Today

Today my therapist said I was my own biggest impediment and then she laughed. I think she said something along the lines of, “give me a moment,” and she laughed. Not hysterically, not with joy, I think it was an honest to god giggle.

If that weren’t strange enough I have no sex drive. None. Whatsoever. If my libido were a sleeping bear, then I was throwing boulders at its head today and it was completely unresponsive. I wonder if anyone would read a blog called flatlinedlibido?

In other news:

I observed a what’s the word, it isn’t meter maid, parking enforcement officer perhaps? I witnessed a parking enforcement  cop threaten to tow a USPS mini van for parking in a 30min spot while delivering mail. I don’t understand what the world is saying to me today, but I’m sure I’d get it if I would just get out of my own fucking way.

Anonymity

There’s something about writing with anonymity that I relish. One of the reasons is because of the subject matter of this blog. Not really something I want my in-laws to inadvertantly find whilst looking up some information on their daughter in law. Probably best in that regard, no?

The interweb does provide anonymity of its own which offers additional freedom. I can’t decide if I would be inclined to write more as myself or as Evie.

Writing is scary. Let me rephrase…Writing under my own name is scary be it in blog form or an essay. Tweeting and blogging anonymously, not so scary. It is as if adding that layer somehow furnishes me with a set (the kind most women aren’t born with).

My question to myself is what am I afraid of? Is it really the subject matter? I am going to say no. My closest friends know about my shenanigans though I don’t share explicit details with them. In person I am very open and get the feeling that it makes others uncomfortable and sometimes that bothers me and other times I couldn’t give less of a fuck.

For those of you out there who write anonymously or otherwise, how did you decide to do so? What motivates you? Something about putting my name on something makes me afraid of my own shadow. Clearly this is something I have to get over.

Everybody’s doing it!*

What are they doing? Writing about 50 Shades. I have to say I agree with the reviews I’ve read about the book. Like some of them, I have not read it. I’m relatively new to BDSM, but not erotica. It saddens and disappoints me that some fabulous authors have yet to be discovered, but I am hoping that the interest generated by FSOG will steer people to better smut. Here are reviews by bloggers/writers that I admire and find enertaining. Happy reading!

CoCo La Creme by way of metanotherfrog.com

Ariel from kenandriel.com here’s one of my favorite snippets:

I got so confused – here we have a young woman, possibly schizophrenic, with facial tics, and some sort of genetic mutation that gives her orgasms with literally the possibility of a penis in the vicinity of her vag. And she’s America’s erotic sweetheart?

Violet Blue Article:50 Shades of Linkbait

Mistress Matisse Every now and then something about the books pops up on her twitter feed.

Tristan Taormino and Rachel Kramer Bussel on Sex Out Loud.

Sarah Wendell of Smart Bitches

And those are the deep thoughts I’m having on this sunny and cold Monday morning. Hey, aggregating links can be tedious especially on a Monday!

*I have the word kinky in my url. It’s kind of dumb that I haven’t addressed this before.

An unlikely pair

I have had a friend. He is unlike any friend I have had before. Years ago, and by years I mean more than one and less than five, we corresponded as two married people looking for who-knows-what…the missing spark? Passion and excitement? Filthy dirty sex?

There’s a long version and a short version. I will stick to the short one for now. We wrote, and wrote, and exchanged pictures and wondered and hemmed and hawed and eventually met. He was just like his photo…no, probably hotter. We never became lovers but for all intents and purposes we had an emotional affair.

Then things got complicated, as they are wont to do when dealing in affair-type things.

I could tell him the raunchy and sometimes embarrassing details of an encounter I had. I could seek advice on things from extramarital affairs, to porn, to where to grab a great bite of Indian food. We debated his addiction to REI and talked about oral sex ad nauseam.

We “spoke” everyday. E-mail primarily, but also IMs, googletalk, text messages, and the very rare phone call. If I recall correctly he was the person I spoke with the day my husband went on his first date. I think maybe that was hubby’s first overnight, I was more than a little frazzled.

The day his divorce was finalized (about a year ago) I met him at a bar near the courthouse and brought him cupcakes. I figured you celebrate wedding with cake, why not the end of a marriage? Who doesn’t love a cupcake? I also had no fucking idea why I was there, or what he needed and having been an emotional eater before that’s what I default to in my brain for comforting others.

As was probably obvious at the beginning of this post that friendship has come to an end. I miss him, but have soldiered on. I am still processing bits and pieces and think I need to honor that friendship as part of the moving on thing. I will attempt to keep it chronologically accurate and won’t share his name even if I do share some of his proclivities and a few of the fabulous turns of phrase he delighted me with. I always told him I would write a book and he’d have his own chapter. Like most he is a non-native of Seattle, lured by one or another high-tech job to the outdoorsy PNW. For now I’ll call him Simon. He’s English and his chapter would be, “A Cautionary Tale.”

Did I mention how much of a perv he is? God bless gentlemanly, pervy guys with blue eyes and British accents.

Where do you hang your hats??

I have just started reading The Bloggess’ book. I’m going to say first book because I suspect there will be more where this comes from… Also even if it isn’t her first book, it’s the first one I’ve read.

I’ve already choked on my coffee once.

I am currently giggling maniacally at the part about cleaning a deer. Reminds me of the time I brought friends from prep school to my parent’s house for the first time. They looked at the taxidermied deer heads/antlers with various trucker caps hanging from them as something less than normal. It never dawned on me that deer antlers were not the same things as hat racks.

My dad work trucker baseball caps. They had to be clean and they had to be made of mesh and the brims had to be straight across. My mother would launder them with a special truck cap washing doodad that I’m certain was purchased at a rodeo event… Don’t all people purchase gadgets at rodeos? I mean between watching concerts on stages dragged onto the rodeo dirt?

Reading this book almost makes me feel less weird, though I doubt that’s what the author intended. I had a similar childhood only we were brown, poor, lived in South Central Texas and my dad cleaned his deer outside. Remind me to tell you the, “I shot Bambi’s mother” story sometime. That was a hoot!

Something new

Don’t you just love it when you discover something new? And by something new, I mean, something new to you. Fran Lebowitz. Started watching a documentary about her and I’m smitten.

When I was a child, it was called talking back. Now it’s called public speaking.” Fran Lebowitz

This is the quote I had to listen to a second and then a third time. The second because I forced my husband to listen. The third because during the second listen the dog started barking loudly for no apparent reason. When he does this one of us usually asks, “What is it boy? Did little Timmy fall in a well?” That might not be funny to you, but it is entertaining in this house.

I’m going to continue watching the documentary now. I feel I have so much to catch up on! I have such hopes that we will be great friends…no, I don’t intend to stalk her. Living in Seattle makes east coast stalking pricey and tedious.

FYI, Sometimes I think I’m a witty, older, Jewish woman from New York. Perhaps there is one in here after all still trying to claw her way out.

Things not to do (if you’re getting a little extra on the side)

Don’t buy your side-dish/fb something at Victoria’s Secret and get on the mailing list. It kind of gives you away when I see that you’re getting promotional materials addressed to you, and I know you didn’t buy me stuff recently….

For the record, I am more of a Nordy’s girl anyway, I only get my flannel pjs at VS.

I think I’m going to start a new category: whatnottodo

Perhaps someone can learn from my husband’s mistakes.

To be fair, I knew my husband was seeing someone, we both were. Things took a turn and we had to put the kibosh on the whole thing. It is things like the VS catalog showing up in his name that remind me of the things that went awry.