Celebrating Beyonce Aesthetically

Beyonce Knowles is an extremely beautiful woman. Even if you are not sexually excited or stimulated by her curvaceous and near-perfect body, surely you can see the aesthetic attraction of it. If I had the body of this woman, I would certainly want the world to know how proud I was of its form and would happily wear some of the outfits that she seems likely to be criticised for wearing.

An article in the Guardian newspaper last week explores the issue of Beyonce’s sartorial choices and says that, "You have to wonder what one of Beyoncé's biggest fans, Michelle Obama, would tell her daughters about this outfit."

http://www.guardian.co.uk/music/2013/apr/19/beyonce-risque-world-tour-outfits

Well, here’s my helping hand should the conversation arise between Michelle, Malia and Sasha.

Girls: Mummy! Beyonce is showing her nipples!

Michelle: Well, actually girls, she isn’t showing her nipples at all. There’s no nudity and there’s no raunchy cleavage. What we can see is a demonstration of the female form, which many deem to be extremely attractive.

Girls: But isn’t it rude?

Michelle: Well, unfortunately society has seen fit to make us believe that women’s breasts are rude when in actual fact, they should be celebrated, enjoyed and not perpetually hidden away in secrecy pretending they don’t exist. What Beyonce is doing here is showing that she’s all woman, and that’s something that we should definitely celebrate. This outfit is only “rude” because we aren’t accustomed to women being so forthright about the beauty of their own bodies. I applaud Beyonce for furthering the cause and empowering young women to feel positive about their bodies, especially when they are naturally curvaceous rather than slim beyond healthiness.

And so the conversation might continue with references to sexuality that Michelle, as a sensible woman, would respond to in accordance with the two girls’ maturity - guided by their questions just as all sensible responses to questions on sex should be.

The image of Beyonce here is sexual but it’s only sexual because our society has made it so. Why shouldn’t beautiful women be free to display their beauty, within reason, without the rest of the world thinking they are making an explicit statement about their sexuality? And even if she was making an explicit statement about her sexuality, then what precisely is wrong with that?

We all know that Beyonce has had sex. She has a daughter to “prove” that is the case. We can see, whether she is fully-clad or not, that she has a certain sexual presence and is aware of her sexuality but that doesn’t make her immoral or prone to promiscuity. She is as she is!

If I’m perfectly honest, I like looking at this photograph of Beyonce. I love the fullness of her form. I adore the shapeliness of her breasts and the rather unsubtle insinuation of the size and extent of her nipples. I love her big hips, accentuated by the cut of the piece across the top of her thighs. But none of this makes me want to jump on the nearest man or woman to have full-blown intercourse. It doesn’t make me reach out for the nearest vibrator. I just love the eroticism of it, for its own sake, and whilst in a moment of quiet, I might refer back to such a picture, that is not the point of my enjoyment. It’s just a very beautiful photograph of a very beautiful woman wearing a very beautiful outfit that emphasises her very beautiful body.

I also love the idea that the costume is a sort of 21^st Century piece of art that Klimt himself could have drawn. I like the idea that this is something that he might have used in an updated version of his infamous “The Kiss” drawing, with Jay Z Carter, Beyonce’s partner, clad in a matching robe of glistening gold. In fact, I think I might suggest to the couple that, as a glorious celebration of their togetherness, their personal sexuality and their private intimacy with one another, they should commission someone to do a portrait in the style of Klimt with Beyonce wearing this very outfit.

I’m sick and tired of people criticising beautiful women for being proud of their bodies. It’s so hypocritical too. They put on their puritanical blacks and espouse the trouble for society with an influx of these sorts of images whilst simultaneously delighting in them, possibly enviously looking at every part of the woman’s body, and selling their papers in the process.

When we will realise that female empowerment will never be realised until we are comfortable with the female form? We shouldn’t shy away from our own beauty. We shouldn’t hide our assets for the sake of the comfort of others if we ourselves would like to display them more prominently. We should be able to display our assets more prominently without fear of misinterpretation, without the possibility of someone saying we are only doing this to attract attention from a potentially sexually aroused onlooker.

As a woman, I want to dress in a way that makes me feel comfortable with who I am. In my most sexual days, I guess I wanted people to know that I was happily, sexually active and if that meant I wore a top that was slightly more revealing, then that was up to me – and FOR me! If I choose to wear a top that exposes more of my cleavage when I am without a sexual partner, it doesn’t mean that I’m trying to attract attention in a fit of desperation. I’m merely wearing something that I feel comfortable in. I’ve got big tits. I celebrate the fact. End of.

Beyonce is absolutely right to wear this outfit, and if Michelle Obama wants to talk to her girls about such an outfit, then I hope she might refer to the short piece of advice that I’ve provided.

Let women be women. Let women adore their own bodies irrespective of what it does to other people. Let women choose whether they display more of their wares than some feel is appropriate. Let’s not confuse the joy of eroticism with the joy of sex. (They are different, and I shall explain my opinion on that at another time.) Let’s enjoy aestheticism more readily without being criticised for being a voyeur.

And on a final note, to the author of the attached piece, please don’t continually refer to Beyonce as “Mrs Carter” when you are addressing the issue of her clothing. Whether it was intended or not, it suggests that she “belongs” to someone else and that it’s unfitting of a married woman to bring her sexuality to the forefront of minds other than her husbands.

What is good sex?

Drinking a decent sauvignon blanc in a chic bar in town a few weeks ago, the conversation with an old friend casually limbered towards her relatively new boyfriend and their sex life – as you do!

This younger friend of mine had recently met a tall, muscular, blond beauty (according to her) and had spent the last four months exploring one another’s body with the usual vigour of early attraction.

“The sex is great” she said with a massive, satisfied and slightly smug face.

I rejoiced for her and with her. I like to hear about sex being good. I like to know that people that I care about are fully embracing their sexuality and enjoying the wonderment of this all important facet of being human.

But, in true Zenpuss style, I was also intrigued to find out what constituted good sex for this woman. This was purely  an anthropological enquiry as I am fascinated by peoples’ understanding of this judgement driven statement – sex is good.

“How good?” I asked “What is it that makes this sex good?”

She thought about it for some time, and then said, “Well, he always makes the effort to make me cum before we have penetrative sex, and we have some real enjoyable foreplay. Of course, he doesn’t make me cum vaginally because I don’t really think that’s possible. And whilst he cums quite quickly, it’s really good during the time that he’s inside me.”

Oh dear, I thought.

Without wishing to be intrusive, I had to ask a few follow –up questions.

1.       What makes you think that vaginal orgasms aren’t possible?

2.       Have you ever ejaculated?

3.       Why do you think that having short fucks that last a matter of minutes constitutes good sex?

There were more questions but these were a starting point.

With regard to the first, she explained that whilst she had seen porn sites where it looked as though people were having orgasms during penetration, she had never experienced this and thought that it was a bit of an act, akin to the screaming of Meg Ryan at the café in “When Harry Met Sally”. She said that she loved the feel of her man inside her, and it certainly excited her but didn’t bring her to a climax.

I politely and courteously explained that I had, on many occasions, reached orgasm through vaginal stimulation and that it wasn’t a figment of my imagination or the story-telling falseness of a porn video director.

“Well what does it feel like?” she said. “How do you know?”

How you know it’s an orgasm, I wondered. Well it just is!

A vaginal orgasm, I explained, doesn’t feel the same as a clitoral one but there’s something incredibly special about it, even if it doesn’t bring the deepest physical sensation that the clitty cum does. In many ways, the vaginal orgasm is deeper and more soul-lifting than the clitoral one.

It’s a difficult thing to explain to someone who has never experienced it. It’s a slow build, a lasting sensation that reverberates around your body, building and progressing and receding and renewing throughout the penetration. And yet there is still the point of climax where you can feel the delicate and intrinsic movement of cock on vagina wall with such intensity.

What sort of analogy could I use?

It’s rather like a child’s spinning top. You keep pressing down and pressing down to get the object to spin, and as you see the colours swirl into one another you begin to get excited at the prospect of the toy taking off on its own. Once the peak point has occurred, you release your hand from the spinning top and allow the toy to spin round with the force that you’ve given it. It twists and twirls, excites and energises itself through its perpetual movement, and then it gracefully slows down until it’s ready to be triggered into action again by a carefully adept human being.

Is that what a vaginal orgasm is like? To some extent, yes. The build-up is part of the delight and an integral part of the ultimate climax itself, but the beauty of it lasts throughout. It’s the growth of friction that passes by every tiny cell within, bringing it to life in just the same way as a cock reaches climax. Male ejaculation occurs through friction to the point of ejaculation. Why is it so impossible to consider that exactly the same scientific force can’t do the same for women?

“And you’ve experienced this vaginal orgasm?” my friend asked.

“Countless times” I responded. “I’m not suggesting that I cum in this way every time I have sex but very often. You need to engage your mind in the process without deliberately doing so”.

Well now we are onto a completely different learning curve. How can you explain to someone that they have to think without thinking if they have no understanding of such a contradictory concept? And this is why I write. Sex isn’t just a physical thing, and Zenpuss knows this explicitly. The Zen of sex is engaging the mind and the soul together with the body without making a conscious effort to do so. You need to lost your mind at the same time as engaging it. You need to think about the physical feeling of penetration without lingering on that thought to the detriment of the physical act of sex.

So we wandered onto the next subject of ejaculation.

“So what happens when you ejaculate?” she asked.

“Do you really want to know?” I said.

“I’m intrigued!” was her response.

“I need towels, lots of them”.

She looked at me, stifling a giggle or two. Incredulity sprawls across her face as she asks if it’s like the YouPorn clips of cascades of water emitting from a cunt.

The porn sites, full of squirters, are not digitally enhanced or computer generated. The women don’t have a balloon of water shoved up their fanny. This happens.

I explained that through both clitoral and vaginal stimulation, and preferably the two simultaneously, I (or others) can work my body into such a frenzy that it needs to release. The swelling of the organs has a range of responses but one of the responses is a physical build-up of fuck juices. Just as a man needs to release these at the point of climax then so too does a woman.

I gush, I told her. I gush, according to some, an extraordinary amount of liquid. I can do it to myself too. I can lie on a floor, open my legs, finger fuck myself to the point that I am lubricated enough to take a little bit more of my hand, and with the right frame of mind, and the right course of action, I can make myself cum, and in doing so I can spray a hell of a lot of juice out of my body.

This, for me, is an integral part of good sex. I’m not saying that this has to happen every time but I tend to be somewhat juicy and it has become an important part of my sexuality – to be able to release this incredible amount of juiciness that my body appears to manufacture during sex.

“But how do you know it’s not urine?” she asked – the question that so many people insist on asking.

I explained to her that it’s quite obviously not urine. Firstly, I tend to empty my bladder before sex anyway. I got into a habit of doing this as I did initially think that my juices may be urine and I wanted to be doubly sure that I was completely free of that sort of fluid prior to sex. I pointed out that I can pee and within minutes, with the right stimulation, can emit a cascade of liquid. Secondly, without being to blunt about the issue, it doesn’t smell like urine. It has a unique, almost neutral, smell all of its own. Thirdly, I’ve experimented and tested the emissions that prove that it’s not urine, but that’s another story.

And so we came to the final question – the longevity of sex. Good sex offers variety. A quickie can certainly be good sex, especially if it’s accompanied by mutual orgasms of whatever type but quickie after quickie with no possibility of 30, 40 or 50 minutes of love-making before climax is not what I would call good sex. No wonder she hasn’t experienced a vaginal orgasm. In my experience, that takes time. That old spinning top will peter out if you don’t’ give it enough force to speed off on its own.

The reason for talking about all of this is that it’s up to those of us who have experienced sex at its best to explain to the rest of the world what they might be missing. Good sex is good sex, some might say but when you know that good sex for others is only a fraction of what the body, mind and soul is capable of, then you really do have a duty to tell others about the real constitution of good sex.

It’s hard to explain all of this, and sometimes, it’s hard to really portray the all-encompassing brilliance of good sex but I can’t sit by and allow people to essentially experience mediocre sex when they have the potential to have brilliant sex with a person that they care about enormously. Life is too short to accept mediocrity. Life is too short to deny the importance, value and brilliance of sex, and life is certainly too short to deny the truth about female sexuality and all that it entails, which irritatingly and frustratingly still seems to be misunderstood by so many – so many who think they are enlightened in the joys of sex too!

I Want My Daughter to Sleep with her Partner

I'm lying in bed naked with a seriously small vibrator, unable to pleasure myself for three reasons.

1. I'm bored of the miniscule size of the equipment that reminds me of the inadequacy of a three-minute shag with wee blokes whose own equipment (and imagination) was sadly lacking.

2. There's something wrong down below. One of the damnable ironies of life is that a tingling sensation of an unknown infection is a little similar to the onset of an orgasm from a vigorous finger fuck.

3. My daughter is lying a flimsy wall away from me, presumably pleasuring her partner whilst I turn an insipid shade of green that she might have a warm body next to her all night whilst I lie here, legs straddled awaiting nothing but a soothing gush of cold air.

The good news is that if I do succumb to the little plastic performer, it won't take too long to tickle the tingle into a more pleasurable sensation, and yes, I do conduct an extremely hygienic clean-up operation.

They're giggling now, which is always joyous to hear. Soon, they will go through the noisy rigmarole of closing doors and opening others, to convince me that one of them is transferring to another room for the night. I really hope they don't go through with it. I really hope that they have been comforted enough by my own unsubtle door closure and exaggerated switching off of the lights, to remain in the same room and spend the night together.

That said, gawd help me if I want a glass of water or a trip to the loo in the next hour - another reason for not pleasuring my pussy.

I want them to sleep together. There are many reasons I want them to do this, number one being the immensely, warm and wonderful feeling of waking up either in the arms of a loved one or lying next to them knowing that they want to be next to you, ready to take you at their moment of wakening.

But on a purely practical level, I want them to sleep together to prevent her getting pregnant, and whilst that may sound bizarre, there is reason rather than deluded madness behind such a statement which I shall explain shortly.

Okay, there's a slight confession to be had here. It's not very likely that she's going to get pregnant. She's been taking contraception tablets for a few months now, ever since I noticed a look in her eye, and a maturity in her tone when talking about her boyfriend, that suggested to me her virginal days were about to be consigned to the past. This boyfriend and this relationship feels different - to her and to me. The soppy, awkwardness of teenage droopy-eyed ‘lurve’ is gone. I'm not saying he is THE one; forever and a day until their last breath leaves their withered body decades from now (please no!) but he could be THE one to bring her further into the bewildering brilliance of being a woman.

Just hopefully not tonight. I'd much prefer her first penetrative sexual experience to be in slightly more intimate surroundings, without the nervousness of a potential and accidental visit from a sibling - walking in on her mid flow, or without a need to curb her cries of delight so as not to offend her seemingly celibate mother.

I want my daughter to be able to scream out in ecstasy as she reaches her first penetrative climax. I want her to be enraptured and vocal when seeing her boyfriend spunk for the first time, assuming, of course, this hasn't already happened. I want her to be able to freely walk round the room and house, stark naked after sex; celebrating her liberation into womanhood.

I want her to experience all of this because she's ready for it in mind, body and soul. On reflection, had I waited and learned a little more about what I was actually doing, if I had been clear as to what I wanted, if I'd known my own body more intimately, then my first penetrative sexual experience might not have been so tragic. Furthermore, had I known how brilliant sex could be from the outset, I wouldn't have put up with huge bouts of mediocrity in my sexual life, and had I not had to wait for the real thing of complete freedom and intimacy to do absolutely anything I and a lover wanted with one another's bodies, then I might not miss it quite as much as I do.

The best things do come to those who wait, and mature sex is gratifying in a way that the spring-like urgency of youthful liaisons can't quite manage. However, l don't want my daughter to wait as long as I did for consistently wonderful sex, to the point where its loss is so painfully mourned.

So why do I think that sleeping with her boyfriend might prevent pregnancy, and let's assume she's not using any method of contraception. Whilst we're at it, let's pretend she's not my daughter. Let's imagine that she's like many, many teenagers who don't have either sexually enlightened parents or the confidence and solidity of a relationship with their parent to talk openly and comfortably about sex.

In fact, let's imagine she's a teenager who has only really found out about sex from discussions with peers, a couple of reads through "Cosmopolitan" and a secretive visit to a porn site that she could only bear to watch for the briefest of moments for fear of her internet history being tracked by her mother (who finds such sites abhorrent and abusive). Let's also assume she's had an average sex and relationships education, or let's be even more realistic and assume that she's had the sort of sex and relationships education that most kids in this country have had - the highlight of which was learning how to condom a courgette.

Let’s also assume that like many teenager over the age of consent, she has natural sexual desires.

The urge to have sex is instinctive. Desire can also instinctive to some extent but it is more to do with intuition – a feeling and a recognition and understanding of what makes you tick. Put the natural urge to fuck, together with the reasoned and rational need to respond to the mind’s desire, and that’s a force to be reckoned with. If you add to this unnatural restraints placed upon young people by parents who are understandably trying to protect them from having penetrative sex, then you are potentially forcing them into unsafe situations.

We have to acknowledge that young people have these urges and that they are so strong that they could lead a young person to defy their parents. If they can’t have sex with their parent’s permission, then that doesn’t mean that they’re not going to have sex. It just means that they might do it in a fit of passion, or with coercion, without the calm and careful use of contraception, in environments that might not be conducive to the real world of sexual wonderment. Without a proper sex and relationships education that realistically explains the joy of sex, and offers real and viable alternatives to penetrative sex, they’re going to rush into a fuck without the delightful exploration of their own sexuality and their own preferences beforehand.

I really don’t want that for my daughter. I don’t want it for anyone’s daughter or anyone’s son. I want them to experience the truly rewarding and life-enhancing brilliance of sexual empowerment and enlightenment. I want them to delay having penetrative sex for as long as possible. I want them to know their own bodies first.  I want them to explore one another’s body before penetrative sex too. I want them to be very clear in their minds that they have thought of all the connotations of having sex before they fall into an instinctive reaction to attraction.

That’s why I want my daughter to sleep with her boyfriend. I don’t want her first experience of sex to be a quick bang whilst I pop out to the shops with her siblings. I don’t want her first experience of penetrative sex to be in a field in the middle of nowhere just because this is the only place that they can get some privacy (though I do want her to experience this urgent sex eventually because al fresco is gorgeously stimulating in the right conditions). I don’t want my daughter to rush into penetrative sex without having experienced mutual masturbation or kissing in those special places that we seem unable to acknowledge in sex and relationships lessons, and I don’t want her to think that she has to have sex in exactly the same way that she might have seen on porn sites.

I honestly think that allowing her to sleep with her partner prevents unsafe situations for sex and unsafe, unprotected sex. It also has the added advantage of, when the time is right, enabling her first penetrative sexual experience to be something that she can treasure for a life time, with a proper build-up and a full understanding of one another’s bodies.

I would like all sex and relationships education teachers to really consider the whole notion of being sex positive. Young people probably laugh in their faces when teachers stick to a curriculum of factual information, denying the joy of sex and advocating a “just say no” policy of abstinence. Young people aren’t that stupid. They know that sex is good because if it wasn’t then why is our society so full of the stuff? Why are comedians seemingly obsessed with sexual stories? Why are advertisers all too willing to use sex to sell their goods? Why are newspapers and other media outlets smothered with stories about sex?

It’s an integral part of life and the sooner we all accept this, the better for ourselves and our youngsters. We need to be honest with our young people and we owe them the opportunity to experience sex in the best way possible.

For my children, I don’t want them to have the sexual start that I did. I want them to have a healthy respect for sex, and a healthy respect for the sexuality of their chosen partners as well as a full understanding of their own sexuality. I want adults to stop being so bloody hypocritical, and remember what they were doing at the same age before they start lecturing their children about sex. I want parents to remember their own experiences of early sex, and if they were good experiences, accept that their children are ready for it too and make sure that they are given the best start in their sexual lives, and if it was bad, then do everything you can to prevent that from happening to your most cherished beings.

Finally, apologies for writing so much but as you can see, I’m quite passionate about the subject. 

A New Beginning

It's been just over a year now since I woke up in bed with a lover with the delightful and life-affirming joy of wanting to make love to one another. It's been over six months since I had sex, of any description.

Anyone who has read my blog will know that I am completely committed to ensuring that women have a full understanding of their sexuality in order that they can fully enjoy life. Whilst it pains me enormously to be without sexual pleasure myself that does nothing to dampen my enthusiasm for bringing the full force of glorious sexuality to others.

My sexuality and my enjoyment of sexuality is in the intimacy I have with a lover. It's not and never was just about sex and physical desire. Anybody who knows me intimately knows that to be true. I don't lust after any particular person. I do "lust" after intimacy with a person - though lust is definitely the wrong word.

But that's just about me. I understand and appreciate fully other women who just like sex. It works for them on a purely physical level, and that is absolutely fine too.

Sex is a vital component of life, and coming from one who has experienced an extremely asexual life as well as years of being overtly sexual, I think I know what I am talking about.

Today is the start of a new month, a new season and brings forth the potential for new life.

I am not giving up on my sexuality and I am certainly not giving up on raising the awareness of female sexuality for others. I love sex and I want others to love sex too. I've had a horrible and, in my opinion, humiliating experience. Not being desirable to someone is one thing. Not being told is something completely different. It's humiliating, and that humiliation is the very greatest of turn-offs. This isn't about blame. It's an opinion, and I want this to be absolutely clear, I am not apportioning blame to myself or to others. Relationships are complicated. That's life. Honesty in complicated. That's life too. Sex can complicate. That also is part of life's richness, be it positive or the opposite.

Today, I want to reignite the very dormant state of Zenpuss. She has lived in a shadow of uncertainty and lack of fulfilment for too long. As much as she misses sex, she misses talking about sex too, and she misses her own voice in hopefully helping others to embrace the wonderment of their sexuality.

To this end, I shall begin to write once more, and hopefully, one day, I will have a note from someone somewhere who says that my thoughts and ideas have awakened or reawakened their sexuality.

Is Monogamy dead?

Is Monogamy Dead? Says the title of this article which is well worth a read, as are the many comments below the line.

http://www.guardian.co.uk/lifeandstyle/2012/nov/10/sex-is-monogamy-dead?commentpage=all#start-of-comments

In response to this question many contributors and commentators alike say “was monogamy ever alive?”

Meg Barker, a relationship counsellor and lectures says “ It is interesting that we readily accept someone loving more than one child, sibling or friend without their love for one of them diluting the love for others, but when it comes to romantic or sexual love most people cannot accept it happening more than once at a time."

Catherine Hakim, a sociologist who has been controversial before with her notion that women should use their sexuality as “erotic capital” says "The fact that we eat most meals at home with spouses and partners does not preclude eating out in restaurants to sample different cuisines and ambiences, with friends or colleagues.

Anyone rejecting a fresh approach to marriage and adultery, with a new set of rules to go with it, fails to recognise the benefits of a revitalised sex life outside the home."

So true on both accounts.

Diversity in all areas of life should be explored. The fact that those of us who are polyamorous cannot come out and admit to it for fear of a multitude of repercussions is a crime against humanity, seriously.

But nothing is as simple and straightforward as having a yes or a no response.

For those people who do live monogamously in life, it is neither dead nor disgusting. It is totally about choice, and we have to appreciate that it works for some people – in fact, according to this article at least 50% of the population. For those who live polyamorously, this too is neither right nor wrong, though these relationships do have to be managed carefully whether they are open (all partner’s knows other relationships) or not.

What is wrong, however, is this societal notion that a multiple-relationship lifestyle is wrong when evidently, half or more of western society indulge in extra-marital relationships or relationships outside the primary one.

Polyamory can work. For those who choose, for many reasons, to hide their polyamory from their partner, it can work. It’s difficult. It’s hard work but it can be maintained and managed to suit everyone’s needs, even the person who has allegedly been cheated on. They have the satisfaction of the status quo, even though their intuition might be telling them a few home truths about what is actually happening. Don’t rock the boat, they say, and we can maintain this illusion to keep the peace.

For those who admit to polyamory, it can also work but it needs a healthy dose of honesty in order to do so.

There are as many forms of polyamory as there are relationships, and from experience, and bitter experience at that, it can be extremely difficult when what you thought you had bought into, through lengthy discussions on the onset of an additional relationship joining in with your own, turns out to be something completely different.
Of course, when you are embarking on a new relationship with someone, you don’t know where it is going to go, you don’t know whether you can promise or imply long-term commitment to your partner as well as having a relationship with another human being, but you can at least try in the initial months and indeed year, to remember what you had “agreed” and try to ensure that your initial partner feels as loved and as important as he or she always has.

Or you can fuck up. And then your partner can fuck up. And so it goes on.

I am whole-heartedly committed to polyamory and yet there is one thing that nags at me all the time. I find it extremely difficult to understand how people can be equally “intimate” with two people at the same time, despite the quotes above from Barker and Hakim. Ultimately, I do think there is one person that you turn to, one person that you are closer to, one person that knows you better than anyone else, one person that you are completely open to and with.

And this is where I have fallen down.  As the initial or primary person in a relationship, I thought, naively, that this would be enough. I’d done the right thing by accepting a partner’s need for other relationships. Wasn’t that a gracious enough thing to do? Did I have to lose the intimacy too, largely due to my inability to accept the equity of intimacy, exacerbated by the refusal of my partner (or whatever) to tell me the extent of his (or her) involvement with others or his (or her) other partner’s need and desire for something different from their relationship?

Simple answer is that everything changes. We are where we are. We live in the moment with the feeling that are happening now, not what happened before and not what might happen in the future. Yet this is far too simple.

Of course life changes, relationships change and so forth but they don’t have to change to the point of not being. They don’t have to change to be something that is totally distinguishable with what was. But it takes effort in order to do this.

When you are so utterly close to someone, it’s difficult to accept that they could possibly be that intimate and close with another but you just have to accept the fact that they can, and it really doesn’t have to destroy a perfectly brilliant relationship. But you must be honest with one another, and if a relationship is worth maintaining, then you have to work at maintaining it.

Monogamy was never alive and it was never dead. Serial monogamy is not wrong, it is perfectly understandable. Polyamory with a primary partner and additional others is a perfectly acceptable form of relationship (and of course, my preferred option). Polyamory with total equity within two, three or more relationships is completely viable too, despite my inability to come to terms with it, largely based on writing and words spoken that implied that this would never happen – which I still believed for a very long time.

All forms of relationship are acceptable and should be accepted within society, on condition that they are not abusive. Anything can work as long as there is open communication if that is agreed or complete silence if that is what has been implicitly been decided.

I live and I learn. I know what I want and I do not want monogamy, not now, not ever, neither for me nor any partner I may have. I may like periods of time when there is only me, but I would never, ever insist on monogamy however much I love the intimacy of a relationship.

The simple fact is that anything goes, and we should accept that and appreciate it, but it can only work if people accept that anything goes and live accordingly, and I know that I have not been able to do that, to my great detriment. It can only work if a decision for openness is adhered to, or the decision for secrecy is subliminally agreed with that “no questions asked” attitude. What you can’t have is openness and then a closure of that openness which leaves a person despondent and feeling rather foolish and deluded.

Life is harsh sometimes, and I really hope that one day we will, and I will, finally get my head around relationships and all the multitude of possibilities that comes with them.

It’s hard and I am still learning, still thinking every single day of how my attitude, my beliefs can and will change. I am completely out of my comfort zone at present, and one day, in the future, I will find an equilibrium that suits me, when I finally decide what it is that makes me tick.

But be assured, it won’t ever be monogamy.

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A Footnote that have been considering all morning since writing this. The issue isn't about monogamy or polyamory. It is about respect; not just for the people in the relationship but the people who are alsoa ffected by the relationship. To say that it is cruel on the incoming partner in a polyamorous relationship to explain the extent of the relationship with the primary partner is just plain wrong, because by not explaining the extent of the initial relationship is cruel to the primary partner. Not respecting certain boundaries, at least in the initial stages, that can be negotiated and reviewed later is wrong. Not respecting people outside the relationship who are affected by its complexities is thoughtless.

All of these things need to be resolved in polyamorous relationships and then they can work most effectively and tranquilly.
Just a thought.

Cross-dressing, homosexuality or just plain sexual enjoyment

Dear readers, have a look at this letter from a worried ‘girlfriend’.

http://www.guardian.co.uk/lifeandstyle/2012/oct/21/my-boyfriend-wears-womens-underwear

If you don’t want to follow the link, here’s a quick summary.

Girlfriend is worried that her boyfriend is gay because he likes to wear her panties under his work suits.

The great Doctor responded by saying that it’s unlikely that he’s gay but may be showing that he is a cross-dresser.

Wrong with a capital W, Dr. Stephenson. Wrong with another capital W from some of the below the line contributors who either find this appalling or continue with the old adages about cross-dressing.

From my own very wonderful experience, your man wanting to wear your undies is NOT a sign that they are a cross-dresser. It doesn’t mean they are about to reach for your nearest bra or your favourite stockings and skirts.

What it means is that they like having something of you close to them in a possibly quirky but utterly delightful way.

One of my fondest memories of my lover is receiving a text from him to tell me that he was not only wearing my panties, but was also wearing my tights on a cold day in February. My response? Reach out for the dildo and give yourself a delightful orgasm as you consider the wonderment of this man’s sexuality and his desire to be close to me even when I’m not with him.

I also have many photos of him dressed in an array of my lacy lovelies, with his bits in and out. They are extremely erotic photos and ones that I will treasure for the moment in which they were captured. There’s nothing kinky or dirty or coarse about it. In fact I felt it was one of the most loving things ever done for me and with me.

Wearing other people’s underwear is absolutely not a sign that someone wants to cross-dress. I would have worn my lover’s undergarments if I’d ever been given the opportunity to do so, and I hope that he continues to wear my panties should the desire take him.

Open your minds, lovely people, and start making those lovely sexual thoughts into reality. Wear each other’s clothes if it suits you, don’t think of it as a rocking great crime because it damn well isn’t.

And don’t think that just because your bloke likes the feel of lace against his own skin, possibly as a reminder of the delightful arse and cunt that is usually in it, that he is somehow deranged.

He’s not, and neither are you for enjoying it.

Nuns on the Sex Run

Can you really go from being a nun to a sex therapist? Of course you can. This woman, Dr. Fran Fisher, is living proof that this type of transformation can take place.

http://www.guardian.co.uk/lifeandstyle/2012/oct/15/nun-who-became-sex-therapist

As indeed am I.

Not that I was ever a nun, you understand, though my behaviour was certainly akin to someone who had taken the vow of chastity.

Brought up in a strongly religious family where sex was never, ever discussed, the only chance of developing one’s sexuality was by going with your instinct and learning “on the job”.

I was always interested in the opposite sex. Come to think of it, I was always quite interested in the same sex too but that thought couldn’t possibly be contemplated, and it took me years to finally admit my fascination for the female form as much as the delights of penetrative sex.

But retrospectively, I was hopelessly naïve. I hid my masturbation for years, not even admitting to the person who took my virginity away from me that I was a perpetual wanker, and had been for many years. I even managed to separate the pleasure of masturbation and the climaxes that I could give myself with the first  and subsequent experiences of penetrative sex. Never once did I have an orgasm with this man. Never once did he touch my clitoris and make me cum. Never once did I know of my ability to spread my legs and shower the onlooker with a delightful spray of sexual juices.
And all because I was hopelessly unable to talk about my sexuality, and thus it was suppressed as much as the nun in the article above.

Enabling people to be honest about sexuality would overcome so many problems.

If only we could be honest about sex. If we were honest about sex perhaps we could have more love-making in the world.

A friend often talks of how women come into their own sexually when they turn forty, or thereabouts. The fear of unwanted pregnancy is passing. The notion of having sex for procreation is often over. The sex can now be enjoyed.

Only it can’t be enjoyed unless you talk about, and I’m beginning to think that there must be a distinct correlation between talking and doing here. Perhaps, if we could encourage women to talk about sex and stop feeling as though they are dirty in doing so, then perhaps women could enjoy their sexuality long before their fortieth birthday. If I’d felt at ease talking about masturbation, about my fascination for boobs, about my hunger for penetrative sex frequently, then I might have enjoyed sex in my twenties and thirties far more than I did.

I never demanded sex, never really appreciated it because I had no idea how capable I was sexually.

It’s time to talk, and we need to talk more openly now.

Wake up world.

This article blames Catholicism and various other suppressive tendencies for this woman’s inability to come to terms with her sexuality until she was older, but it’s not just the Catholics that are suppressed. It’s not even just the religious. We’re so frightened by sex that we shield our own selves from its joy and its wonderment. We’re frightened of screaming out and telling an astonished world that we want sex.

Let’s embrace sex and sexuality and stop another generation from suffering the effects of not having sex. Let's prevent them from having bad sex, and let's try and understand how difficult it is once the light has shone..........