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dysfunctionalwomansdigest

Sanity is overrated!

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May 2017

Kiss My Ass…Don’t Mind If I Do!

Finally!  The scheduled rendezvous arrived and my pump was primed.  I had been waiting to get my lips wrapped around this tasty testosterone for quite a few months and although I have been in a relationship of sorts, as the conclusion became inevitable my mind was caught repeatedly wandering to the prospect of rekindling some fire with my former flame.  Any healthy female can attest to the truth of the old adage “the best way to get one out of your head is to get another in your bed” and this prescription is strong and is backed by some pretty solid stats.

He arrived early in the morning and my senses were instantly alerted by his aroma, a musky cocktail of light perspiration combined with morning java and his natural deliciousness.  After nudging him into the bed and removing what was left of his clothes, I had him lay upon his stomach while I softly kissed his neck and back and then proceeded to his nether regions.  First kissing one cheek and then another, I had him maneuver up onto his knees and I slowly began to lick down the crack of his fine ass.  Deliberately, I  licked south and north and applied a mild pressure with my tongue to the area between his scrotum and that most secret of man-places.  He moaned with pleasure as I entered his bum with my firm and erect tongue.  I gently stroked his penis while applying a gentle, warm and wet tongue-lashing to his formerly off-limits behind.

For those females who have not yet dared to go where no man has gone before, I cannot encourage you enough to indulge your man with this exotic pleasure.  Not only will it trip your guy into the throes of ecstasy but you will be surprised at the powerful aphrodisiac that dwells between the tender balance of his vulnerability and your determination to seek his trembling capitulation.

Thank you, Steven Tyler!

Morning Rendezvous

Alas, my morning rendezvous had to be rescheduled.  There is nothing like the breakfast of champions to get a girl back on her feet and into the game once again!  I have something extra special planned for this one. 🙂

Complete

He came last night to pick up the rest of his stuff.  I waited with a mixture of anxiety, sadness, and relief.  I had learned a valuable bit of truth: in time everyone eventually reveals who they truly are inside.  Even me.  Although he wanted me to continue to store some of his stuff, I let him know that was not an option.  I needed to have this thing over and done and as it turned out, that is exactly what happened.  It is better to be single than to be in a relationship that based upon need.  I had to face the fact that it impossible to love what you need because the fear that it one day might not being there influences every thought and decision.  Only within the parameters of freedom based upon self-responsibility and self-care does it become possible for a mutually beneficial liaison to exist.

At the time he came into my life, I was facing an inevitable vacancy and despite my awareness, I rushed to fill it at the first opportunity.  He, on the other hand, had nowhere to hang his traveling job hat and I was only too willing to invite him to hang it at my address.  At first glance it appeared that the romance was fortuitous for both of us however, looking back and being completely honest, I know differently.  He needed a place to stay and I needed to fill an emptiness.  As time went on, I began to resolve the vacancy by stepping up and taking responsibility for my wants and needs and at the same time he began to come to a decision of what he really wanted and needed to do in his life and neither of those solutions required the continued involvement with each other!

Now that I have identified my part, I can be on the lookout for the signs of need that masquerade as romance and perhaps limit the casualties caused under the camouflage of friendly fire.  I know I sound completely at peace and mature and philosophical, however, honestly I am still a little pissed.  His deception was overt and ignorant and I can’t help but hear Donald Fagen singing, “You wouldn’t know a diamond if you held it in your hand…”  He definitely didn’t know and I should have had a clue when he threw my cashmere sweater into the washing machine…what a dumbass!  In any case, I have had to unlearn and relearn a lot of faulty information in my dealings with men and the learning curve has been humbling and painful.

So what does it mean to be “complete”?  For this woman, being complete means that the lesson was learned, the casualties were minimal, and both parties walked away without the involvement of law enforcement.  I really couldn’t have asked for more except that if only he had let me keep that 60” television…?!

Being Viking

One of my beloved chick friends (coincidentally, also my Muse) told me one day, “Lady, you are a fucking Viking!”  Stunned by this comparison, given that the Vikes were notoriously fierce, ambitious, and mofo tough, I did a little research on these blond-haired beauties and found that I concur 100% with the Muse’s estimation.  So in the spirit of observation, education, and affirmation, here are a few relatively similar facts between myself and my beloved Vikings!  (Cohen 1)

 

First of all, Viking women accrued property and had the balls to get a divorce and reclaim their stuff if the blondie in question was not true to his horn.   Check!

 

Second, the men got the groceries.  Now, this is what I’m talking about!  Anyone who knows me will tell you how much I hate the dreaded grocery store.  Check!

 

I do not wear a helmet (sorry to burst anyone’s fantasies!) and apparently, neither did those vicious Vikes cover their beautiful tresses with such a ghastly style faux pas.  Check!

 

I am resourceful to the bone; perhaps this talent was acquired by the combining of creativity and uncertain finances but I can make a gourmet meal and a stylish outfit from nothing more than what is in the fridge and a couple of yards of cloth.  I guess the Norse Lords were a bit more pragmatic because they used their urine to cure stuff to make it flammable.  (Damn!)  Check!

 

I know that Bettie Page is my Gravatar but that is because she is absolutely fabulous and sexy and everything that I want to be when I grow-up. However truthfully, I have always been a blonde.  I have the natural shade and coloring of the true blondie with the exception of my hazel-green eyes.  Check!

 

Of course the Norse 🙂 were known for their courageous and seafaring spirit and could kick any tribes’ ass when it came to adventuring. They slept out of doors wherever they chose to lay their blond locks and I love the outdoors too!  I love to camp and hike and run and cook outside (we all know how much better the food tastes when cooked on a campfire).  Check!

 

Those blond-haired beauties were also known for their independent and nonconformist lifestyles.  Entrepreneurs to the bone, they marched to the beat of their own drums, never mind what those other tribes were up to, the Vikings lived the Frank Sinatra life and did it their way.  As an INFP, bam sucka—Check!

 

Everyone hates smelly, sweaty, unbathed humans and the Nords were no exception.  Maintaining an unusual degree of personal hygiene, the Vikings were known for their daily bathing and grooming rituals.  I am known for my love of bathing.  In fact, I do not take showers unless I am out of town.  Nothing compares to a long, hot soak in a garden style tub with candles burning and the scent of bubbles—sublime.  Check!

 

I know that my Muse was being facetious when she compared me to a Viking but after hearing my life story at a speaker event, she must have been overcome and appreciative of her own upbringing and experiences.  I have to admit that I rather enjoy thinking of myself as one of those savage Nordic types and I know that I am exploring strange and unknown territory in regard to my family of origin.  I have lived through the sixties with teenage parents, a kidnapping and molestation at knife-point, a rape, and twenty-plus years with a compulsive gambler; I have had my own struggles with booze and sex and come out on the other side; I have raised three beautiful and intelligent daughters, all three college educated and I just completed my degree last year.  Through it all, I have explored, obtained wisdom, learned empathy and compassion, and now I sit here doing what I love: writing.  Yes, I have to admit that I am a fucking Viking!

 

Cohen, J. (20130. http://www.history.com/news/history-lists/10-things-you-may-not-know-about-the-vikings

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Better Than What…?!

via Daily Prompt: Better

Today’s prompt is one of the reasons that the English language is so hard for second language speakers to understand.  It is simply too vague.  Totally subjective, “better” rests soundly on the individual’s perspective of what preceded and is the equivalent of junk food in the English vernacular.  Is that a “better” explanation…?!

There and Back Again—

I took a walk on the wild side by diving into a relationship.  Congratulating myself on my ability to be vulnerable and independent simultaneously, I dove in with both feet.  Subtly, imperceptibly, I began to make a movie in my head about the possibility of a happily-ever-after ending with this man.  My creative fantasies began to take over and I imagined that this man was everything that I had been missing.  Time for a reality check.  For one thing, I am not missing anything and although we laugh and have great sex, these things do not qualify as a foundation.  After living together for some time, it became evident that this man still has a lot of growing-up to do and I have already raised my children.  As delightful as some of his antics were, he was high maintenance and I no longer choose to expend my energy in that way.  I succumbed to temptation and examined this issue in order to uncover why I am still drawn to these types of relationships—superficial, physical, and temporary.  Not having come any closer to the answer, I am taking a break.  The female/male dynamic is difficult at best and I have found that the highs and lows are exhausting!  I have decided to recharge my batteries (heh heh) and crawl into my bed, solo, and let this shit settle.  As Freud once said, “Sometimes an ashtray is just an ashtray.”

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