Twenty Four At Heart

Special Delivery

I hope everyone had a nice weekend?  I went to see Quantum of Solace, the new James Bond movie, this weekend.  I hate to be a spoiler, but guess what?  There were a lot of chase scenes and violence.  I don't think the basic formula for a James Bond movie has ever changed, but for some reason I always enjoy them anyway.  After the movie it was time for a margarita, way too many salty chips, and spicy salsa to top it off.  This is life in Southern California, we drink margaritas year round because the weather is warm, and why not?

The rest of my weekend was spent doing mundane things like buying a turkey for Thanksgiving, attacking mountains of laundry, and watching PR play baseball.  And no, I am not an obnoxious mom screaming my lungs out on the sidelines during his games. I'm the one cringing and apologizing, "Oh my Gawd I'm so sorry PR just took your son's head off with that pitch!  Would you like me to go to the hospital with you?"

I do have a few more tidbits on Joe the Bigamist, but I think I'll wait until after the Thanksgiving weekend to share them.  By then he'll probably have gotten himself into more trouble.

Anyway, I have a separate mailing address for blogging purposes.  Briefcase insisted on it when I began Twenty Four At Heart.  He didn't want stalkers, or perverts, or Joe the Bigamist, to know where I live. He made me get a mailing address at one of those Snail Mail places in a nearby town. I rarely think to go check my mail there because I rarely get anything but emails.

On Saturday I remembered I really ought to check my mail.  I hopped in my car, and took a drive.  Much to my surprise I found I did, indeed, have mail waiting for me. It was sent priority mail, because the sender must have felt I have, um, urgent needs. I wonder how many days my mail had been sitting there?  

This is what was delivered:

Any guesses as to what I found inside?

Mac vs. PC

I learned a lot as a result of yesterday's post.  **Blushing**  I didn't realize I was naive until I clicked on a link or two and found myself wondering, "What do you do with THAT?"  There are rabbits and dolphins and a lot of other devices I never knew existed.  Someone out there in the Internet world with a sex toy business is actually sending me a gift basket of toys.  Thank you very much - you know who you are!  In any case, I'm sure we'll come back to sex related topics sometime soon, but for today I'm onto a slightly less controversial subject.  Although for some of you, this may still be controversial?

Briefcase surprised me, very generously, on my birthday with the new MacBook.  Have you seen it?  It's very cool.  I was thrilled.  My old laptop was having ongoing problems and had been in for work twice in the last six months.  (Remember my experience with Masul?)  Macs aren't susceptible to viruses and/or spyware.  Macs are supposed to be "better" for working with photos and music.  I was very excited by my new laptop and couldn't wait to learn how to use it.

This is what I've noticed so far.  My Macbook is much faster.  The graphics and sound quality are way better on the Mac than on my old laptop (which is a 3 year old HP Pavilion).  Working on a Mac is very different than working on a pc.  I imagine it is much easier to learn to work a Mac if you are starting off and have no, or very little, computer experience.  If you've lived and worked in the pc world for *ahem* a few years, the transition is a little more difficult.

I'm taking the "One on One" classes offered by Apple.  I've only taken one so far.  I plan to take full advantage of this program because I really want to get the most out of my computer.  Hot Apple Employee was very helpful in my first session.  I had figured out a lot of the basics myself, but I had a lot of random, scattered, questions too and he answered them all.

I've also learned I'm not a very patient person.  I want to know how to do everything right now this very minute.  The One on One program includes a rule stating you may not schedule classes more frequently than every seven days.  I want to take classes everyday until I am as proficient as any Apple employee.  I think it has something to do with my perfectionist nature.  (Which by the way, only applies to certain areas of my life and is completely absent in others!)

Apple has a "data transfer" service to move all your information from your old computer to your new one.  I have a problem, however.  I have some things on our home desktop pc.  I have some stuff on my old laptop.  I've had no time to drag all three computers down to our local Apple store to get data transferred.  Also, did I mention you have to leave the computers down there for two days?

RC does homework on our desktop every night.  I don't feel I can take that computer away from him until there's a break from school for a few days.  I also know my own fingers are permanently attached to my keyboard.  Give up all computers for two days?  Nah ... we just can't do it.  Instead I keep jumping from computer to computer depending on what I want to work on.  

Photos and music are primarily on our desktop.  All my saved bookmarks (which includes a zillion blogs) are on my old laptop.  I haven't had a spare moment to attempt moving data on my own.  (Which I just might screw up anyway because ... it would be just like me to do that!)  Eventually I know I'll get everything on to my Mac, but for the time being I'm playing musical computers.

Have any of you made the transition from pc to Mac?  How long did it take for you to feel proficient on your Mac?  What features do you like best?  If you are a pc user, do you want to, or would you ever consider, switching to Mac?  I'm just curious as to your thoughts.  I've noticed our Apple store is always ridiculously packed with people.  Is there a Mac revolution going on?

Corporate Widow

Briefcase has been traveling for most of the last seven weeks.  He always travels a lot as a result of the line of work he's in.  Sometimes he'll fly in at night while I'm sleeping, dump his laundry, repack his suitcase and be gone before I wake up the next morning.  I always really appreciate a fresh pile of dirty laundry, don't you?

Over the years I've established two different routines for my life.  There is my, "Corporate Widow" routine when Briefcase is out of town.  Then there's my "Oh yeah, I almost forgot I really am married and now my husband's here" routine.  The transition between the two has not always been easy, but after all these years I think I've got it down.

Except all of a sudden, I'm just tired lately.  I'm tired of being mother and father to our kids.  I'm tired of making every decision, paying every bill, and being responsible for everything all the time.  I don't know how military spouses do it?  How have I done it for all these years?  I think this last weekend with the 5 a.m. wake-up calls for PR's baseball tournament might have pushed me over the edge into complete exhaustion.

I find myself getting further and further behind.  I feel like a hamster running on a wheel, but never going anywhere.  Why am I wearing myself out and getting very little accomplished? 

The fall is always the most intense travel time of the year for Briefcase.  I think I ask myself these same questions every November.

I think I need a change.  Yes, I've decided it's time for some important changes in my life.  I need newness.  I need excitement.  I need a change to my routine.

I need a sex toy.

Maybe I need to go to a "romance" party?

Briefcase gave me a sex toy as a gift once upon a time.  It was the size of a dinosaur appendage and it scared the crap out of me.  Seriously, I can't imagine what anyone was thinking making a toy that size.  I could give birth to quintuplets all at the same instant and they'd be smaller than Dinosaur Sex Toy.

And why did he buy it?  Why not buy a more ... modest toy?  What, exactly, goes through a man's mind when he purchase a four foot long, eighty pound dildo with the circumference of a large watermelon?

"Here beloved, let's see if we can tear your body in half with this!?"

I think a romance party might be fun.  The problem is, I can't imagine having one at my house with two teen boys living here.  Most of my friends have kids too.  Is there anyone out there who'd like to volunteer to have a sex toy romance party in Orange County?

And if not, where do I buy a sex toy?  And which one?  I'm sure they're available on the Internet.  I'm hesitant though after all the weird Google searches I get here on Twenty Four At Heart.  I'm afraid to Google, "I really could use the perfect sex toy."  Or, "Briefcase has been gone for seven weeks and I'm getting desperate for a toy that does it all!"

Don't be shy.  I need tips (ha!)!!  Seriously, where do I find a romance party?  Do you know of a legitimate sex toy website?  What sex toys are best? 

Faking Orgasms

This post may be too sexually explicit for your tastes.  If you are easily offended, I hope you'll rejoin us on another day.

When Briefcase and I first got married we lived in a small starter home.  We were both career driven and had no thoughts of beginning a family quite yet.  Next door to us lived a very conservative Catholic family.  They had three children and welcomed us to the neighborhood with open arms.  Although we got along quite well with this family, the adults at their house were much more conservative than us.  One night after a few glasses bottles of wine, my neighbor, Julie began talking.

Julie informed me she had been a nun, but had quit to get married.  Her husband had been on the path to becoming a priest when they met.  Then she went on to tell me that in their 18 years of marriage they had never gone a day without having sex a minimum of twice.  Another friend was with us and she was floored. 

"Every single day?" she asked.

Julie confessed that after 18 years of marriage they still had sex every morning upon waking and every night when they went to bed.  I had a hard time reconciling this information with the quiet, conservative, image I had of this couple.  Then Julie confessed that although she never turned down her husband, she didn't enjoy it in the least.  She laughed and said, "I moan and groan and make the appropriate noises.  He thinks I love it, and then it's over."

Hmmmm.

Wouldn't it be better for both of them if she really did love it?

Yesterday I got an email from one of my Canadian readers.  Thistle challenged me to take on the topic of fake orgasms here on Twenty Four at Heart.  Thistle included with her email, an excerpt regarding the origin of the fake orgasm scene in the movie When Harry Met Sally.  If there's a person on earth who hasn't seen this movie, I'd be surprised.  Thistle's email made me start thinking about how best to approach the topic.  Deep in thought, I went to my normal PT appointment.

Would it surprise you to hear I'm shy?  Well, I'm shy in large groups, and I'm shy with people I don't know well.  Once I reach my comfort zone, however, there's no stopping me.  I'm very comfortable at PT.  I have spent more time there than anywhere but my own home over the last few years.  I sat out in the large common area with a heating pad on my arm for twenty minutes when I arrived yesterday.  The room was packed with patients, therapists, and techs. 

"Let's talk fake orgasms," I suggested.

People at PT know me so well that no one even blinked or looked surprised.  One therapist laughed, but that was it.  A group discussion of fake orgasms began. 

First of all, every single woman present (and there were quite a few) confessed to having "faked it" on occasion.  Every.Single.Woman.  (Except for me.  I didn't talk about myself or my sex life at all, I just listened.  I'm so clever like that!)  The women didn't hesitate in the least when discussing faking it.  A few women were even pretty specific on the heavy breathing, moaning, nails scraping his back, or whatever else they do, to convince their sex partner they had an orgasm.

I thought I'd gather all sorts of interesting information to write about.  What ended up being the big surprise for me, however, was the men started talking about faking orgasms. 

I was dubious at first.

"Men don't fake it," I insisted.

"Do you know that for sure?" they countered.

Then the men's stories came out about faking orgasms.  Here are a few of the comments I heard from men:

"Sometimes I realize it's just not going to happen so I fake it."

"There are times when it's just too much work and I'm tired."

"I've never had a woman fake it with me, but I've faked it." 

In turn, I asked, "How can a woman possibly not know if a man fakes it?  An orgasm in a man leaves behind physical evidence.  How is it possible to not realize the proof is missing?"  (Especially if you, ahem ... swallow?) 

(Also, I have never called it "proof" before, but I'm trying to not offend every single reader I have today.  Cum Come to think of it, I probably already have with my swallow comment.) 

The entire conversation left me wondering what's wrong with just saying, "That was nice, but I didn't have an earth shattering orgasm this time."  Does that have to mean sex was a failure? 

I flashed back to my college days.  I remember a male friend dating a girl who was a screamer.  No, I'm serious, a screamer.  You could hear her half a block away and I'm not exaggerating.  She would scream and scream at the top of her lungs during their marathon lovemaking sessions.  She would scream and then her boyfriend would brag about giving her multiple orgasms. 

The thing is, everyone could hear her.  Out of all the people who were within a half block radius, none of us thought it was real.  We all thought she was faking the whole thing.  I've often wondered if he went on to be with quiet-comers (new word!) in the future.  And if so, did he feel like a failure if they weren't breaking the sound barrier with their screams?

What do you think?  Have you faked it?  Do you know if/when your partner fakes it with you?  Do you think sex is a failure if it doesn't always lead to an orgasm?  And what do you think about men faking it?

I'm Too Sexy For My Blog

Many of you remember we got in some heated discussions about the gender gap, sex, male/female relationships, etc. not too long ago.  If you need a refresher you can go back and read those posts here, here, here and here.  People got pretty riled up by some of those gender/sex related posts.

Last Friday, Neil from Citizen of the Month published a post referencing those discussions here on Twenty Four At Heart.  If you'd like to click on the link and read Neil's post I'll wait patiently for you to come back.  Dum, dee, dum, dum ....

OK, everybody back?  I was really excited Neil referenced Twenty Four At Heart.  I'm pretty new to the blogosphere, but Neil is a bigwig.  He's, like, all famous and stuff.  I'm a little bit starstruck by Neil and all his fame.  Plus, he seems like a genuinely nice guy.  It's a big deal in my teeny, tiny, corner of the Internet to be mentioned by someone big and important.  (No comments about how big Neil may or may not be, please.)

In any case, I read Neil's post early Friday morning and I've been thinking about it, and many of the comments his readers left, ever since.  Neil left a comment for me back in August which made him sound above most men with their common, animal, lust. 

Many of my female readers immediately fell head over heels for Neil based off of his comment alone.  However, last Friday Neil confessed that he rarely has a conversation with a woman without imagining her without her clothes on at least once while they're talking.  His readers then left comments about whether or not they mentally undress people all day long too.

Black Hockey Jesus left a comment on Neil's post last Friday.  When I asked him last weekend, BHJ said he wouldn't mind me sharing it with you.  BHJ has a talent for speaking his mind. 

BHJ said:
"Fucking is just a metaphor for connecting with a woman. What do they want us to think about? Holding hands and sharing feelings? I would rather fuck them."

Well then. 
Any of you want a date with BHJ? 

BHJ needs to be commended for his honesty.  How many men feel the same way, but won't verbalize those thoughts due to their fear of female retaliation?  Or in other words, the fear of not getting laid?

Ever since I read Neil's post I've been disrobing every single man I see.  Mentally.  Not in real life because that would be, hmmm, inappropriate.  I don't think I normally do this.  There are men I've known for a very long time and I've never thought of them sexually at all.  Neil's post, however, did something disturbing to my brain.  I keep hoping my cognitive stripping of every man I see will stop any minute, but so far it hasn't. 

You might think this is a wonderful, titillating, phenomenon but it's not.  There's this old guy named Rubin at PT.  He is really, really, old.  In fact, if I'm being honest, Rubin looks like he's already dead.  I don't want to see Rubin naked in my head.  No, I certainly don't.  I looked over the other day and there Rubin was.  I tried to look away as fast as possible, but it was no use.  A quick image of naked Rubin flashed in my brain.  It was not a good experience.  It's haunting me still.

Last weekend a girlfriend of mine called.  She was chatting and mentioned a man we both know.  He's a male friend of mine who I can honestly say I've never had a sexual thought about.  Then she asked, "Have you ever noticed he's really hung?"   No, no, no!  I have never noticed.  And now?  What do you think I'm going to be looking at next time I see him?  Why did she put that thought into my head?  And will I ever, for the rest of my life, be able to think of this man without her words repeating themselves in my head?  Now, not only am I mentally undressing every man I see, I have her words echoing in my brain as well.

On the positive side, do you remember I mentioned Male Specimen last week?  Yeah, well it isn't quite as disturbing to have images of him flashing in my head as it is of Rubin.  I'm blaming Neil for somehow causing all this.  I'm sure it will eventually fade away and I'll return to my own personal version of "normal". 

In the meantime, I'd like a little honesty from all of you.  Do you visualize people in your life naked as you talk with them throughout the day?  All people?  Or just the attractive ones?  How often?  Are you flashing mental images of nude people often or just once in awhile?  Also, after reading this post will you be seeing visions of everyone disrobed all day today?

Dr. McDreamy

I spent some time with my dermatologist yesterday.  My family has a history of skin cancer, and not the milder forms.  No, we drop dead of melanoma on a regular basis in my family.  The doctors call the melanoma in our family a "cancer cluster."  Melanoma is one of the deadliest forms of cancer and it can be brought on both from a genetic history and/or by sun exposure.  I'm doomed in either case.  In truth, I've had one melanoma already, but it was removed before it killed me.  Now I have frequent skin checks by both an oncologist and a dermatologist, or at least I'm supposed to.

Needless to say, with all I've gone through since the car accident I've neglected everything else.  Last Friday I noticed a dark spot on my skin and I freaked out as only I can do.  Heart racing, I called my dermatologist in a panic.  Knowing my history, he waived his usual two month wait and got me in to see him yesterday.  His secretary let me know ahead of time they were "working me in" and it would be a quick check of just the one suspicious spot.  Then she chided me on being late for a full skin check and I promised I would set up an appointment for one when I came in.

Here's my public service announcement.  Everybody should get a skin check with a good dermatologist at least once a year.  If there is any form of skin cancer in your family you should go more frequently.  Even if you live in a cooler climate, it's a must.  Kids should be checked once a year too.  If you never listen to me regarding anything else, I hope you'll get skin checks for yourself and your family.

My doc is young, very good looking, and also very energetic and outgoing.  He grew up in Argentina although his parents were Americans.  He has the most charming, sexy, accent as a result.  I adore him.  My oncologist recommended him because he says he's got "great eyes."  He means Dr. McDreamy is great at spotting skin abnormalities earlier than most docs. 

I agree Dr. McDreamy has great eyes, but for entirely different reasons. I've also noticed he has a great body, great hands, a great smile, etc.  I've noticed all of that purely in a professional sense, of course.  Dr. McDreamy is married, by the way. 

Briefcase hates Dr. McDreamy and has nicknamed him "The Butcher."  I think Briefcase probably resents Dr. McDreamy just because he's so gorgeous.  However, to make things worse he did remove a mole from Briefcase's leg once.  It got infected and Briefcase did nothing about it, in typical male fashion.  It festered for weeks.  One day Briefcase commented to me about what a terrible job The Butcher had done.  I checked out the gangrene on his leg in absolute horror.  To this day, Briefcase blames Dr. McDreamy for the fact that Briefcase himself did not follow his after-care instructions.

Anyway, Dr. McDreamy and I chatted a little and got all caught up.  He looked at the spot I freaked out about and announced it was a hbzkdnemakdn or something like that, but not a melanoma.  He didn't even need to biopsy it.  I mentioned I would be returning soon for a full skin check and he said, "Get undressed, let's do it now."

These are the thoughts which immediately, and in less than two seconds, ran through my head:

1.  What panties am I wearing today?

2.  I'm due for a bikini wax.

3.  I shave my legs everyday without fail, but I was running late today and didn't shave them.

4.  I haven't done sit-ups in three weeks and he'll see my fat.

5.  I didn't put any lotion on this morning (again because I was running late) and my legs will look like lizard legs.

6.  What bra am I wearing?

7.  Will he laugh when he sees my fat ass in a thong?

Dr. McDreamy looked at me patiently, handed me a hospital gown, and left the room for me to change.  He instructed me to leave my bra and panties on.  I've had skin checks before, but I always knew I would be having them.  I have exactly one pair of granny panties just for the purpose of doctor's visits.  I felt cornered, trapped, and about to be exposed.  Literally.

Dr. McDreamy, full of good looks and overflowing with charm, walked back in with his magnifying glass.  Oh yes, he went over every millimeter of my body with a giant, over-sized, magnifying glass.  Here Dr. McDreamy, take a good look at my unshaven legs!  Get up close and personal.  Let's see exactly what the hair re-growth is on that last bikini wax while we're at it.  Did you notice the lace on my thong?  And really, I'm quite sure that isn't belly fat, it's just a little bloating.  Check out that fantastic pattern of cellulite on my ass too!  As he examined every millimeter of me, I wanted to die of embarrassment.

Did I mention that although I had panties and a bra on, he lifted them away when he got to those parts of me?  He's a very thorough doctor.  As he should be, especially with my family history.  However, it left me feeling more exposed, albeit in a different way, than a gyn exam.  The man had a magnifying glass!  (And yes, there was a female nurse present at all times.)

Dr. McDreamy also checked all my lymph glands because I am a "melanoma survivor" and it will be a part of my exam for life.  Did you know you have lymph glands all over including  in your groin area?  As in, right along your pantie line?  Yes, Dr. McDreamy had his warm, sexy hands there.  Just letting you know, in case you were wondering.

Normally, I just love some nice warm man hands on my body, but in this case?  Not so much. 

Ironically, the whole time he was examining me, Dr. McDreamy just chatted away as if I wasn't standing there in all my naked glory in front of him.  Nothing in his manner was even slightly different than when I was fully clothed.  I think I should be insulted by that, but I was too busy feeling grateful instead. 

Dr. McDreamy did get excited at one point.  He was looking at my back with his magnifying glass.  "I see a little pimple!" he exclaimed with joy. 

Could I be any further humiliated?

"A pimple on my back?" I asked.

"It's really small, I probably couldn't see it without my magnifying glass," he answered.

Then he added, "Can I pop it?  Because that's why I became a dermatologist, I love to pop pimples."

"Sure," I said, because at that point I couldn't possibly have wanted to disappear anymore than I already did.  And really, I might as well make Dr. McDreamy's day by letting him pop a microscopic zit on my back.

He was thrilled.  And because of that, his sexiness factor dropped quite a bit.  Can you imagine being in bed with a man who all of a sudden got excited if he spotted a pimple on your ass?  More excited than when he saw you naked?  I don't think I'll ever look at him quite the same way again.

When it was all said and done, I got the "all clear."  It's always a relief given my personal and family history.  Dr. McDreamy did write me a prescription for lotion, however.  He noticed my heels "are a little rough".  Visions of many long walks on sandy beaches flashed through my head.  I thanked him for the prescription, tried to muster whatever remaining  dignity I had left, and went on my way.

Is it just me?  Or have you had an embarrassing experience with a doctor too?

Another Sex Post?

Remember last week when we were discussing male/female communication, sex, and all that kind of stuff?  One day I even asked my readers what made them feel romantic.  I got tons of input which was followed by a post on foreplay.  Remember?

Since then several of you have sent me some great emails.  Helena sent me a very funny cartoon, but when I tried to format it to share with all of you, the text didn't show up well enough to post.  Some of you sent me stories about your lives and relationships.  I loved reading all of it.  One reader recommended a very (!) hot romance novel for me to read.  I don't normally read romance novels, and it was ... ahem, very graphic.  <Blush>  

By the way, I did finish that book.  <Blush again>

Briefcase was out of town at the time.  After I read it, I had a lot of pent up frustration energy so I spent a lot of time ordering sex toys on the Internet working out on our elliptical.  Who knew a trashy, romance novel could be so good for my health?

Really, all men should probably buy trashy romance novels for their wives periodically.  The one recommended to me was more, um, detailed than most.  It was also, admittedly, mindless.  I don't think the purpose of a romance novel is to challenge the intellect.  It is probably a good thing I didn't finish reading it the day our hot pool boy was coming by.  Shhh!  Don't tell Briefcase I said that!

Note to male readers:  Buy your significant female a trashy, graphic, romance novel once in awhile.  Be home when she's reading it, and especially when she's done reading it.  She can improve her mind with Hemingway on a different day.  She'll jump you when she's done if it's a decent author.  I promise.  Or is that just me?  <Blush, Blush, Blush!!> 

It wouldn't hurt you to read her porn trash book also.  I know, you think it would be boring.  It's so beneath you, isn't it?  Except it might give you incredible insight into what turns women on.  Consider it.  No one ever needs to know you read her book.  If nothing else, you'll learn how to rip a bodice romantically.  Ha!

What happened to this post?  It was not supposed to be about any of this.  I am embarrassing myself all over the place today.  How unusual.

Internet?  For quite some time many of you have been asking for more hot guy photos.  One of my readers, Joanne, sent along some photos.  (Thank you Joanne!)  I don't think she'll mind in the least if I share.  And, I do believe I've said enough for one day.  Enjoy the pics!  Due to all the email responses I'm getting on these pics, let me add the following.  They are twin brothers.  I don't know if they are gay or straight.  And really, who cares?! 

 

 

The F Word

Am I the new, self-appointed, sexologist of the blogging world?  It sure seemed like I was last week.  We had some great discussions about male/female communication, the gender gap, and even got as far as discussing some male courting (?) behaviors women don't care for.  Our final discussion ended with me asking my readers what they do like.  What makes you feel romantic?  What constitutes great foreplay?

I thought today I'd write about my personal idea of perfect foreplay.  Just kidding!  However, Briefcase?  If you're reading, I have this very sensitive spot you've been neglecting for the last, um, twenty one years or so.  I've tried dropping hints, leaving notes, sending emails, drawing maps, and nothing seems to work.  I thought maybe if I told the entire friggin' world about it on my blog, you might notice.  Ahem.  Anyway .... 

So where were we?  Oh yes, we left off discussing what behaviors are definitely NOT great foreplay, at least, not from the women's perspective.  One of my wonderful readers, Amy, from I Could Cry but I Don't Have Time, was kind enough to make a sign for me to illustrate this discussion to my readers.  Many thanks to Amy!

Foreplay means different things to different people.  As wonderful as it might be if I could publish a list titled The Five Steps to Fabulous Foreplay, solve all male/female issues with my list, and proceed to be rich and famous ... it isn't going to happen.  (Dammit!)  However, I will say, based on all the feedback I got, there was one item that popped up on a recurring basis.  (Stop it right now!  You have your mind in the gutter and don't even try to pretend you don't!)

The one thing that my female readers said over and over again, is they crave nonsexual touching and affection.  They long for their significant other to grab them a blanket when they're cold, tuck it around them with a hug and squeeze ... and then not stand there waiting to get laid in return for the gesture.  Affection for affection's sake.  Touching of nonsexual body parts without an expectation of sex.  Holding hands, a little hug, a squeeze, or pat ... nonsexual affection.   

Another recurring theme was that women (generalization forthcoming) in most cases want and need an emotional attachment in order to crave physical intimacy.  If you're male and she's not interested, maybe you've neglected her emotional needs or the emotional side of your relationship. Do you ever have fun together?  Laugh and laugh till you cry together?  Do you really listen to, instead of just hear, each other?  Women said, repeatedly, they need to feel emotionally connected.

I didn't get many male comments, but the ones I did get stated clearly that men want foreplay too.  Back rubs, massages, (and lots and lots of blow jobs).  Men don't like the expectation they can "whip it out" on command.  Maybe I've been married too long because I can't remember ever commanding Briefcase to "whip it out".  (And now I'll be humming the song Whip It by Devo all day.)  Maybe Briefcase is wishing I'd command him to whip it out?  Possibly, we have a communication break down. 

Again, women vary, but here are some suggestions left by female readers. 

Flirt - throughout the day

Be playful

Cuddle

Make us feel desirable, respected,  and beautiful

Indulge in good conversation

Be helpful around the house without being asked

Remember we have more than 3 erogenous zones

Romance is always nice (candles, flowers, etc.)

Our nipples are not "radio dials" (spend some time with the rest of our breast and entire body too)

None of that sounds so difficult, does it?  It must be, however.  Otherwise I wouldn't have received so many responses to my posts.  Heartfelt, frustrated, angry, and sad emails about the lack of understanding and support between the sexes.  It hasn't been difficult to identify some of the issues which cause problems.  The solutions, however, might be more difficult.

One of my favorite bloggers, Undomestic Diva, suggested that younger men probably tend to have more frequent affairs than younger women.  (Sex for the sake of sex.)  She also felt as we age, older women probably have affairs more than men do.  Women feeling entitled to search for the connection they've lost with their significant other.  This goes a little bit against the grain of conventional thinking where the mid-life man abandons his wife for a 20 year old hard-body girl.  What do you think?  What have you witnessed with your friends and acquaintances?  Or perhaps yourself?  Are mid-life women or men more likely to have affairs?

Lascivious vs. Affectionate

How nice would it be if we could solve all the male/female communication problems right here on Twenty Four At Heart?  Or maybe just minimize the gender gap somewhat?  Earlier this week I opened a can of worms when I discussed (here and here) an article I read which stated men read sex into the majority of female communication. 

The posts brought forth a lot of emotion and a lot of varying opinions.  Some of it was funny, some of it was angry, and some of it was heartfelt.  Every comment and every email I received made it very clear to me that the sexes are miles apart in many ways.  I hate to speak in generalities, but in a blog forum, I have to.  Individually you and I could sit down and discuss particulars, but I am not able to do that here.  That's disclaimer number one.

Disclaimer number two is that I have always had a fair number of male friends.  I attribute it to growing up in a neighborhood with a lot of boys and very few girls.  I relate well to men.  That being said, I have many platonic male friends even now.  If I'm misguided in regard to those friendships (and I don't believe I am), I'd rather stay oblivious and continue viewing them in the light I currently do.

Disclaimer number three:  To my male readers ... I am quite sure that you are all wonderful partners to your significant others.  None of the generalities about men in these gender gap posts are pointed at you specifically, so please don't get defensive.  I am quite sure you court your loved one with sweet words and tender touches and that none of this applies to you whatsoever.

OK, have I covered my ass now? 

To the female reader who asked me why men like blow jobs?  I am not a man, so I can't speak for men.  If I had to hypothesize, I would say because it feels good.  Just a wild guess.

Regarding the question about butt cracks possibly interfering with the style/look of your dress when you go commando, I refer you back to my response in the comment section of yesterday's post.

To all men everywhere?  There was a recurring theme in the feedback I got from women.  We hate to be groped.  Hate it.  I'm sure you never do this, so please tell all your male friends who may not be as enlightened as you are.  When we are standing in the kitchen slaving over lovingly preparing a meal for you, don't walk by and squeeze our ass so hard we jump in the air.  Also, we aren't cows and don't get turned on in the least when you can't resist reaching out and squeezing our tits hard enough to milk us. 

Not that Briefcase has ever done anything of the sort.  Ahem ....

Men?  What is it with the groping?  Is it a turn on for you?  Or do you mistakenly think you are turning us on?  (You're not, I guarantee it!)  It reminds us of 6th grade when 12 year old boys would sit in a corner pointing and exclaiming, "Look, boobies!" and then try to cop a feel as we walked by.  The groping needs to cease and desist.  It's in your best interest, I promise.

Willy wagging.  Just.Stop.It.  Shaking it at us?  It's not a turn on.  You may find it highly amusing to touch your junk, shake it around and chase us around the house.  It does not increase our libido, okay?  Not in the least.

The crude comment.  If I say I'm thirsty, and you reply with a smirk, "Oh I can give you something to drink."  Do you think I will reply, "Great idea, thanks!?"  Is that what men perceive as foreplay?  Do you think I instantly appreciate the suggestion to quench my thirst and get all excited thinking about it?  Because, if so?  You're mistaken.  I received lots and lots of comments from women regarding their frustration with the crude comment.  By the way, a little dirty talk at the right time is not the same thing.  Two different entities.

Groping, willy wagging, and the crude comment are all aspects of male behavior that women would like to see disappear.  If you are a man and you want to leave a comment and tell me how your wife/girlfriend gets turned on when you say something crude to her out in public, wag your willy at her at the dinner table, and then honk her tit as she walks by, then fine.  There are exceptions to every rule.  But my guess is that you just think she gets turned on by it.

Women stated repeatedly they don't get nonsexual affection from their significant other.  "Why can't he give me a hug without turning it into a grope?" was a recurring theme.  Holding hands, hugging, touching without sex, was high on my female reader's wish list.  Nonsexual physical contact seems to be something women crave, but don't get.

Now that we've talked about a few things women don't like, I'd like to hear from my readers what they do like.  What does foreplay mean to you?  I'd like to hear from both men and women.  What gets you in the mood?  What would you like to see your significant other do?  What makes you feel romantic?

A Rolls Royce and a Restaurant

I am going to be coming back to the topic of the male/female communication gap on Thursday.  It has ignited all sorts of interest and debate.  While I digest some of the comments and emails I've received, I thought I'd share a little bit about Briefcase's birthday with you today.  I think we should have one nice, calm, post without any much controversy to give everyone a chance to catch their breath. 

Last weekend was Briefcase's birthday.  Poor guy, he's getting old.  (I'm not, he is.  That's how it works!)  I woke up early and made a really nice breakfast for him.  Damn, I'm the greatest wife ever.  Maybe I would have been a better wife if I woke him up for sex?  (There's that sex topic again ... it's hard to avoid, no pun intended!)

Shortly after breakfast we took off for one of PR's baseball games.  I love baseball, but Briefcase?  The man is addicted to it.  Particularly baseball when one of his son's is playing.  It was only fitting that he got to watch PR play on his birthday.  I don't think any other activity could make him happier. 

Well, maybe some activities, but that came later.  You people are so one track in your thinking!  Moving on ....

It was a hot, beautiful, day.  PR was playing on the Varsity field of his future high school.  That's a rush for a 13 year old kid ... getting to play on a Varsity high school field.  He was playing against a team with a bunch of older kids who will be in high school this year.  This has become the norm lately.  PR at 5'5" pitching to kids who are older and 6'2".  I guess it's good preparation for high school which is a full year away.  If he gets drilled by a line drive coming right back at him, I will regret those words for all eternity. 

PR did great.  The game went on forever though.  Bleacher butt took over as my ass became one with my seat.  How can one game last almost four hours?  Ugh!  Despite my umbrella and sunscreen I could feel my skin burning in the sizzling Orange County sun.

At long last, the game ended and we went home for quick showers and a change of clothes.  I had made reservations at a very nice restaurant in Newport Beach to celebrate Briefcase's birthday.  We've been to this restaurant before, but only for special occasions.  Last time we were there, Briefcase and the manager hit it off and we got some great free stuff, but that was quite awhile ago.

Briefcase dressed all fancy and smelled good.  I wore a dress.  I don't wear dresses very often.  The only thing under my dress was a bra.  Yes, you heard me correctly.  This seems to be my week to shock your sensibilities.  Or maybe not. 

It was his birthday, okay?  I didn't go all trashy (Britney Spears public flashing) or anything ... but it definitely adds something to the evening to go out on a fancy date pantie-less once in awhile.  That's right, commando.  Ladies?  Stop judging and try it sometime.  Your significant other will greatly appreciate it.  Men love the "dressed up like a lady, but I know she's not" thing.  It's called "anticipation" and everyone should give it a try.  It makes for a great evening for both of you.  

We pulled up to the restaurant and right there, parked in valet, was a beautiful Rolls Royce.  I don't know anything about cars, but this was an old, special edition, Rolls in mint condition.  All sparkly, and glimmering, and there may as well have been $1,000 bills painted all over it.  This is the environment we live in.  Rolls Royce's, Jaguar's, Mercedes's, Beemer's, Porche's, Lexus's (Lexi?  How badly did I just massacre also those plurals?).  Fancy cars are the norm around here.  I don't think it's healthy.  It isn't the real world.  It's this strange, neurotic bubble where I live, but it isn't normal and I know that.

We checked in and the hostess informed us that the manager had instructed her to save a table for us in the Wine Cellar.  I didn't know this restaurant had a Wine Cellar, although I certainly knew they have a great wine list.  We were escorted to a small intimate room where eventually a total of six tables were filled.  It was really nice.  Cozy.  Quieter than the main dining room.  Great tunes (on the softer, more romantic, side) added to the atmosphere. 

Apparently the manager had made a note after our prior visit.  We were given VIP status all evening.

I looked around at the people filling the other five tables.  I can't help it.  I'm a people watcher.  They all reeked of money.  The clothes, the jewelry, the attitude.  I realized that Briefcase and I were the only two adults in the room who have not had plastic surgery.  I guess we look old and tired in comparison.  I think if I ever have plastic surgery I'll chronicle it right here on Twenty Four at Heart.  You can send in comments as I go through the process and then tell me I look just like every other Orange County woman when I'm done. 

Even the men had nose jobs, raised foreheads, or face lifts.  Someone should make a cartoon about Orange County.  All the animated characters could be ageless, but look slightly odd due to their unnaturalness.  It would actually be quite funny.  If I have any animators out there reading, give me a call.  We can collaborate ....

Dinner was all the things you could hope for on a special occasion.  The food was perfect, and the manager delivered a $200 bottle of 2004 Cabernet to our table gratis.  (Duckhorn if you are interested, and it was excellent!)  We had already ordered cocktails when the wine arrived so we were a little looped the whole evening.  In a pleasant way, not in a too-blurry-to-remember-the-evening way. 

Briefcase polished off every bite of everything set in front of him.  I don't know how men can do that?  The food was superb, but nevertheless, it couldn't possibly have all fit in my stomach.  I was so full at the end of the meal I could barely move, so we stayed right there and relaxed for awhile.  Sipping the remainder of the wine and enjoying the evening.  Right about then they delivered free dessert in honor of Briefcase's birthday.  Chocolate covered strawberries and a chocolate, molten, lava cake. 

I stole a bite of the lava cake even though I was full.  I have a terrible weakness for chocolate.  I wanted to lie down and roll around in all that warm, gooey, lava.  Chocolate, molten, lava cake is an intrinsically sensual dessert.

Briefcase inhaled the lava cake in seconds flat.  Maybe it wasn't quite as sensual for him?  We brought the strawberries home for the kids.  

Speaking of kids, when we arrived home RC was out with friends, but PR was awake.  School doesn't start for a couple more weeks so the boys are still on summer hours.  They stay up very late and sleep the mornings away. 

We shared a few pleasantries with PR and then Briefcase ordered him off to bed.  PR started to protest, but then thought better of it.  Briefcase doesn't give orders very often.  Once PR was out of the way, we had time for a creative conclusion to our evening.  Briefcase had a very (!) nice birthday.         

A Gender Gap

Yesterday's post regarding male/female communication set off some strong emotions among my readers.  There were male readers who were downright offended at the idea they would sexualize most communication from females.  At the same time they acknowledged they "think about sex a lot."  One real-life male friend told me the article's statistic stating men are thinking of sex 80-90% of the time during a conversation with a female is "probably on the high side."  He didn't, however, sound as if he thought the statistic was on the high side by much.

I also got an email from a male friend asking if I was referring to him in that post.  Did he not read my disclaimer at the beginning of the post?  No, I was not referring to anyone in my life with that post.  The idea came strictly from the article I read.  Thank you very much ....

Surprisingly, most of the female readers who left comments or sent emails felt that men do, in fact, see life through sex-tinted glasses.  I realize most of you don't take the time to read through comments so I've posted the highlights for you here today. 

I was up late last night retrieving my daughter at LAX airport from her summer abroad.  Due to lack of time. I haven't linked every author to their comment, but you can click on yesterday's comments if you would like to see who wrote what.  I hope all my commenters will forgive me this lack of blog etiquette for this one occasion.  TR is finally home after her nine week trip and we were up to all hours celebrating her return.

From a female reader:
My husband is a case in point. I can't even make a casual comment like, "I'm hungry" without him grabbing his groin and going, "I've got something for you to snack on, baby." He's 54 years old, for God's sake ....

From a female reader:
I am so sick of every single comment being a sexual innuendo and every touch turned into a sexual grope.

From a female reader:
I think men get married because they want a regular sexual partner. Women get married so they have a companion. Those goals are at odds, and no wonder 50% of marriages end in divorce. I mean think about it -- women don't want to have sex with their husbands unless their husbands spend time with them; husbands don't want to spend time with their wives unless their wives have sex with them. Not compatible goals, I'm thinking.

From a male reader:
The article you were reading sounds silly...and completely idiotic. They obviously interviewed a high school football team for their content!

From a male reader:
I think that magazine was written by 13 year old boys. Men don't think like that. Sure, we flirt and can do a double entendre on occasion. But I stopped looking for sex in every remark sometime after I graduate jr. high.  We do think about sex a lot.

From a female reader:
When I tell my husband I'm tired, he tells me I need a little protein, and you know what he means.   ewwwww. Just what I need, a little ***hair on my teeth before I go teach kindergarten. yuck.

From a female reader:
Oh YES! They are never NOT thinking about sex. Especially blow jobs!

From a male reader:
That article takes it too far. Yeah, if you say you're wet, I'm gonna pay attention. But if you ask how I am, I assume you want to know how I am. Give us guys a little credit.

From a female reader:
I thought when I was saying "how are you" to a guy friend, what I really meant was "god damn, do I want to blow you."  I guess, maybe, I just really wanted to know how he was.

From a female reader:
Perhaps I live in a bubble where men and women can be friends and can associate freely without sex being involved... but it is my bubble and I like it!

My favorite comment left by a male reader (Neil from Citizen of the Month):

This is my first time at this blog, but being a male, I have the feeling that you were writing about me when you wrote it, and I think you totally want to have sex with me. Am I right?

And my favorite comment left by a female reader (Margaret from Nanny Goats in Panties):

I would think it would depend on how much of a sextard the guy is.  (Neil???)

Sex and Hello Are Not The Same Thing

Family members?  Go away.  You can come back in a few days.  I'm talking about stuff you don't want to hear this week. 

To all my readers, if sexually explicit references offend you, please come back on Tuesday.  To my male real-life friends, this post was not written about you.  

I recently read an article discussing the communication gap between men and women.  I found the article amusing.  Unfortunately I was leafing through several magazines at the time and I don't recall which one the article was in so I can't quote my source.  I hate it when I do that.  The article made me laugh, but it also left me concerned.  Many of my favorite friends are men.  If the article is accurate, my friendships with men might be in trouble.

According to the article, men read sex into just about every form of communication a women transmits.  Here are some examples. 

I say "hello" and he thinks, "She wants me."

I ask, "How have you been?"

He thinks, "She can't leave me alone ... she wants to give me a blow job!"

In reality?  All I'm thinking about is running to the store for tampons after we finish our pleasantries.  Maybe I'm thinking about the dirty kitchen at home.  Your personal pleasure stick?  It's not really on my mind.  I hate to break it to my male readers, but that's how women think.  We are mentally running through our to-do lists during our every waking moment.  Sometimes even during sex if you aren't performing well enough don't distract us enough.  (Distract us, distract us!!)

I wish I had the article in front of me as I write this, but the statistics quoted were staggering.  During a brief male/female conversation they say men are thinking about sex or sexual references 80 - 90% of the time.  For women, I think it ranged around 10% of the time.

When I'm at physical therapy and I say, "I'm really wet!" I am referring to the bag of ice that melted on me.  The man sitting across from me, however, is instantly alert and extremely attentive.  In fact, he's falling all over himself to start up a conversation.  We are not on the same page.

When that same man says to his PT, "Hey, stop rubbing my thigh you just gave me a hard-on," I definitely glance over.  (What?  You wouldn't??)

The difference being, he is clearly making a reference to something sexual and I absolutely am not.

If I send an email to a male friend saying, "I was thinking about you today, how are you?" it does not mean I want to do you desperately this very minute.  Also, I'm not sitting at my laptop thinking about giving you head.  (Sorry, I'm sure it would be a titillating experience and all, but ...!)  No, it just means something reminded me of you and I thought I'd check in to hear how you are.  That's all ... honestly.  And by the way, I hope you're doing great.

According to the article, a female complimenting a man is interpreted by the man as hot, steamy, moaning, desire.  (Okay, so I got carried away and threw the word "moaning" in.  Don't ask.) 

I'm now afraid to even say, "I like your shirt" to a male friend.  I don't want him to think I'm gearing up to strip off his clothes, rub myself all over him, and start sucking on his ... earlobes.  Really I'm just thinking his shirt might look nice on my son, RC.  Or maybe I'm thinking it's the same shade of blue I'd like to paint in my upstairs bathroom.

I tend to be a complimenter, but not an insincere one.  I'm very genuine about giving compliments.  I know most of us don't get patted on the back nearly as often as we deserve.  I make a point of praising people on their positive traits.  In the case of my male friends, are they interpreting those compliments as lust on my part?  This particular article  says yes, they are. 

If a male friend tells me he fixed a broken pipe and I say, "It's great you're so handy," does he think I'm saying, "I want those handy hands on me ... now!?"  Or maybe, "I want and need your pipe!?"

If he spends a day working on his car, I might tell him that's an admirable trait.  Does he instantly think I want him to lube my engine?

What if I say, "I really enjoy our conversations, you stimulate my mind?"  Is he thinking, "She said I stimulate her.  I'm a stud.  All I have to do is talk and she's all hot and bothered."  Is he thinking sex toys while I'm thinking Obama's economic recovery plan?

What happens when words like come, head, member or "throbbing member" innocently occur in conversation?  (Oops ... maybe not throbbing member, what's wrong with me today?)  The article said men will focus on those words in particular, females may not even hear them. 

I'll be honest.  I don't want to believe the magazine.  If the article is true, I don't know how comfortable I can feel with my male friends.  I treat my male friends like I would a best girlfriend.  How do I know if the article is true though?  I only have my own very female perspective.  I think I have strong, nonsexual, male/female friendships.  Am I kidding myself?  Do men read sex and lust into every communication with females?