Puzzle Pieces of Relationships

Submitted from our guest blogger “Sexy Legs”:

Trying to find the right mate can be a lot like putting a puzzle together. It starts off a jumbled mess of random pieces that you want to assemble to create something beautiful. You look at the picture on the box to see where the pieces are supposed to fit until the image is complete.

Finding the right relationship is very similar. We all have the picture in our heads of what our perfect relationship is. As we meet new people and date we get closer to completing that image. We learn which pieces fit where, find some that don’t seem to belong anywhere, some that fit only on two sides, continuing the process until there is only one piece left. Though the process is tedious, we learn from it. Things we like, things we don’t, and all the while the image of that “perfect” relationship ideal becomes clearer and clearer as we add each puzzle piece. One day, that certain person comes along that is like the “last” puzzle piece. The one that fits perfectly in that spot and completes the image and makes it reality.

When they kiss you for the first time and you feel the electricity to your toes. When you hold each other and your bodies meld together, and the curves of your bodies just mold to each other. When you make love and it seems like you move as one. Effortless, just like that last puzzle piece. There is no need to twist or manipulate the piece to try to make it fit, it just slides into place completing the picture you have in your head.

I seem to have found my last puzzle piece. The person who just ” fits” on all sides. I continue to be amazed at how effortless the relationship has evolved. I had always heard people talk about someone being the yin to their yang but honestly thought it was all bullshit. I was a confirmed cynic when it came to love and romance.

I had been in serious relationships before, even been married, but never have I felt the “click” that I felt when I met this man. I could almost hear that last piece snapping into place. On every front we fit: companionship, ideals, values, and passion. It all just works with no effort at all and it feels wonderful.

So next time you have that bad date, or horrible breakup, just think that you are one piece closer to finishing your puzzle and finding that last perfect fit.

~ Sexy Legs {guest blogger}

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My sexual dating diatribe

Him:
So, what are you all about? What are you looking for on here?

Me:
Hmmm… that’s a loaded question. I’m not sure what I’m looking for on [insert ridiculous internet dating site name here] specifically … I have yet to find it.

From a life perspective, I’m looking for someone challenging enough to keep me interested; love life, sex and good times as much as I do — if it leads to more, then I’m interested. I’d love to be lost in a moment with someone and really have them care for me as much as I do for them … and be really sexually compatible.  I haven’t figured out if that’s too much to expect or realistic of another human being. Did I mention I like sex?

I’ve been deeply in love and I’ve had my share of flings that were as forgettable as a rainstorm. I’m okay with a great friend (with benefits) to spend time with too. After all, “dinner for one” night after night gets a little boring!

I keep giving it another shot until I find it. It’s the hard-headed redhead in me that refuses to give up. Bottoms up!

~ Globe Trotter in Lingerie

Evolution of online dating

It’s funny how my online dating experiences have evolved and I also see it in other profiles.

There’s that guy that is so possessive of himself that he gives off this giant “chip on the shoulder” attitude in his profile. He’s so adamant about a woman not “changing” him that he just puts it all out there. He’s the “I burp, I fart, I don’t have a job, I live with my mother and I don’t care what the fuck you think” kind of guy. I’m glad he’s confident in himself but I can’t imagine him ever giving a shit about me enough to even go on a date with that kind of attitude. What’s the point of even having a profile if you just want to be with yourself?

I consistently see folks that write “no drama and no games” in their profiles. How realistic and likely is this? Just because they met someone and fell for them hard and then got their heart broken they have now labeled it as a “game”? Perhaps the other person just didn’t see the world like they do and was unable to return the same feelings, emotions or physical connection. What is wrong with that?

Why would you WANT to be with someone that did not feel the same about you? Breaking up is hard but a necessity at that point – hearts mend over time. Don’t get mad because someone isn’t “right” for you.

The most boring clichés of online profiles:
– I’m laid back
– I’m easy-going
– I work hard and play hard too
– I don’t want drama or games
– I have a great sense of humor
– I’ve never done this before and I’m “just looking”

And then there’s the quintessential bathroom self-portrait … those just kill me. At least meeting people in bars was social interaction, with this online stuff I feel like I’m only getting lucky with my computer screen.

~ Globe Trotter in Lingerie

the first and last date

I’ve been the queen of One Hit Wonders and they are so frustrating. Even in my supreme efforts to vet each and every man prior to that first meeting I’ve been striking out lately. It all started with a guy I met about a year ago at a bar …

My coworker and I decided to bring our laptops to a local pub since our building lost power in a storm. Why not work and drink, right? We were chatting it up and I decided to ask her feedback on my online dating profile. A few beers later we were sending sassy messages to men and laughing very loudly at the bar. A rather cute man sat down next to me and asked what was so funny. I showed him our drunken shenanigans and he joined in too.

A few hours later I’d completely hit it off with this guy at the bar! It turned out that we were in the same career and had a lot in common. He was well-spoken, my age and from outside appearances, a GREAT guy. We met up a few times at the same bar over the next week and got to know each other more. We busily exchanged text messages and silly things via Facebook. But then I had to get my running shoes on …

One night in a drunken stupor [a week after we met] he proclaimed his love for me via text message at 2 AM. I actually said out loud “Are you fucking kidding me?” and ignored it. His perpetual “you are so beautiful” and “you have a perfect life” comments had already started wearing thin on me. I graciously accepted his compliments but yet held on to my imperfect sensibility and humble immortality – I’m not Barbie!

When I confronted the “love text” the next morning he had plenty of excuses for the behavior. I think then he realized he just created the opposite of what he intended. I’m not quite sure that I’d say I’m monogamy-impaired but I sure don’t want that noose squeezing me after a week of knowing the guy.

It happened again last week! I’m talking to a man and we get along GREAT. Yet before we even meet, he’s talking about how amazing I am and that he can’t believe I’m single … and how he wants to take a trip with me in October.  What the fuck dude?! What happened to dating and the elusive chase? The physical gestures and “I’m fucking you tonight” looks? He killed the first date before it even happened. I can’t fall for someone I’ve never met – just can’t do it.

Where have all the great guys gone?  Oh yeah, they are taken… or too far away … or just plain old American.

~ Globe Trotter in Lingerie

The Faux wine snob needs a cork in his …

Sex Kitten is still courting The Storyteller like he’s a babe in a stroller. I’m having a hard time getting over the fact that I was having sex with my first boyfriend and he was in diapers – it’s creepy.  I made dinner for the three of us and proceeded to down a bottle of Ménage à Trois at the dinner table. Fucking irony in a bottle!

One of my pet peeves is “faux snobs” that think they know everything about quality wines and beers and yet they pour themselves a Bud Light or a Sutter Home White Zinfandel. Classy, real classy. Does your mobile home have “rims” buddy? And he was desperately trying to convince me that Guinness is a great beer … after I already agreed on that fact. He must be Sherlock Fucking Holmes.

One of the first things in the dinner conversation was The Storyteller‘s previous endeavors as a “stripper”. I almost spit my wine out of my nose. He’s the furthest thing I’ve seen from stripper material I’ve ever seen in my lifetime. Do they work for pennies here? Half pennies? He did mention he hated tomatoes … now I know why. I would be throwing them at him for sure.

After that crazy dinner I lamented the fact that I have 4 married men that would fuck me, but yet no real promising single men waiting in the shadows. It’s getting a bit frustrating now. I desperately logged into my online dating accounts and returned some messages tonight. I guess I’ll see where that goes – they are all normal looking Americans.

~Globe Trotter in Lingerie

p.s. I forgot to give Sex Kitten the Bad Decision Tiara (BDT) back … she’s surely earned it on this one. Interesting that she can’t come up with a blog post but yet I’ve never heard a kind word spoken about him. Hmmmm?

Dating a Liar

See, the thing is that most people would list “honesty” as one of the top things they want in a partner. But in fact, everybody lies. We lie to avoid conflict, we lie to present ourselves in a better light, we lie to get what we want. So I’m not surprised when I catch a man in a lie. But sometimes the lies are so outlandish or so unnecessary that I am mystified. What on earth would possess an intelligent person to tell such a stupid fib?

The past three winners have told me A.) that he was doing cocaine but kicked the habit (trying to excuse bad behavior & get me back), B.) that he had slept with two girls when in fact he was a virgin (trying to avoid embarrassment), and C.) that he had a girlfriend, and then that he was moving to New York (trying to make me jealous and then trying to shock me into confessing my nonexistent feeling for him). All understandable motivations, so really what bothered me the most was that these guys would think that I would believe them. OK, I’m trusting, even gullible perhaps, but I’m not dumb.

Fast forward to this week, and I’ve gone on two dates with Jay. Let’s call him The Story Teller. If you believe everything he tells you, he’s lived an amazing life filled to bursting with exceptional experiences … home-schooled until he graduated from high school at 16 when he began college with the dream of becoming a surgeon, professional dancer, raped repeatedly as a child, engaged to be married twice by the age of 17 (once to a woman 10 years his senior, once to a girl pregnant with another man’s baby who miscarried when her father threw her down some stairs), ex-member of a cult (which he escaped by physically fighting his way out), experimented with gay sex, ex-stripper, twice attempted suicide, survived multiple drug overdoses and alcohol poisoning, now a dance instructor and aspiring professional pool player and psychology major and juvenile addiction counselor. And perhaps strangest of all, willing and eager even to talk about all of these things on a first and second date with a virtual stranger.

So if he’s lying, or at least strongly embellishing his life story, why? Is he a pathological liar that can’t help himself? Is his confidence so low that he thinks he needs to have all these tragic or exotic stories to be interesting? This is a 6’5″ well built, very attractive, well-spoken and well-written thoughtful and courteous 24 year old with a job(s), a car, and pursuing a masters degree. Granted, he lives with his parents but he’s 24 not 34 and going to school, so that’s not so bad.

I am utterly fascinated, totally bemused, and extremely wary. There will be no saying later that I didn’t see the red flags if it all blows up in my face. But I’m going down the rabbit hole… Liar or not, I’m hopelessly hooked.

So later, feel free to tell me, “I told me so.”

~ Sex Kitten (with claws)

Are you magically delicious?

In honor of St. Patrick’s Day we have a Lucky Charms marshmallow sex quiz:

Green clovers:
You’re a happy-go-lucky type in bed. You don’t take anything too seriously in the bedroom or elsewhere and always manage to have a good time, even if you have someone else with you.

Blue diamonds:
Your thoughts in bed are mostly about what you’ll get later. “If he really enjoys this, will he buy me that mink coat?” is probably what’s going through your mind.

Orange Stars:
You expect to be the center of attention in bed. You expect your partner to spend most of his time pleasing you and when you do something for him, you expect enthusiastic moaning if not applause. People who like orange stars often have mirrors over their beds, not because they are turned on by watching what is being done, but because they want to be able to watch themselves having a good time.

Pink hearts:
You’re the romantic type. You like your partner to whisper romantic phrases into your ear and, if he’s too distracted to form coherent phrases, you’ll settle for romantic syllables.

Purple horseshoes:
Your tastes are modern, uninhibited, and somewhat warped. You like variety in the bedroom, especially when you can include handcuffs, chains, swingsets, and chocolate pudding. Be careful when going out on a picnic with anyone who likes purple horseshoes–she’s likely to pin you down with croquet hoops when you’re not looking and who knows what could happen next?

Yellow Moons:
You’re more interested in satisfying your partner’s needs than your own. You prefer to lie back and wait for your partner to jump on you and express her needs verbally or nonverbally. People who like yellow moons usually own several pairs of handcuffs and other instruments of kinky sex just in case someone should ever want to tie them up and ravish them.

Those little oat bits that aren’t marshmallows at all:
You probably don’t like sex anyway and don’t need to read this article. People who prefer the oat bits usually become accountants, librarians who work at the reference desk, or government employees; these people like to chow down on a big bowl brimming with oat bits before a tough day of protesting suggestive lyrics in rock music.

It must be the red hair

If you’ve ever visited our Facebook page, you know that I like to have fun once in a while and do a “Red Head Sunday”. I’m working on one right now while I write this. I just love being a Ginger, but it took me quite a few years to grow into that love. I used to be “made fun of” for my white skin and freckles, and my typical sunburned skin in the summer months. Now I treasure my “different” look like no other.

I was eating lunch with a friend the other day and she commented on how men glance and sometimes stare when I’m around or pass them by. Even her husband noticed at the last event we attended. He said “does she know everyone is staring at her?” For some reason I never notice this unless someone points it out to me. If men are that visually attracted to me then why don’t they approach me?  Do I give off this “unapproachable vixen” vibe as well? I sure hope not! Even Sex Kitten thinks I’m a “Force of Nature” as she put it.

I have a birthday coming up this week and I was thoughtfully looking back on my dating life over the years. One simple fact is that I’ve NEVER asked a man on a date. That’s hilarious considering how many men I’ve dated minus the years with my ex-husband. I’m honestly not even sure how to pull it off … do I have the balls to do this?

So that’s my goal this year, I need to start “asking” instead of just going along with the hottie that approaches me. I don’t think it’s an insecurity issue or lack of self esteem, I think I just have terrible timing and I’m rather un-assuming about people’s opinions of me. I need to come to terms with how others see me and how I see myself. I don’t think I’m painfully lacking in self-awareness but it does throw me off a bit.

I think I might start by talking to the security guard at my office building. He’s a tall, dark and handsome type that always says “hi” and asks how my day is going. I’ve overheard the cleaning lady say “She’s so pretty!” to him as I leave the building so maybe she has him convinced and I’ll have bonus points for trying. I wonder if a redheaded tattooed sassy woman is his type … I’ll keep ya posted.

~Globe Trotter in Lingerie

Accepting truth and blowing off the hints

I have a lot of catching-up to do here. First off, Sex Kitten is right, I did hear from Airport Man via email. He said he’s been in Afghanistan but should be back in March and wants to come and see me – and of course he “thinks about me all the time”. Is there some sort of play-book here he’s writing from? I mean really, he must be horny at hell at this point. And then he signs off by saying “Have you thought about me from time to time?” Hmmmm … does thinking about his large throbbing dick count? That’s all I can remember right now … the licking, and kissing, and hot-as-hell sex. And it all just makes me super horny!

But the truth is, Airport Man is just not the guy for me. No matter how much my throbbing desires try to persuade me.

It’s gonna be a dry-spell kind of holiday … bring on the New Year!

~Globe Trotter in Lingerie

Size does count

I have yet to introduce The Man of My Dreams to the blog, but this was a recent conversation I had with him about The Boob Man and his limp penne pasta-sized penis.

Him: Oh, that whole post makes me feel much better about myself
GTiL: Ha ha! Good.
Him: I’ve only had my size questioned once and that was a nightmare…
GTiL: I’m sure she was full of shit. And hopefully without incriminating myself I can say that you are well above his league.
Him: All I can say is my length is above normal but I am not huge. I have also been told my girth is what most like.
GTiL: I agree that it’s more about girth than length. But I disagree with people that say “size doesn’t make a difference” Who the fuck are they kidding?
GTiL: It was hard for me to feel sorry for this guy because he sucked in bed. He almost deserved to have a small penis and he surely did not make up for it in other ways.
Him: I think that statement really means that if you are at least average you’ll be ok. I don’t think that statement is about the Penne Pasta guys.
GTiL: Ha! That’s true.
Him: I have a friend that complains about her husbands size all the time. I tell her that is what she gets for falling in love with the uniform and not the man in it.
GTiL: Wow, really? I don’t think I’d have the balls to complain about my husband’s penis size. And if it was not adequate I would not have a ring on my finger in the first place. Maybe I place too much importance on sex in a relationship?
Him: No you don’t and I have to admit I am very surprised she ever married this guy. She has a big addiction to sex and can’t figure out why she settled. She fell in love with a Navy man and that is as far as she looked I guess.
GTiL: There’s countless people in my life that have “settled” for the one they married. I’m really amazed by the numbers. I can’t do any relationship unless I’m completely infatuated and connected with someone – and the sex has to be damn good.
Him: So Penne boy is off that list I take it?
GTiL: Long gone!

Baby, please don’t let me be misunderstood

A caustic, analytical, and extremely intelligent person said to me several years ago, “You know what your problem is?”

(I love conversations that start that way, don’t you? Inevitably, I don’t know what my problem is, but I feel 10 inches small as I brace myself to hear what gaping flaw in my character is so glaringly obvious to others and yet such a mystery to me that someone might feel that they are doing me a favor by pointing it out in no uncertain terms.)

She said: “You need other people to understand you.”

And at the time, I thought, “Well, that isn’t so bad. I mean, doesn’t everyone want to be understood?”

Obviously, though, the comment stuck with me since that was about eight years ago. Eight years ago I assumed that the need to be understood was universal, that no one could feel fulfilled in a relationship of any kind without feeling understood and accepted by the other person. Recently, I have realized that I can’t “do” intimacy without it. I cannot connect with a person on a deep level if the other person doesn’t share that desire to learn about me and to tell me about himself in a meaningful way. I used to think that that quality was curiosity, and that’s what I have called it, but it is bigger than that.

I’ve also realized that the craving for mutual understanding and acceptance is a big part of what drives my fascination with horses. A horse very quickly begins to reflect your behavior towards him back, and if you’re playing the “inner game of horsemanship” as it were, then you know that when you are training a horse, what you’re really trying to improve is yourself. The horse becomes a kind of an immediate, physical, pure sort of feedback. Every ounce of aggression, impatience, frustration, or incompetence will show up. Each moment the horse asks your best of you, because he does not care if you called your mother today, or you fed him on time last night, if you paid your bills on time, or didn’t fold the laundry. He cares that you are present and trustworthy in this moment in time.

It’s probably not a good and healthy thing to need understanding at the level that I seem to require it. It is too close to needing people to like you, rather than to be who you are and let the people who like you, like you, and those who don’t fall away.

I talk a lot because I crave that understanding. I think that if can explain myself thoroughly enough, then you will truly see me for who I am. And I want that back from you. Small talk doesn’t do it for me… I want to know how you think, what your principles are, and what are your weaknesses, strengths, and passions. I want this kind of intimacy whether you will be in my life for a week or a year or forever. Without it, for me, any relationship quickly withers.

But I have realized more recently than I’d care to admit that even very intelligent, caring people do not need me to know all about them, or need to know all about me. My dad is at the top of that list. He is a loving, caring father. But my relationship with him has never been truly satisfying to me because I don’t feel like I know him. I don’t feel like he shares with me. He doesn’t ask me for a lot in return. He is a good man, and I love him and respect him. I feel obligated to be less emotionally needy when I’m around him, to accept less and receive happily what he is able to give me, which is a lot. I find myself trying to pare myself down, talk less, think less, be a little more self-contained. Perhaps it would improve me to move in this direction? Perhaps I would benefit from a person like that in my life as a balancing influence?

~ Sex Kitten (with claws)

P.S. If you enjoyed this post, check out this great post on the same subject by The Relationship Flunkie.

Profile: The Fetish

So, have you ever dated anyone with a fetish? I’m not talking about an “I think you have cute feet” type of thing, I’m talking about the kind of thing that when you are making love YOU are the third person in the room.

Milton had a fetish, and he was the very last guy on the planet that you would suspect of having non-traditional sexual preferences. He was as geeky and straight-laced as they come, although I’d like to think that our 2+ year relationship mellowed him out some. It certainly taught me a lot. At the top of the list of things that I learned was that sexuality is very individual, and very, very weird.

Milton’s fetish was fat. He loved fat women, he wanted to be fat himself (he wasn’t), and he was aroused by talking about weight gain, fat, and overeating. His ultimate fantasy was being grossly, debilitatingly fat and having sex with a woman so fat that she couldn’t move under her own power.

He kept this mostly to himself, not so much because he thought it was wrong, but because he knew how others would judge him. But of course as his girlfriend, I was very aware of it. I didn’t like it. It grossed me out. It brought up a lot of body image self-consciousness. It was the opposite of a turn-on for me. But I tried very hard to accept it. He couldn’t help it… it was literally the way he was wired sexually. And this experience gave me a very healthy respect for the immutable nature of sexuality. Milton had a thing for fat the way that gay people are gay. I couldn’t ask him to stop. He knew I hated it. But it was not going to change, and that was part of the full package of being with Milton.

I didn’t know about Milton’s fetish when we started dating. He was a virgin when he met me (although he lied and said he wasn’t, possibly the only thing he lied about in the 2+ years we dated), and I don’t even think he knew the extent of his fetish. Over the course of the relationship, my tolerance waned. Even as I came to understand fully that he couldn’t be any different, I resented it.  Before we broke up, I came to dread sleeping with Milton and would avoid it as much as possible. At the same time I felt guilty for not being able to get over my hang-ups. NOT a fun time in the bedroom for either of us.

This tension crept over into the rest of our relationship, or perhaps that was deteriorating on its own as well. I was getting ready to move on from a stagnant period in my life professionally and do some house cleaning personally as well. Milton was in it for the long haul… he wanted to be with me no matter what. As awful as our sex life had become, (for me, I still don’t even think he knows quite how miserable I was!) it was still agonizing for me to break up with him and move across the country.

I suspect that few people get to experience the kind of relationship that we were fortunate enough to have, outside the bedroom. He was 100% loyal and devoted to me. He truly loved me. He respected me and thought I was wonderful. We talked about everything and really cared what the other person thought. We never fought because we could discuss things and work it out. We could always make each other laugh. We were both thoughtful, introspective, positive, caring, curious people.

So lest you wonder why I stayed so long… there was a lot of baby in that bathwater. I may never find his equal.

(The story continues… read more about Milton in The Houseguest: Milton Reprised)

~ Sex Kitten (with claws)