for my benefit. I want you all to know that your efforts are truly appreciated. Keep up the good work!

* * *

-=[ Sex Lies, pt. I ]=-

Men aren’t looking for true intimacy and liberation; they’re just looking to get laid.

This myth is one of my pet peeves. I hear it all the time and it’s up there with the lie that women aren’t looking to get laid. Bullshit.

The fact of the matter is not many people of either sex are actually looking for liberation, at least not until a very long and weary trail of life-long disappointments. And those “declaring” a need for intimacy have a funny definition for the word because intimacy requires surrender and trust and how many people have you met that are truly willing to open up and not merely pay lip service to what amounts to a vague notion of intimacy?

Liberation and intimacy is not something that’s really at the top of people’s list of things to do, right up there with finding that job, or “The One.” Perhaps this is an indication of out of whack priorities or lack of concern for substance, but personal growth is not a top priority and that’s certainly not an attitude limited to men.

Of course, men are expected to be horny -- all the time. God forbid a man would tell his mate he has a headache. LOL! We’re supposed to be at the ready, rock-hard cock in hand, at a moment’s notice. We’re perceived as natural for wanting sex, but that desire is also viewed as weak because the “little head” will eventually lead the “big head” astray, as if our fantasies were our vulnerable spot, our inherent weakness. And don’t you ladies have a grand laugh when you view the results. The ambiguity is such that you grant men sexual feeling as if it were inevitable, but then ridicule us for what you believe is our unavoidable undoing.

But what is this desire after all? I’ll tell you what it is: it’s the wish to feel sexual ecstasy with another person, to feel yourself completely inside another person’s body, to feel your own body open and wanting. As far as I’m concerned, that’s a noble purpose to aspire to and it deserves respect.

“But Eddie,” you might say, “it’s not always like that! Some people are totally removed and distant when they’re having sex; it’s all about ego, a notch on the belt.” And my response to that is: And?

Sure, there are some cold motherfuckers out there, whipping it in and out and walking away. The true irony is that even their stunted efforts are a warped search for connection -- for that fleeting moment ego defenses disappear, tumbling down and opening -- however fleeting -- to a connection in which they feel something superior and more complete than at any other time.

Shit, If we men can’t express that longing to our lovers, openly and without fear of being stigmatized, it’s not because there’s something twisted about sexual desire that serves to get in the way; it’s that fuckin’ committee in the brain that shames us and shuts us up. Yet every time we get laid, that’s another opportunity for opening up, for a chance to discover true intimacy.

Face it: A man who wants to get laid, is a man who wants to stay in the human race. Instead of ridiculing or marginalizing that yearning, why don’t we as a society perceive it as a positive and look more carefully at the nature of his sexual motivations.

It often seems like a miracle when you first cross that erotic bridge and discover that someone wants you. Especially if you’re convinced that you will be forever alone and unloved in this cold world. And you get laid -- again and again -- and the confidence acquired leads to you to new questions and new answers about the value of sex, about a lover’s needs and companionship in our lives, about this embodied sense of adventure and mystery.

And you know what? At that point, some of us are experiencing sexual liberation, whether we’re giving it a name or not. Some men will begin to question accepted norms of what a man is supposed to do and act like and will no doubt find many things oppressive and unnecessary. Just in case you haven’t received the memo, ladies, most men don’t want to sacrifice their emotions and sexual expression to outdated, anxiety-provoking and harmful concepts of masculinity. This is the first stage of the sexual liberation: not buying into outdated models of manhood and masculinity. Refusing to buy into or questioning the way things are is a revolutionary attempt of liberation in itself. It is a subversive act.

You should be happy to meet such a man for he still harbors a hope that there’s something better out there.

And he’s right.

Love,

Eddie

Life Sex In Thursday-emo girl,Lesbian girl

Life In A Day - no life

FACEBOOK:http://facebook.com/TheOnlyLuca
my short, not well edited video from Thursday 1st september 2011
Cute Girl Sexy Piercing

this is my first facial  piercing!
it stung a little,
hence the face i make lol.
i also apparently bleed a lot;
like half the video is of me bleeding .it looks cute nowi love it.
btw i got it at Exist Body Art

Gorgeous emo / scene girls

Emo girls are cuteand sexy

 Lesbian Kiss Emo Girl Sexy

Sexy Lesbian Girls French Kissing

 

A small movie sample of the famous lesbian movie Unfaithful 5 from Viv Thomas. Just a deep french lesbian kiss, but what a kiss Nella and Lisa eat litterally the mouth of each other. Probably one of the most passionate and hot french kiss between two girls

Today's "Things that once seen, cannot be unseen" brought to you by our friend Azure Ghost.

Oooh that's just not okay!

But hey, it is perfect for today's caption contest.

Fire up your imaginations folks, this should be a cake walk for most of you!

(P.S. I am leaving for the Alaska State Fair in about an hour, but I should still be able to okay comments with my handy dandy I-Phone. Hmm I wonder if I will run into anybody "interesting" at the fair?)

Sexual Gatekeepers versus Soulkeepers

My ex-ltr called me to see how I'm doing in the midst of all my family troubles (very sick relative) and we commenced a conversation about relationships and sex.  Two things I loooooove to talk about.  He had some opinions on frenchi which weren't terrible but more along the lines if he's not giving you what you need then move on.  He was more interested however in talking about how easy it is for women to get laid and how he'd like to experience it for himself.  He feels I'm hot enough to span the demographic of ages and could have whoever I wanted in bed.  I find this funny because what he says is true in some respects, but not at all what women want.  He really wants to be a man in a woman's body and have sex.  I think he'd rather sex up women if that was the case, because otherwise he'd have to be penetrated by a dude.

Women do hold the cards in sexual engagement.  We are the gatekeepers.  I know that and yet feel no power in it.  Okay, maybe a little.  I know I could have sex with multiple partners every day of the week if I wanted to, even at the same time.  Men don't say no easily.  Men aren't as picky in who they'll bang either.  I work at being fit and keeping myself attractive which simply ups the quality of man, not the quantity.  Quantity is high for basically any woman if she so chooses.   A man's dream to have that much access to sex right?

Women are biologically wired not to desire that, which is where it gets confusing for men.  Even my ex-ltr was encouraging me to go out and do the nasty with more men, I think he was picturing living vicariously through my experience.   I find no joy in picturing myself with man after man simply living for the next sexual thrill.  don't identify with the PUA's on men's sites.  Sure there are women out there who will but my belief is they are looking for a man who will fall in love with her and they believe being sexually expressive will help.  If I've learned one thing at Roissy, men love sluts but they don't want to marry them.

I used to play an online game called Secondlife, it was a place I could express sexual fantasy outside of my bedroom.  I was quite the slut and had many men vying for my attention when I got online.  I can write dirty like nobody's business.  It was thrilling to be sought after in the virtual community.  I had a hot avatar and spent a little money in making her look realistic, but it was really what I said in my little chat box that had the men buzzing like bees.  I later learned that a lot of women avatars in Secondlife are actually men.  They knew they could get more by being a woman than by being a male, because even in virtual life women are choosy.  I found this out because men would ask me if I was a woman.  I thought that was a dumb question, not realizing the proliferation of males in the game itself.  I'm a bit nerdy so I was able to survive a bit of a steep learning curve where many women bow out.

Men and women have totally different power holds in the sexual marketplace.  Women to their bodies and men to their souls.  Both genders seem to want what they don't have.  Bottom line is we are responsible for what we want, need, desire and can't blame a gender when we don't get it.  Far too often we're unaware of what drives us, we confuse biological and emotional drives and we 'f' up because of it. Even now more aware of what drives the sexes I still am confused, it's a struggle for me to separate the two and only in crisis have I become more aware of my emotional side.  I damn well better learn something I tell myself...

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.

The Friday Sex Blog [Expressions]

¡Hola! Everybody…

It’s Friday, it’s summer, and I ain’t got no job! Dang! I’m good! LOL

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-=[ Expressions ]=-

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us.

-- Marianne Williamson, from: A Return to Love

Every day, every waking moment, you desire to do many things, from hugging your lover to earning money. Why is this? What is the underlying motivation or feeling behind all your hopes and dreams? This is the dynamic tension between who you really are and who you assume yourself to be. Our desires reveal who we really are.

Let me explain, dearest…

Take your desire for an intimate relationship as an example. There are countless reasons for engaging in a relationship. But the fact is that you only feel completely fulfilled in intimacy when you and your lover trust each other so implicitly that you feel free to let down your guards, open, and love. This is your deepest desire in intimacy because the actual truth is that you are love, but you perceive yourself to be a separate, isolated individual. So you scheme and often manipulate, and dream to experience in your relationship what, in reality, you already are.

Here’s a good one, one I grapple with as well: we want to experience financial security. In truth, however, we are abundance, although we assume only sustained effort will provide a feeling of ease. You engage in high-risk behavior because you perceive it as living on the edge, but the truth is that every moment you are at the edge of death -- the ultimate edge of winning and losing -- but your fabricated security makes you seek risks. You want to eat that box of chocolates because, dearest, deep down inside in your heart of hearts, you are blissful fullness, though you may have closed yourself from its pleasure and seek its aftertaste instead.

And in this way you wander through your daily acts of “living,” seeking to approximate the truth of you are -- the you that you have lost contact with. This drama of approximation is the story of your life. You even admit at times, when the lows get too low. You never quite succeed like you really hope to. You never quite get the love you really want. And so you either get on the treadmill or give up trying. In either case, you are missing the point of existence.

The uninhibited expression of who you really are is the only thing that will set you free from the trauma of feeling incomplete. The truth is, dearest, you are what you want.

The farther you stray from your genuine self, the more you crave the qualities of your genuineness. Since you have blinded yourself from the love that you are, the love that lives inside of you, you look to your lover to cherish you. Exiled from your home of unlimited openness, you seek instead to expand the sphere of your influence, the size of your stock portfolio, the borders of your country. Seeking the freedom of ease that is already your part of your inherent nature, you try to discharge stress through masturbation, watching TV, and all those secret habits of release. You miss the simplicity of being, so you seek it in the warmth of a heroin rush, a fluffy bed, unsafe sex, or a box of chocolates.

Then there are the times you fret over your appearance, seeking outside of yourself to find the radiance already possess. And you think to yourself constantly, almost obsessively, in order to provide a mirror reflection of your own presence. Yet, in truth, you are sheer presence, whether or not you reflect yourself by thinking.

Dearest, whenever you are ready, you can stop trying to find what you’re dismissing and start being who you are in truth. Yes, to surrender in this way, this completely, is utterly terrifying -- all that work you’ve done on your self image instantly vanishes. Yet, this is the only real way to live. Otherwise every moment you live you live missing who you truly are, and in that way you create a self-image that isn’t the real thing. You feel a lack. This tension of a deficiency winds into an intense knot of desire. Eventually, it warps you.

Divorced from and craving the depth that you miss, you may find yourself engaging in risk-behavior, self-abuse, and manipulating and terrorizing others -- or perhaps just sitting in front of the TV and indulging in “comfort food.” No matter how extreme or mundane your misplaced efforts become, you always have the option of opening as your source. In the grips of that obsession with chocolate (or a cock), you can open as the abundance of the life-force that you are. How would you act if you connected with your inherent abundance? Open as you are, the knot unwinds…

Caught in the trap of the Gordian knot of your desires, your most naughty moments of perverse indulgence, as well as the rounds of daily life, you are missing who you truly are. Instead, through constant practice, you can open as every twist and hope. You can live as love, alive and spontaneous. The fact is, dearest, your deepest desires are who you are.

Love,

Eddie

Today's feel good story of the day features an anti-gay marriage Republican caught propositioning an 18 year old male on Craiglist for sex. Wow, that DOES make me feel good!

Rep. Phillip Hinkle fondles his bullwhip.

Courtesy of TPM:

An Indiana state Representative, who recently voted for a constitutional amendment that would ban gay marriage, has been accused of using Craigslist to offer an 18-year old male $80 for "a couple hours of your time tonight" plus a tip "for a really good time." 

The Indianapolis Star obtained e-mails sent from Rep. Phillip Hinkle's (R) publicly listed personal address, responding to a Craigslist posting by Kameryn Gibson that said "I need a sugga daddy." Gibson told the Star that the post was in the "Casual Encounters" section under m4m, or men for men. He used his sister Megan's e-mail address -- and she later sent the e-mails to the Star. 

"Cannot be a long time sugar daddy," says the e-mail response from what is allegedly Hinkle's address, "but can for tonight. Would you be interested in keeping me company for a while tonight?" 

"I am an in shape married professional, 5'8", fit 170 lbs, and love getting and staying naked," the e-mail says. 

Another e-mail says: "If u want to consider spending night u might tell ur sis so she won't worry. Would have u back before 11 tomorrow. No extra cash just free breakfast and maybe late night snack."

You know I think it is just precious that Rep. Hinkle does not want the family of his boy-toy to worry while he defiles him for money, and that he also wants to make sure his nutritional needs are met before he delivers him back to his sister's house in the morning. Pure class!

I believe that Rep. Hinkle sounds like a fairly reasonable gentleman living a life of quiet desperation, as he pretends to despise the very lifestyle that he wishes he could embrace openly. (Update: Well fairly reasonable that is until he told this kid he could not leave the hotel until "we do what we need to do," and then had his wife offer the boy and his sister $10,000 to keep quiet about the incident.)

It is just too bad that according to the belief system of the party that he has sworn his allegiance to he will now have to burn in the fiery pits of hell for his sinful nature. Sucks to be gay in the Grand Old Party.

I cannot tell you how amazing I find it that these powerful men, with everything to lose, openly respond to advertisement on Craiglist. You would think that after the Rep. Chris Lee scandal that NOBODY in Congress would even log into Craiglist.

The Friday Sex Blog [The Collazo Sisters]

¡Hola! Everybody...

Seeking work is more work than actual work. Just sayin’…

Summer reruns!

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-=[ Blame The Collazo Sisters ]=-

A woman’s behind -- an altar to be worshiped on one’s knees.

-- Me

Actually, the title is incorrect: we shouldn’t blame all the Collazo sisters, only Nellie Collazo’s big sister, Delilah. But there are all manner of connection in all this...

Nellie Collazo was in my eighth-grade class. She was a Taina princess -- long, straight dark brown hair that brushed the tops of the cheeks of her cute little ass. Her translucent skin was like cinnamon and when she smiled, it was like the sun coming out after days of cloudiness.

I am convinced to this day that Nellie descended from Taino royalty.

All year I entertained fantasies about Nellie, but I was too shy to ever say anything to her. My two friends would tease me about it all the time. Finally, about a month before the junior high school “prom,” I managed to muster up the courage to ask her.

Me: “Would you be my prom date?” Or something to that effect.

She: “No.”

I was heartbroken. I was very shy, a nerd, and girls always made me nervous. I had other options. There was the impossibly and prematurely developed Susana Susana (that was her name!). Susana looked like what I imagined a young (and dark brown) Mae West would like look and her sexuality -- even at 13 -- smoldered. To look at Susanna was to see the smoke-filled rooms and smell the rum I’m sure she ventured later in life. She had the habit of cornering me between classes and trying to cop a feel and kiss me. I hated it.

That summer, I was sent to a special program for gifted students and I would fall in love for the first time, but that’s another story. What happened that summer was that I made a conscious decision to transform myself. I did a fashion and personality make-over. I was too dammed shy and wearing a suit and tie everyday to school (thanks mom!) wasn’t cool. I discovered that I could be funny in an insightful way and that humor was a great way to approach women, so I honed my craft that summer and polished my image.

That September, I entered high school with my new cool make-over: I was known for my long, black cashmere coat, and my favorite ensemble (wardrobe makeover made possible with the financial help and fashion sense of my mother), was a black Italian knit (it had three barely noticeable electric blue stripes on each side of the buttons), and black sharkskin pants. And, of course, a pair black suede and leather “Playboys” (shoes).

You may laugh at this today, but back then, that was the shit. I cut my hair in a modified “Caesar” look all the bad boys wore, and -- voila! -- a new Eddie emerged. I was still intellectually inclined and at fourteen, I was in the process of reading “every great book ever written,” but I was also “cool.” I was also part of “College Bound” a program implemented by the City of New York. It was an effort to identify gifted students, what I would later jokingly call the “talented tenth,” and segregate us from the rest of the unwashed and stupid black, Latin@, and poor white masses. I attended a school that housed close to 3,000 students in a building that was meant to house half that number and the average class size was probably 35-40 students. Students in the College Bound program would attend classes that had, at most, 10-15 students. More often I took classes that had less than ten students. The idea being that smaller classes would allow teachers to give more specialized instruction to the students.

I was on the Dean’s List -- a straight- A student -- but I was also cool, and I became very popular. My school was also a dangerous place. the hallways, bathrooms, locker rooms were all places where the “bad students” the one’s abandoned by the state and the city, would congregate and sell drugs, smoke cigarettes, engage in sex, and extort the more meek. I happened to be friends with some of the riff raff, many of them having grown up with me. So, I began then to travel the different worlds I would travel all of my life. I was as likely to appear on the Dean’s List as well as with the guy who would take your lunch money at the point of a knife.

One of my friends was Michael. Michael was an abandoned child who was raised by numerous different adults, related and not. He was also the one child no mother wanted you to hang out with. Michael was famous for sniffing glue, something popular in those days. He was also the only Puerto Rican I knew that wore his hair in the style of the Partridge Family’s David Cassidy. That was a huge fashion fuax pas in the black and Latin@ ‘hood we grew up in but though he looked nothing like the wildly popular pop star, he managed to carry it off and the girls loved it! LOL

One day we all decided to go to the movies and who was with Michael the Glue-Sniffer? None other than my Taina princess, Nellie Collazo! Not only that, he treated her like crap and she even paid for his entrance and bought him candy!

I was conflicted and Michael, who was in actuality an extremely intelligent young man, just laughed, said, “They’re all ho’s Eddie.”

I was stunned, but I learned an important lesson about the allure of a bad boy that day. More importantly, it was the first time I laid eyes on Nellie’s older sister. They didn’t look like sisters at all. Nellie’s older sister was light-skinned with curly light-brown hair and her eyes -- impossibly large --were a wicked shade of yellow.

It was winter and she had a coat on and Michael, noting my gaze, whispered, “She’s a stuck up bitch, you’ll never get that.”

At that point in time, I considered Michael a sexual genius (which speaks volumes as to how little I knew). After all, he had Nellie, she of the Taino royalty ancestry, smoking his cock in the balcony of the movie we went to that day.

A couple of years passed and I was walking up those notoriously dangerous Bushwick High School stairways in-between classes when I looked up.

And that’s when it happened.

I looked up and what I saw changed my life forever.

Right there, just a few steps above me was the most rounded, most deliciously curved ass I had ever seen in my life. Up until then, I never paid much attention to the female derriere. It was just something you fondled on your way to the flower of a woman’s vagina or the buds of her breasts. But this was no ordinary ass. It was perfection personified. It was rounded, just the right size, and the owner of that ass had the smallest waist I had ever seen on a woman. It seemed that if I tried, I could wrap my hands around her waist and my fingertips would touch. She was curvy, but lean and she moved like a sleek cat -- all stealth, sex, and grace.

I walked up those stairs in rapture.

I guess she sensed something, quickly turned around, demanded, “What are you doing?! Are you staring at my ass?”

Me, “I’m praying.”

She, “Praying? What are you praying about?”

I was debated if this was a good tact to take, decided it would be foolish, but blurted it out anyway, “Your glorious derrière.”

And she laughed -- a strange sound that sounded like a song. She was beautiful in every sense of the word. Her small, pert contemptuous breasts defied gravity. And those eyes! Those wickedly yellowish/ amber, impossibly large eyes framed by exquisitely formed cheekbones that came out to here. But most important, Nellie’s older sister had the Most Beautiful Ass in the World.

“Very funny,” she said, the hint of a smile on like a playful sprite above her coral lips destroying her attempt to affect an indignation she obviously didn’t feel.

Seeing an opportunity, I jumped on my chance, decided I needed to say something, but not knowing what else, I managed, “I’m also a genius.”

At that she laughed. "Really," she asked playfully.

Me, “Can I walk you to class?”

She, “No!”

Me, “You would rather I continue to stare?”

She ignored that last bit and turned around and continued with that divine ass of hers. I watched, and she knew I was watching, but didn’t complain or protest.

As she left to go on to her class, I asked, “Do you come by this way often?”

She, “Everyday! Wow, you are a genius,” and she laughed again. Her eyes were an open invitation I wasn't sure of.

Every day, I would wait for her and follow her up the stairs and everyday she would appear. She wouldn’t engage me in conversation except to inquire if I still prayed.

My answer was always, “Everyday at this time.”

And she would let out that musical laughter that so enraptured me.

One day I didn’t show, I was making out with Cinderella -- well, not that Cinderella, but Cynthia, who I called Cinderella for reasons I can’t get into at this juncture. And little by little, I would stop waiting for Nellie Collazo’s Big Sister's Ascencion. Besides, she had a parade of worshipers, I realized, that walked up the stairs with her. It was like a holy procession. Besides, Cinderella adored me and she would let me taste the fruit of her lips and her wondrously pale, puffy nipples.

One day, totally by accident, I looked up and again saw that wondrous ass and I swear the fuckin' the angels sang.

She turned around and asked, “Where have you been?”

I answered, “I haven’t been praying lately, my goddess refuses to answer my prayers.”

She laughed, the amber in her eyes sparkling, and teased, “And what would your prayer be asking?”

Me, “That I could walk you to your class, then take you out on a date, and someday taste the dew on your bottom lip.”

With that, she turned around without saying anything and looking over her shoulder (to make sure I was praying to her ass, I guess) said, “You can walk me to my class, and I would like to go out with you, but I want to know... ”

to be continued...

Love,

Eddie

Why Celibacy Is Cool

The subject has come up lately about why I'm not dating anybody. And when I stopped to think about it, coming to the conclusion that I'm pretty happy with my life just as it is, warts and all, I asked myself the question: "Oh yeah, you haven't been with anyone since the ex. What's up with that?"

I think it's safe to say that after a year or more of no sex, no romance, no nothing of that nature, you're pretty much celibate.

SEX AINT ON THE BRAIN

I don't go out thinking that I could potentially find a lover.

"Pick up" for me refers to hors d'oeuvres, not sexual experiences. You know, I'm pretty sure I could snap my fingers at any horny toad after a few drinks, but that's not my modus operandi. Also, I don't dress to impress, even if I might wear something that flatters the generous girls hanging from my chest. I am totally WYSIWYG (what you see is what you get).

You better love me with or without makeup, with or without Manolo Blahniks and/or cheap, gas station rubber flip flops. I don't do online dating anymore and I am not on the "prowl" like some friends say when we're joking about Cougars. (Don't be offended, younger men, but as cute as you are, that's not a lifestyle choice for me.)

"Sex" is not part of my social agenda. I'm just being me all the time, completely authentic. No roles, no drama. The corny, overused and misused Zen phrase "it is what it is" pretty much guides me.

And I think it's totally cool to say I'm good with all of that.

I *could* have more, but I choose to, prefer to, not to have more of all of the bs that would come with a more complex life.

Does that make me a freak?

If I say "I don't give shit about sex" will you find that strange? Ok, fine, I'll own that.

Proudly.

OH THE IRONY

But there's more to this than meets the eye.

Rather ironic for Sex and the Beach, I know, but sex is overrated. (Not the first time I've written about that, but formerly a sweet potato was involved.) Actually it's not sex -- but rather all the drama and anxiety associated with romantic connections that is basically a huge tax on human existence -- it's all that crap I would rather do without, thank you.

Maybe it's all the yoga I've been rediscovering lately. Maybe it's becoming more mature with age and gathering wisdom. Maybe it's my hormones drying up in some pre-menopausal party. Whatever it is, I do know this: I just don't give a fuck about fucking and I'm all the better for it.

I want to make something clear. I am not running away from romance. I am not choosing celibacy to avoid the inevitable challenges that come from two people trying to make a life together. I just don't want bullshit imitation drama romance sex.

Yeah, please don't get me wrong. Sex is awesome. Sex is an amazing thing. Sex is a wonderful way to connect passionately with another human being. Sex is primal. Sex is a natural and beautiful expression of all that is human when it is done with good, honest intentions, even sex for sex's sake.

A life-altering, passionate union should be on everyone's bucket list. And hell, I'm not even talking about intercourse. Sex in all its glorious manifestations is an ingredient in life's bounty, even if it's just touching, holding or kissing. I will light a candle to the altar of true sensuality any day.

And yes, sex makes babies, if that's your thing. Nothing wrong with that.

But, I think, at least for me, it's an all or nothing experience at this point in my life.

SOMETIMES SEX IS NOT ABOUT SEX

Just look at what I wrote above. All this good stuff, right? But what about the cons?

How many people do you know or have had sex with who actually really have had sex to connect with you? How much of sex is not just some self-satisfying, masturbatory experience? How much of sex is not some self-serving marketing and pubic relations campaign? How much of sex is your ego using that as a form of manipulation to claim ownership of another person? How many people do you know who are cry babies, needing this or that, getting totally wrapped up in some drama of some kind even in relationships that are not sexual? How much of you is really involved in the sexual experience? Do you honestly let go or are just playing by some rules -- some artificial category that the other has created in order for you to be pleasing and subdominant, to maintain some status quo?

Seriously. I could go on and on with questions ...

How does his sticking his penis inside of you have to do with how you are evolving as a spiritual being in this life path? Because if that's what you're using to satisfy your relationship craving, that better be some good dick!

I think it's safe to say many women can admit to ALL of the above. It's part of being human. It's part of the lessons learned.

DOUCHE YOUR SPIRIT

There's something to be said about purity of mind and purity of soul -- yes, something to be said about cleansing the mind of all the drama the ego craves. That's really the whole point of celibacy, if you look at it from a yogic perspective. I'm not the first tantra-focused yogi to say something similar.

Develop a relationship with self first. It means you put your energy elsewhere, harnessing it for a higher purpose and all kinds of creativity. It is liberating and absolutely freeing to not have the anxiety associated with desire and craving. It is wonderful to feel universal love -- a love that is not about "me" but about something more lasting, something bigger than me.

I'm not sure how to describe this. But instead of feeling lonely, I feel like a huge balloon of love has burst inside me, and I never, ever feel alone even if I am in a reclusive writer mode or I am simply enjoying something out there in the world on my own. My heart expands. This is so much better than the ego-driven complications of sex and romance. I am loving on a whole other level that I was not capable of when I was younger.

It means that I go out, live my life, have everything I need, give up attachments to major material things, without worrying about what's missing. I am living, walking, breathing love all the time. Just because I'm not giving someone a blow job doesn't mean I'm not loving.

Love is a universal right. Those who can do so in a mutual sexual expression that is bound by respect and honor are very lucky. But it's not limited to lovers. You can be a lover and still be celibate.

I guess that's what I'm trying to say. You are not "without" love just because you aren't dating or having sex or romantically involved with someone. And that love, that feeling of connectedness is a very powerful drug you can tap into. My arm is attached to that universal IV of yummy satisfaction 24/7. Sex with the right guy would be icing on the cake. He would simply benefit from all this love.

The ancient yogis called this Bramacharya. I call it peace of mind. (See a Sex and the City clip at this New York yogi's website on the subject.) Even the principles of sexual tantra spell out that a union between two bodies will or should ultimately branch out as an expression of a greater, more humanity-oriented love.

THINK ABOUT THE PHRASE "HAVING SEX"

Is this how you are "having" sex? Is sex something you should "have" or is it a bigger part of yourself that you could never actually "have"? How can anyone "own" sex anyway? Because really, at the end of the day, that belly you are rubbing up against isn't going to be around forever and neither are you. What are making of this experience? Is it really love?

I sigh when I read what I just wrote. Some of the emptiest moments I've had in my life have been in the hot and heavy, sultry and sweaty daliances with an other. I call it existential sex that takes me out of the moment. I hate that. Clearly, those lovers didn't have a real spiritual hold on me or maybe I just wasn't mature enough to be "there" for them.

Good grief, people do so much shit to attract sex. They lose weight, they wear flattering clothes, put on makeup and just get all jacked up, but it's all like lemmings wanting to jump off the cliff. No one ever thinks to go inside and clean up all the emotional garbage, the practice of which I think should be a precursor for great sex. I don't care how hot you look or how good you can bang me in bed -- neediness, insecurity and all that bullshit is not sexy. And of course, it's certainly not sexy if I am the needy and insecure one in your embrace!

FREEDOM FROM SEX ANXIETY IS A LUXURY

Look inside before you make love. Are you really ready? Are you spreading your legs or just spreading yourself thin?

I think a lot of women can relate to that ... I'll admit I've spread myself thin before, not honoring myself at times when I was better off being celibate. And I know that's not love. It's genital exhilaration surely and more like an acrobatic exercise, a mediocre excuse for love, all physical pleasures aside.

Does this mean I will never enter a passionate union again? No. It just means I know what I want and will not settle for less. I think this is something every woman should feel. I'm lucky to feel it in my early 40s and to have this way of living, this freedom.

Does this mean I never actually connected to past lovers? No, I did. And I honor and thank the universe for giving me such experiences. Just because my ex-boyfriends didn't end up "ever after" doesn't mean I don't honor the love we shared. Marriage is great, but it does NOT define love in all its complexity!

Does this mean I never fantasize or think about someone I'm attracted to? No, of course not. That happens as well. And if have to, I'll relieve myself, but whenever and if I even want to. So no, I'm not living some monkish life devoid of pleasures.

The difference is that it all falls into place. The sex and romance thing doesn't stress me one bit. I am actually, by being celibate, approaching what it might be to actually be a great lover -- in love completely without being attached (yet) to one particular person.

YOU ARE MORE THAN YOUR VAGINA

Shit, I've even had to deal with the Cuban guilt trip about how not being a mother makes me an incomplete woman. I'm sure that pushing out a human from your vagina is an incredible experience and I know that raising a child is the most selfless, compassionate thing a person can do, but I'm not broken or "less" of a woman because motherhood hasn't been part of my path so far. Well, at least, I choose not to buy into that kind of thinking that wants to put me down and judge me negatively on the basis of having a uterus that hasn't incubated a rug rat. In fact, I think that having babies doesn't necessarily make you instantly compassionate or even a good human being. (Apologies to all you great mothers out there. I'm not referring to you.)

A relative whom I adore told me earlier today that "I'm sorry things turned out bad for you." But "things" are not bad at all -- just because I haven't taken the traditional path, haven't had a marriage and kids, and am currently not actively pursuing a dating life -- all of this doesn't mean I haven't honored life and done good in my own, quirky way.

Listen, women, there is no "traditional" path out there. It's what you make of it. Make your own tradition. You have the gift of life, use it. Create your life. Write your own story. For me right now, it's a path of celibacy and one that I'm proud to honor because it works for me. For you, it could be so many things -- singlehood, rediscovered life after divorce, a rekindled flame with a hobby, a career change that makes you jump out of bed in the morning -- who knows, whatever, seize it! Celibacy could be a time to nurture yourself and your passions outside of the bed sheets. It's not dry or boring in the least. Just be aware. Be conscious of it.

I'm just sharing a good practice here.

Think about it, you single ladies and my non-lady guys, too. I encourage others to try it out, even if it just means letting go of the "intention" to find a lover. Love yourself instead and focus on the people in your life who matter, just obviously in a non-sexual way.

Fall in love with your life, with just being alive, first, before falling in love with someone else you're going to share every fiber of your being with. The best sex is the kind you really believe in. Don't settle for anything mediocre. And when you do get there, don't forget to connect, be grateful and enjoy.