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Loss of a Friend
Posted:Jan 28, 2015 7:28 am
Last Updated:Jan 28, 2015 12:07 pm

It's strange fascinating how we react to certain events in our lives. Rob was a colleague of mine, based in the Netherlands, from a previous company. While I was there, our mutual respect for each others abilities forged a friendship. We were both complete motorheads and Formula 1 fanatics and would debate various aspects of drivers and teams whenever we saw each other, chatted on the phone, or traded emails. We'd wind up getting together two or three times per year; sometimes in Holland, others in the US.

When I moved to another company, Rob and I kind of lost touch, as often happens. We'd fire off the occasional email to one another but we probably went four or so years without any interaction. About a year ago, I learned Rob had cancer that, short of a miracle, was terminal. I reached out to him and we exchanged a few notes back and forth, catching up and bitching about the new rules in Formula 1.

Today, I received word of Rob's passing. I'm a guy and, therefore not allowed to show or feel emotion. But the truth is I'm a bit taken aback by how hard his death has hit me. While there was a great deal of mutual respect between us, our friendship wasn't incredibly deep. But the punch in the gut happened just the same. Perhaps it's the whole 'taken before his time' dynamic. I won't speculate because I just don't know. What I do know is that tonight, I'll break out my bottle of Remy and raise a glass to Rob. Rest in peace, my friend.
Kindle – It was the best of times, it was the worst of times
Posted:Jan 27, 2015 3:19 pm
Last Updated:Dec 5, 2021 10:1 am

Several years ago, I succumbed to the siren’s song of the Amazon Kindle. I initially resisted but, as someone who travels frequently for business, often internationally, it was the perfect solution. I could get books on the run, avoiding a last minute run to the bookstore. Plus, I can tell you it’s no fun being stuck in Tokyo, and the flight back, with nothing to read. Yeah, not so many books in English floating around over there. But more importantly, it was a major space saver. The three (or more) paperbacks, necessary for a longish trip to Asia take up a lot of real estate in one’s luggage. So, I bought my first one and never looked back.

Owning a Kindle has turned me into a voracious reader. Kindle Unlimited isn’t making a profit on my account. Admittedly, there are more fluff novels on my device than books with depth. Yes, I’m an action / espionage / assassin with a heart of gold junkie. If a book came from the keyboards of Vince Flynn (God rest his soul) or Brad Thor, I’ve read it. In my defense, a large part of this has to do with where I digest much of the content. The stuffy, diminished oxygen air you’re sucking at 35k feet isn’t conducive to Tolstoy or Dostoyevsky. I know this from personal experience, unsuccessfully trying to get through Dante’s Inferno on a few flights.

But lately, I’ve noticed a trend that is both encouraging and irritating. I don’t think there can be much debate that the proliferation of e-readers has completely changed the paradigm of publishing. On the positive side, by utilizing the digital format, an author can be ‘published’ and build an audience that wouldn’t have been possible otherwise. As a result, I’ve discovered a number of new authors who likely would remain unknown without the e-book format. For example, if you’re a special ops fan, you need to read Jack Murphy’s works. As a former operator himself, his books contain a gritty realism that draws you in.

But as much as Jack Murphy exemplifies the positive impact of the e-reader, he also provides an excellent example of the downside. As good as Jack’s books are, the best of them also seems to have not been seen by the eyes of a proofreader. And his aren’t the only books to suffer from this affliction. Other works I’ve read take lack of proofreading to a new level, well beyond the occasional transposed word or an errant spell check suggestion. The one I just finished took the parenthetical phrase to new levels of disaster. I’d reach the end of a long sentence and have to go back to the beginning to reassure myself that, indeed, the whole string of words made zero sense. It becomes a bit frustrating when you have to piece together groups of unrelated words and phrases to figure out what the hell they’re saying. Even more so when the nonsense refers to a critical point in the plot.

So, there’s the good, bad, and ugly. What’s your take on the Kindle and have you noticed the same issues or am I more pedantic than I give myself credit for?

Oh, and you get off my lawn!
Parenting - The Sequel
Posted:Jan 25, 2015 2:31 pm
Last Updated:Apr 11, 2015 5:42 pm

This has been sitting in my folder for a few weeks so I thought I'd throw it online sans final anal retentive editing.

In reading some of the comments to my Crap Parents blog post (Thank You!), a few parenting stories of my own have popped back into my head. I’ll admit that the memories are somewhat bittersweet, as I no longer have contact with the step I grew to love as my own. Distance and a vindictive ex-wife, unfortunately, were enough to seal that fate.

Anyway, I thought I’d share some real world examples of my own on how not being afraid to be a hard ass as a parent, can be a good thing. Both stories involve my step-; the one with screaming ADHD and resulting impulse control issues. Keep in mind, particularly for the second story, that I was known as the hard ass of the two parental figures in her life.

One Saturday afternoon, I was alone in the house with my . She was planning to head to a music festival and was eagerly waiting for one of her friends to pick her up. I knew she was excited about the concert, having mentioned it several times during the previous week. At some point, my attention was drawn to noise coming from the street / cul de sac in front of our home. Looking out, I saw a worn out Chrysler minivan attempting to do donuts. I called up to my and asked if that was her friend. She said that wasn’t his car to which I responded that it had better not be because there was no way my , step or otherwise, was riding with that idiot. I was also pretty angry because we lived in a rather nice neighborhood; yes, part of it was being a snob but a larger part was because there were small present.

The next thing I knew, you guessed it, the minivan pulled into our driveway and honked the horn. I reminded my of the time honored father’s code of ‘if you honk your horn in my driveway, you’d better be dropping off a package because you ain’t picking up my ’, and made it very clear she was not riding with this moron. She was not so happy but said she’d tell her friend she wasn’t going. The next thing I know, the aforementioned friends (another friend had tagged along) were on my back deck, where I was smoking a cigar (still not sure what I ever saw in those things). In a respectful tone, he asked why I wouldn’t allow my to go with him. After I laid out the reasons, he proceeded to explain to me why I was wrong. To this day, I’m quite proud of myself for not having two bodies to bury in the back yard. However, after about two minutes of discourse between the two of us, I informed him his departure would be a wise move. That a strange telling a man he was dumb in his own home was no different than specifically asking to have the living daylights beaten out of him.

Numb nuts finally left and my sequestered herself into her room. Much as I wanted to just let things lie, I decided a good father would chat with his about the event. Knowing how much she was looking forward to the concert, I knew I’d be facing the untamed wrath of a teenage girl. I knocked on her door and walked in.

Before I even got two words out of my mouth, my jumped up and threw her arms around me. With tears in her eyes, she told me how grateful she was to have me as her dad. That she’d never had anyone she could count on to protect her until I came along. To say I was shocked would be an understatement. That moment still brings a tear to my eyes.

The other story I’d like to share happened about six months after their mother and I separated. I was chatting with my step and she told me how much she missed me. She said that she missed the structure I brought as a parent. This shocked me a bit and I jokingly reminded her of her and her brother’s comments about my being the hard ass parent. And then she said something I’ll never forget, so long as I live. ‘You were firm, but you were fair, and we always knew you loved us.’ Wow, pretty powerful stuff, at least for me.

Beyond recounting seemingly self-serving stories, my point is that need a healthy, repeat healthy, structure during their formative years. Regardless of how much they fight it sometimes, they crave structure; they appreciate it. Honestly, it’s sometimes easier to let things slide. You think ‘I just don’t feel like dealing with the drama right now. I’ll deal with it later.’ If you’re not prepared to enforce your rules, then don’t set them.

At the risk of going into full babble mode, I’ll share one more story. I was with a female friend recently. Her had his three cousins staying with her for a few nights over the holidays, so there were four pre- boys in the house. They were typical rambunctious and a lot of fun. At 8:45 pm, she announced that lights out would be at 9:00. 9:00 came and went with no effect on the mayhem upstairs. At 9:15, I reminded her of her lights out time. She responded that they were just being boys and I shouldn’t be such a hard ass. She completely missed the point! I had no issue with the boys having fun. What I had an issue with was her drawing a line in the sand and walking away from it.

You might read this and think I ran my home like Army basic training. You’d be wrong. I didn’t have rules for everything; trust me, I’ve seen the damage that can do to . Rules and limits were in place where it made sense but, in general, my had a fair amount of autonomy, so long as they continued to earn it. When rules were broken, there were consequences commensurate with the importance of the rule. Those consequences were consistent and uniformly enforced.
1 comment
Rant of the Day - Socks
Posted:Jan 13, 2015 2:27 pm
Last Updated:Jan 14, 2015 5:35 am

The most thought provoking, titillating topic of the day - socks. My question is why on God's green earth I can't buy a pack of blue socks where all three pair are identical???? But'll get three different pairs, including one you wouldn't wear to change to scoop out a septic tank, it's so ugly.

And you know damned well that one of those new socks will make a break for sock heaven, whether it be in the recesses of the dryer or behind a piece of furniture. But instead of having two pair left, with a reserve, you've got two pair and an orphan bastard of a sock that you'll have to put out of its misery.

I'd ask the question of who thought this was a good idea but I know the answer. The sock manufacturer! It's a win win for them. They move the ugly styles that the boss's in law ordered. Plus, they know that smart guys like me will order two packs to ensure they have backups. Well, no more, I'm taking a footwear stand!

Oh, I do have more important things on my mind than socks but I just got done ordering some and decided to vent.

Now you get off my lawn!
1 comment
Crap Parents
Posted:Jan 10, 2015 10:38 am
Last Updated:Jan 15, 2015 6:40 am

I’ve noticed a recurring theme with a number of women I’ve met recently that both irritates and scares me. Being the blunt person I am, I’ll come out and say it; they’re crap parents. Before I head down the path, let me provide some context. First, I make no claims to be an expert on parenting. However, I do have experience with my (former) step in raising them from preteens to majority. One was ADHD as well as the ‘black’ of a BPD mother. For reasons that will become obvious later, I’ll also mention that I was an only and ADHD myself, before anyone knew what ADHD was. I’ve done a fair amount of reading on ADHD as well, so I’m pretty in tune with the condition.

So, what makes some of the women I’ve met crap parents? A few things, actually. First, comes the irritating part. It seems that the ones with who have behavior problems (and there seem to be more than I’d thought there would be out there) are the ones who want absolutely no input from anyone else on attempting to modify that behavior. They discount any knowledge you might have gained by raising your own and are often combative when you try to share some of that knowledge. One of my favorites was with a woman I was dating who couldn't get her 12 year old ready for school without having to yell at him multiple times for each step. Get up, brush your teeth, get dressed, etc. The would stop after each step and wander into space. When I told her that something needed to be done to get his act together, she replied ‘that’s how teenagers are but you wouldn't know anything about that.’ Uh, yeah, I’ve got no experience with teenagers, particularly those two who ran around my house and were getting themselves to school way before age 12…what was I thinking?

As you can imagine, regardless of how compatible you might be with someone, it’s a bit difficult to respect them when they tell you to butt out, that they know how to parent their . Then those same have a meltdown and tell their mother they hate her, for no apparent reason, ten minutes later. Yeah, you’ve got it well in hand, ‘mom’.

From my perspective, the common thread in most of the poorly behaving , is lack of consequences and boundaries. Certain behavior is par for the course with . Messy rooms, some whining, sneaking cookies, etc. Obviously, it shouldn’t be encouraged but you have to roll with that stuff and not harp on it. Hell, it’ll kill you if you don’t learn to pick your battles. I’m a big fan of the 7 positive comments to each negative; I saw great results when I consciously incorporated that into my own interactions with my step .

However, there are behaviors that cross a boundary into completely unacceptable behavior. Meltdowns, mouthing off to parents (hell, anyone really), stealing, etc. Yet, I see parents letting these behaviors occur and excuse it as their ‘expressing themselves’ or some other bullshit. ‘We need to find a positive reward system for their good behavior.’ Yeah, that’s worked great so far! If you allow a to get away with this behavior without appropriate consequences, you’re teaching them that it’s okay. Furthermore, what do do best? They push boundaries.

A friend of mine is the perfect example of this. Over the course of the three years I’ve known her, I’ve observed her ’s behavior progress from bad to worse. He’s never had any compunction over having a meltdown in front of me, over something trivial like not being able to take his tablet to bed (which should never even be considered, IMH. Nor has he shown any hesitance to mouth off to me, although he tends to do that once he’s mostly up the stairs. In general, he’s a spoiled little brat. Never have I seen any consequences dished out for the bad behavior; only excuses of how he’s ADHD and unable to control his impulses. Well, sure enough, a few weeks ago, he went off (again, over something trivial) and out it came…’Fuck you!’ Surely, there were consequences for this outburst. Nope. Nor were there any for him attempting to physically take something she had confiscated in a rare instance of attempted punishment.

The bottom line is that a parent treats mouthing off / defiant insubordination the same as the having a dirty room, how is the expected to differentiate between the two? If you haven't taught your (ren) proper boundaries, and refuse guidance from those who have (or sought other assistance), you are a crap parent. End of story.

And this leads me to what will likely be a controversial assertion; that single women are at somewhat of a disadvantage in raising . Be very clear that I’m not saying they’re not good parents but just at a disadvantage. The advantage of having a father in the house is that it brings the ‘nuclear option’ to the table. For example, you can imagine being an only , I was pretty spoiled. And my ADHD could have meant trouble with my poor impulse control. However, I knew there were boundaries on what I could spout off to my parents. I also knew that, if I exceeded them, my father would kick the shit out of me. As a result, I never told my parents to go screw themselves or anything of the sort.

My step was screaming ADHD; her therapist told me she was the most impulsive person she’d ever met. Understandably, there were unpleasant encounters from time to time. Only a matter of time before I received a ‘fuck you’ right? Or maybe from my step , asserting his manhood. Nope, there were clear boundaries in place so that both knew exactly how the script would read. ‘Blah, blah, blah, fuck you….hey, how’d I get on the floor?’ I don’t doubt for a second that many readers had the same dynamic in their homes growing up.

And it was a universal truth both for me growing up, as well as for my step . If you laid a hand on your mother, you’d be visiting the ER.

Wow, threatening your with violence; how horrible! Funny thing is I don’t recall my father ever threatening to beat the hell out of me. I know I never threatened my . It was just a given that crossing certain lines would not be tolerated. And, to be clear, the only physical punishment I got from my dad were limited to a few well deserved spankings. Furthermore, I never raised a hand to either of my . Much like maintaining a nuclear weapons arsenal, just having the capability and willingness to use it ensured I never had to.

Back to my assertion. Unfortunately, the threat of physical consequences to a teenage boy from a 5’4” mom just won’t be as much of a deterrent as from a man. So, moms have to be even more resourceful and, quite frankly, more vigilant in establishing and enforcing clear boundaries. And they must do so much earlier, when they are still physically imposing to their demon offspring.

So, there’s my usual epic post. I’d love to hear opinions from others. Perhaps I’m way off base; if so, tell me. Also, I feel like a curmudgeon with my ‘downer posts’ but I tend to write about what’s sticking in my head, mostly as a cathartic exercise. I promise to return to fluffy material for my next post. In the meantime, in the spirit of being a grumpy man for the week, get off my lawn!
0 Comments , 2 Pending
Damn That's Hot! - Part C
Posted:Jan 8, 2015 7:33 am
Last Updated:Jan 9, 2015 6:50 am

Here's the final installment of the series.

4 – Take an active role – One of the things I pride myself on, is the skill to ensure sex with me is more of an experience than a standalone act. Kind of like Disney World, but with sex toys. Not going to go into details beyond that it’s about setting the right mood for the direction the evening’s play is going to take, usually keying off my partner’s vibes prior to the funky stuff. I’m a Type A and very competitive, so my goal is to make my partner remember me with the right amount of dampness. Physically, I’ll work my ass off to insure she walks away with a bit of stiffness in her thighs. That being said, it’s nice, to occasionally not be the one to take the lead. Even nicer is to ensure I get to cum, from time to time. Yes, a guy just said that and this is not an alternate universe.
You see, after 45 minutes of proper thrusting, one’s johnsonrod tends to become desensitized. Plus, by that point, I’m hitting the wall, in terms of general stamina. Throw in more than one partner who could be referred to as ‘gushers’ (where friction becomes almost non-existent), then add certain women’s tendency to buck their hips when they orgasm, and you wind up having a coronary before your own orgasm. Again, I’m all about pleasing my partner but, if we’ve had sex half a dozen times and I haven’t had an orgasm, I’m probably gonna lose some interest. Yeah, it’s nice to hear ‘you’ve screwed me into a catatonic state’ or ‘I think you broke me’ but, for cryin’ out loud, suck it up and finish me off once in a while!

5 – The right amount of submissiveness – Being a Type A personality, both in and out of the bedroom, it follows that I appreciate when my partner is on the submissive side. Surprisingly, this isn’t as important as I’d initially thought. In fact, there is such a thing as a partner being too submissive for me. Exhibit A would be a woman I dated for a year or so. She was incredibly sub in the sack. It seemed that no matter what I envisioned in terms of dominating her, she would get more excited. Tie her to the bed and violate her in nasty ways? She was in. Inflict pain and humiliation? She’d be first in line. You’d think that having what I would consider the ultimate fuck toy would be awesome. And it was, for a while. But I ultimately hit the realization, much like in some of the other examples, that I was doing all the work, all the time. It seemed that there was more ‘doing to her’ than ‘doing things to each other’. Sure, I pride myself on putting in the effort blah, blah, blah. But, if I’m the only one putting in any effort in the bedroom, you’d better start putting effort elsewhere, like cleaning my kitchen. Yes, that was a chauvinistic comment and I’ll own it.

6 – A Connection – Yep, it helps to respect the person you’re about to get naked with. To want to spend time with them beyond the bedroom. It makes you want to put the effort into making the experience as gratifying for both parties as possible. Respect is so key for me, in terms of sleeping with someone. As I told a woman I was dating, I truly can’t treat a woman like a unless I respect her.
Respect builds trust and trust is crucial toward trying things that push your partner’s comfort envelope. Without it, how can you ever expect him/her to live out your fantasy of having sex dressed as Rocky and Bullwinkle, while riding a unicycle through an actuarial convention? It just isn’t gonna happen, no matter how you attempt to convince your partner how hot it would be.

So, that’s my list. Sure, there are other things that are nice to have, like your partner being vocal (but don’t blow out my eardrums while my head is next to yours!), but those are the attributes that I’ve found rock my world.

Which begs the question to my readers – what do you find to be world rocking in a partner? I’d enjoy hearing what others find to be complete turn-ons.
Damn That's Hot! - Part Deux
Posted:Jan 4, 2015 11:35 am
Last Updated:Dec 5, 2021 10:1 am

The continuing saga of attributes that I find crank the most heat into a sexual experience.

2 – Be open to new experiences – this is kind of a follow-on to number 1, particularly if you’re a slut in training. The hottest example (those who have read previous posts might remember this one) I can offer is with a lover who I asked, while she had me in her mouth, ‘do you want to touch yourself while you’re sucking my cock?’ She reached back and began to play with her clit and orgasmed almost immediately. Then she asked me if I’d like for her to move so I could have a better view of her touching herself. Yes please! One of the reasons the experience was so hot was that, afterward, she shared that she had never done anything like that for another partner and found the act very exciting. In fact, she yelled at me for exposing her to the variation; ‘Every time I think about doing that to you, I wind up having to pull out my vibrator!’
My point is that the great thing about sex is it’s an experience that evolves the more you do it. Or at least it should! Doing the same thing, the same way, over and over, rarely holds my attention.

3 – Tell me what you want – This is probably the one trait that stands above the others as a turn on, for me. It’s an attribute that is shared by all the women who have rocked my world in the sack. To be sure, I’m not saying I want someone who will guide me through the entire process like a rookie. I think I’ve graduated beyond ‘insert Tab A into Slot . And trust me, I’ll figure out rather quickly how my partner’s wired (i.e. does she respond more to stimulation of her clit or g-spot). What I’m referring to are things that even the more attentive men might miss or not be comfortable initiating. Two examples that remain prominent in my ‘damn, that was hot’ memory happened to occur with the same woman.
The first might seem a bit tame, but it should be taken in context. After our second date, she came back to my place for some high quality making out. I really liked this woman and, surprising as this may sound, I’m somewhat old fashioned during the ‘getting to know you’ phase of what seems to be a genuine romantic relationship. She didn’t strike me as being the kind of girl who would appreciate being pawed on the second date, so I was sticking to the kissing agenda. Turns out she wanted to be pawed and let me know by grabbing my hand and placing it on one of her breasts. I know it sounds silly but I found that to be pretty stimulating. And a good time was had by all.
The other example is quite a bit hotter. I’ll recount the entire evening at some point but the highlight was her telling me, before we finished undressing each other, that watching a guy stroke his hard cock until it exploded turned her on. She asked if I would do that for her and cum all over her tits. This is the perfect example of what I’m talking about. Sure, it was hot…damn it was hot, but that act was not something I would typically suggest to a partner. So, had she not asked, her lovely breasts would have remained unglazed and her fantasy wouldn't have been made into reality.
Damn That's Hot!
Posted:Jan 1, 2015 5:08 pm
Last Updated:Jan 4, 2015 11:37 am

Time to be a little more upbeat and fun, with my blog. Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about lovers who were fantastic in the sack and what made them stand out. Maybe it’s because the last two I’ve experienced left me a bit unsatisfied, for lack of a better word. I know that sounds a bit harsh but perhaps I’ve reached a level of maturity where quality truly does matter more than quantity. Although it makes for fun conversation to brag about racking up numbers, with my married golf buddies, it just doesn’t cut it for me, these days. No, you’re not taking away my man card either. What I’m trying to say is that, from a pure sex perspective, I want my partner to bring something to the party beyond her vagina. I want to have my socks at least jostled, if not rocked, when I get into the sack. Let’s face it, life’s too short to spend a bunch of time playing the game to find out he or she is a dud in bed.

So, what makes a woman good in the sack, to me? (obviously, the following babble will apply only to me but perhaps others will find insight from the points I’ll make) After giving the topic some thought, I’ve come up with the following list (guys love lists!). The best lovers I’ve experienced all have certain traits in common. Some are amazing for different reasons than others. But they all possess two or more of the below attributes in spades, along with a healthy ‘competency’ in most of the remainder.

I realize I’ve, once again, penned an epic post. In the interest of maintaining a manageable post length, I’ll break up the list. Also, I’m only proofreading this at arm’s length so there might be some spelling and grammar catastrophes.

So, in no particular order…

1 – A willingness to be slutty – If you’ve read my previous entry on sluts, you’ll understand where I’m coming from. Some of my most memorable encounters have been with women who allow themselves to embrace their slutty side. They unapologetically need to be fucked and get off in as many ways as possible. I’m not looking for a complete slut, per se, but things like dropping to your knees and taking me in your mouth, while standing on the deck, is always a nice surprise. Tell me to fuck you like a dirty slut from time to time. Beg me to pull out and shoot my hot cum all over your ass, tits, face, or belly. Skip the underwear, occasionally, when we go to dinner; then tell me about it at the restaurant. And let’s face it, what guy (other than the insecure ones) doesn’t get turned on watching a woman bring herself off for him?
1 comment
Part II – She Threw a What???
Posted:Dec 29, 2014 9:07 am
Last Updated:Apr 21, 2020 8:09 am

BPD’ers have a great deal of difficulty controlling their emotions, often ‘losing their shit’ on perceived transgressors, many times to the point of becoming physical. C was unusual, for a Borderline, in that she rarely went ballistic and never got physical. But when she did freak out, it was usually in a context one would least expect.

My favorite example almost invariably blows the minds of everyone who hears it. In fact, even the folks on the BPD support message boards (a community for those living with, or trying to escape, a Borderline) were impressed with this one. It involves cured meats.

We were hosting Easter, and my parents were visiting from out of state, along with my grandmother. The morning of, my mother and I were in the kitchen, both finishing breakfast as well as prepping some sides for Easter dinner. Somewhat out of the blue, C began an argument with me over something I’ve since forgotten. Suffice to say it was something trivial and I defended myself. The argument escalates, as one might expect when it’s over nothing of significance.

And then, it happened. Out of the blue, she threw the ham at me!!! I was accosted by a projectile of porcine smoky goodness!

Needless to say, things got ugly after that. After all, you don’t throw smoked pork at me and get away with it! Nothing physical but there was a ton of screaming and yelling from both of us. My parents were mortified and left (they later told me they never liked my wife).

And here’s the best part of the story. I apologized!!! God, she was an artist. The logic went like this: She had (allegedly) told me the previous night, to try to vacate the kitchen early so she could get the ham prepared. It was because of my mother’s and my loitering, in the kitchen, that she had no choice but to go ape shit and throw meat at me. Yeah, I guess it was my fault you had to throw the ham at me. I’m sorry; I don’t deserve you.

Attempting to project blame is a common theme in most relationships, so nothing new there. Most people try to deflect blame at some point. But she took projection to new levels of artistry. Here are two quick examples of her projection artistry, both relating to her wrecking her cars, which she did regularly.

Once, she slid on ice, during a big snow storm, while approaching a stop light, and hit the guy in front of her who had already stopped for the red light. Whose fault was that? The dude who stopped at the light, of course.

The other one, that was quite inventive, was when she backed into a truck. We had moved into our home a few months earlier and the builder was there to knock out some punch list items. His truck was parked in front of the closed garage door. C had to leave, opened the garage door, and promptly backed into the contractor’s truck. Whose fault was that one? It was mine because she was late and rushing to meet me. If it weren’t for me wanting to treat her to a nice dinner out, she wouldn’t have wrecked the car.

Her refusal to take blame for anything became a source of resentment for me. I wanted her to take ownership for something; anything. I tried to explain that I don’t care if someone makes mistakes; everyone does. But, if you screw the pooch, in your marriage, you take ownership, apologize, and work through it together. Didn’t do a bit of good.

C would often utilize a certain manipulation technique that I later learned was called gaslighting; a common tactic among those with BPD. Gaslighting is a form of manipulation that is considered torture, in some contexts. An excellent description can be found here:


C demonstrated some serious skill at gaslighting. There would be some sort of disagreement between us, followed by her returning (from work or a family ‘meeting’, etc.) with the message that other people with whom she’d discussed the topic with agree with her perspective on the matter. To top it off, invariably, someone she spoke with would allegedly make a disparaging comment about me. Sometimes, there was only a disparaging comment about me; ‘my friends think you’re an asshole’. But the underlying theme was that I was wrong and a piece of shit but C wasn’t the one saying I was a piece of shit. She remained blameless. (I’ll revisit that theme in a later story)

A quick example of her gaslighting: we’d had a non-yelling disagreement over a topic which has been lost to history (which I’m sure I apologized for). The next day, she returned home from work and informed me that she’d spoken with five coworkers about what happened. All five had said they never have arguments with their spouse and one said I had an anger management problem. Pretty powerful stuff, if you trust your partner, which I did at the time.

However, as time went on, she got sloppy (desperate) with her gaslighting and make more and more outrageous claims. I used to joke she would claim her colleagues advocated killing puppies, if that’s what her position was. She would tell me her position was supported by people who she had no way of casually speaking with (i.e. were out of the country, people she had vowed never to speak with again, those she admitted she hadn’t spoken with in years, etc.). In one case, she tried to convince me she’d just discussed ‘whatever’ and gotten support from someone who I knew had passed away a few months earlier. Yep, even those pushing up daisies agreed with her!

To top it off, she was a compulsive (yet talented) liar; a typical trait of those with BPD. I’ve never met someone who had such an aversion for the truth as C. It wasn’t just me she lied to. After we had been married for a few years, each one of her three siblings shared stories of how her compulsive lying had caused a rift between them. Of course, my response was ‘and you couldn’t have told me this before I married her???’ Honestly, I missed most of her lies until later in our relationship or after we separated; she was that good at it.

After we separated, I called her out on the lying, citing various examples where I had concrete evidence (i.e. changing the locks). She admitted she had lied to me quite a bit, over the years, but explained ‘I didn’t feel as though I could be honest with you’. She was afraid I’d go bat shit over the truth. Huh? I asked her whether she felt the same way with – and proceeded to rattle off names of her family and others. I don’t recall the fabrication she came up with and it doesn’t matter.

I have since come to understand that she was attempting to manipulate me into her own storybook version of the perfect marriage. Instead, the only thing she accomplished was to drive me away. But, to be clear, she was incapable of rational thought in many instances. In most cases, a Borderline truly believes their version of events because their brain can’t process the reality that they may be to blame for something. It’s called dissociative behavior and it creates a new reality of a situation that the Borderline mind can accept. There were many occasions where she’d recall a recent situation / conversation / whatever and I’d wonder whether we were discussing the same thing, because I certainly wasn’t part of the event she was describing.

We tried two go ‘rounds of marriage counseling. However, in both cases, I was in the mode of accepting ‘things aren’t working out because I’m a bad husband’. And she certainly wasn’t going to admit to lying and manipulation.

I’m ashamed to say the lying, manipulation, turned me into a bitter, selfish man. I had an affair at the office (she never found out) with another married woman who gave me what C wouldn’t; the feeling that I was a desirable man. Time went on and I made a couple serious efforts to regroup and be the best husband I could be to C. When I asked for some sort of positive feedback on my efforts, she responded with the message that I’d likely go back to being ‘worthless’ soon. So, I truly became a bastard because why bother trying not to be?

I absolutely tried to be the best step-father I could. This was very important to me, as their own father wasn’t in the picture and C was incredibly erratic as a parent. On that, I believe I succeeded but that’s another story.

The ultimate tipping point was my taking a job in Richmond. She agreed to the move and was excited about my promotion. But, she wasn’t being honest with me or herself. As her sister later told me, ‘regardless of what she told you, there was no way C was moving down to VA.’ I’ll spare you the blow by blow but suffice to say that dynamic ripped what was left of the fabric of our marriage apart.

And as the marriage finally disintegrated, I never once heard her tell me she loved me and wanted to save our marriage. Instead, she would berate me about honoring my commitment; or if I was going to abandon her and the .

In all honesty, I didn’t see the lying, manipulation, and emotional abuse for what it was. My motives to end the marriage were purely selfish at the time. I was tired of being told how horrible I was as a husband. I wanted out. I had to get out. My self-esteem was shot to hell and I figured no woman would want a horrible man like me but I didn’t care. I’d rather be alone than continue to listen to my wife bitch about me constantly.

And then it was over. I became an enemy in a heartbeat and she wouldn’t allow me into the house. It had nothing to do with fear of me taking things from the marital home; just that she didn’t want me in ‘her’ home, being the traitor I was. She told me, flat out, that she was going to punish me for not living up to my commitment. She was so petty as to change my contact in her phone to ‘Dickhead’. It should go without saying that she dragged out the divorce as long as she could, milking me for spousal support the whole time. She wanted to keep our house, and belongings, and have me walk away with nothing.

I can’t say I was devastated because I wasn’t. Sure, it hurt like hell that my world was turned on its head overnight. I was in a new city, in a new job, going through a divorce. Stress much? On the flip side, four days after I asked for the divorce, C had signed up on an internet dating site. I found this out later; her was appalled.

Changed the Locks
Funny story about that and the ongoing manipulation theme. She and I were working on a day for me to come up to PA and collect some belongings. She had commitments come up on the day I had free. No problem, I said, I have the key and I’ll get what we agreed to. She then told me that the locks had been changed. I asked why; I hadn’t threatened her in any way, had I? No. And I lived four hours away, so it’s not like I could pop by to serve some ulterior motive. She said her brother-in-law (who I got along with very well) did it because he ‘just thought it would be best’. I said it had to be an expensive proposition, considering what we paid for the custom finish on our door hardware. Yes, but he wanted it taken care of.

I was visiting my parents, during this email exchange (she wouldn’t talk on the phone and I was glad for ‘paper’ confirmations of what she’d agreed to) and it hit me. That common theme: I was being screwed, it was by some other entity, and C was blameless. I said to my parents, ‘the locks weren’t changed, she just doesn’t want me there.’ I tried to get my dad to take a $1k bet that the locks weren’t changed, but he’s a smart guy.

So, the day arrived, and I pulled into my driveway, walked up and rang the doorbell. C opened the door and, after some small talk, I asked about the locks. I told her the finish matched really well to the original equipment. She took the bait and told me all about the process and how she didn’t want to change the locks but her brother in law did it without asking, etc. etc. etc. I let her dig the hole for ten minutes or so, then pulled out my key and said, ‘I guess this is trash and won’t work now.’ I stuck the key in the door, sure enough, it worked. The look on her face was priceless and all she could say was ‘whoops!’ I’ve never seen her so uncollected. She then began berating me about how useless I was and how I betrayed her and the . Broken record…

The Escape
One very important thing to remember about Borderlines is that it’s tough to get away from them. Even though I was the enemy, C continued to reach out to me. These little pings took various forms. She would yank my chain to get a reaction; ‘I’m throwing out you’re X (that I wouldn’t allow you to collect) that you like so much.’ Or, if her new boyfriend went out of town, she’d act like I was her friend again. You see, even though we were divorcing, she was desperately trying to prevent my final abandonment. And that’s the fun gift that keeps on giving with a Borderline. Unless you find a way to make a final break, they’ll keep bouncing back into your life. You must escape, period.

How did I get C to leave me alone? Simple, I shared my assertion she had BPD. The short version is that, once I determined without a doubt, she had BPD, I sent her a letter detailing how her behavior was perfectly in line with someone with BPD. That even her was a textbook example for behavior of a with a BPD parent. I (stupidly) offered to reconcile in order to get her the help she needed. Thankfully, she refused (it was easier to stay with the poor guy who didn’t realize how fucked up she was) and denied she had BPD (as Borderlines do). When she’d try to manipulate me, or exhibit other typical BPD behavior, I’d point it out and tell her I understood it was her BPD driving her. She’d attempt to suck me into an argument by insulting me and I’d respond calmly that I’d be happy to discuss my shortcomings with her and her therapist. Ultimately, she stopped communicating. I’m sure there were two factors involved in her backing away. She was freaked about being identified as having BPD. In fact, she was freaked even more when her own therapist pointed out some unrelated corroborating evidence. Plus, she realized I had become impervious to her manipulation so there was no longer a payoff for the behavior. In fact, it became dangerous to because she kept receiving a stronger message of her illness.

There’s obviously a whole lot more I could share but those are the high points. There are some who might ask how the hell I could be so naïve not to see all the warning signs. Well, as I mentioned above, I’ll throw a beautiful, smart woman in front of you, have her extoll your amazingness to the world, and see how long you last. And, once you’re in, it’s tough to break away because you’ve been convinced you’re not worthy of a good woman. It’s a slow, insidious process. Truly, the nut jobs who have their act polished are incredibly seductive. I wound up dating another girl who made the same noises (she didn’t seem to be a Borderline though) and it wasn’t easy to walk away from, even with the knowledge I’ve gained.

While some may read this and think otherwise, I’m not bitter over what happened. The truth is that C wasn’t in control of her actions and, as a result, I can’t blame her.

Ultimately, what came out of the whole episode? Well, I learned a lot more about myself. When I looked in the mirror, after we separated, I didn’t like what I saw and made a sincere effort to change the things that I didn’t like. For some time after, I overcompensated for missing what I felt I should have caught by ‘chasing shadows’ in other women. OMG, she likes the same type of apple C does; she’s gotta be nuts! But, I’ve settled down and moved on to be what I would like to think is an emotionally healthy state.
They Walk Among Us - Yes, I'm Talking Nut Jobs
Posted:Dec 16, 2014 11:51 am
Last Updated:Oct 21, 2016 3:11 pm

In the time between , in my consulting business, my mind begins to wander, well, all over the damned place. Lately, it’s been drifting toward past relationships and, in particular, my one and only marriage. I’m over the marriage, put it in the past tense, and moved on, blah, blah, blah. But you see my ex has undiagnosed Borderline Personality Disorder. In fact, I’m the only one who truly recognizes her condition, being in the unique position to see her current and past behavior.

For those who aren’t familiar with borderline personality disorder, you can read more here:


But the short version is that those with BPD do everything they can to prevent abandonment. This includes manipulating (i.e. lying, gaslighting) their partners in order to keep them from leaving. Their emotional state is in constant turmoil.

I’ll preface by saying, despite some parts of the story appearing to be, this is not a ‘woe is me’ story. Rather a precautionary tale for those who don’t realize that true nut jobs walk among us and can damage you in ways you’d never believe possible. I certainly didn’t have a clue this was the case, when I met my ex. Hell, I didn’t know what the hell BPD was. Surely, those people would be locked up or labelled or something, right? Anyway, I’ve thrown in some amusing (in retrospect) instances that will likely blow your mind.

What sucks about BPD, is that it’s incredibly difficult to diagnose. In fact, I was dating a therapist who had been married to a BPD’er and didn’t figure it out until after the relationship ended, which is what happened with me. She also shared that when a patient at her practice is suspected of having BPD, they are interviewed by multiple therapists because of how adept they are at manipulation.

My first somewhat humorous story revolves around confirmation of the presence of BPD. I figured things out by good old digging around. I found the DSM and compared to my ex’s behavior; BPD was the landslide winner. It was solidified by research on the effects of of Borderlines, which seemed as though they’d just written a description of my step-. I compared notes with the aforementioned therapist I dated and it was as though we’d been living the same lives. The humor comes into play when I talked to the therapist I’d been seeing during my divorce. I kept throwing supporting information at him but he refused to diagnose C as a Borderline. Not seeing her, ethics, blah, blah. Then, toward the end, I wound up having a rather lengthy email conversation with her where everything she wrote screamed ‘I’m a Borderline’. I showed that to my therapist, who blurted out, ‘Wow, she’s a high functioning Borderline.’ I looked at him and said, ‘gotcha!’

The Courtship
When I met C, she seemed like everything I wanted in a partner. Admittedly, I’d never experienced a true partner in previous relationships so I really had zero clue what I really should be looking for. But C was beautiful, smart, and thought I was the best thing since sliced bread. I was her savior from the other horrible guys she’d dated. And she’d dated a lot of losers, the most extreme example being her second husband who had done time for armed robbery. (Under the heading of ‘some people don’t change’ this would be the same scumbag who I, later, wound up showing the business side of a Glock to convince him he shouldn’t be following ‘our’ to their bus stop.) Truly, these should have been warning signs (not almost shooting her ex; that came later) but I defy most men to have a gorgeous woman praise them as their knight in shining armor and think ‘hmm, something ain’t right here’. It’s just not gonna happen! Hell, most guys are insecure to begin with, so they eat that up like a fat wolfs down cake. I know I did.

The relationship progressed incredibly quickly. On her side, the BPD was forcing her timeline. On mine, I was at an age where I decided it was time to settle down and C was amazing. It was almost as though I said ‘yep, you’ll do nicely’ and that was that.

The Relationship
So, all was right with the world. As time went on, there were little warning signs. I caught her lying to her in order to manipulate them. Hmm…she wouldn’t do that to me though, right? Her treatment of me changed over time as well. In the beginning, I could do no wrong but, seemingly overnight, I developed a dizzying array of character flaws. Every misstep was categorized and thrown on the pile. The general message from her to me was ‘I love you regardless of how useless you are’. Pretty effective at making someone feel really lucky they have such an understanding spouse. As time passed, my self-esteem dropped precipitously.

When there were differences of opinion, with respect to our relationship, I would try to be accommodating. There was a part of me that thought ‘she’s been married twice before so she knows better than me’. Hah! Dumb shit!

In general, every disagreement we had was seemingly my fault. When having a disagreement with a partner, my preference is to sit down, as soon as possible (sometimes one or both parties needs to let the steam vent before they can have a productive discussion) and have a frank and respectful discussion. But she wouldn’t discuss differences of opinion between us, ever. And when I would become agitated at her avoiding the discussion, I would somehow find myself apologizing for yelling at her. To be clear, I raised my voice less than half a dozen times, during my marriage, but apologized for yelling no less than fifteen times.

And she was the master at this type of manipulation.

She was also a black belt of the ‘I told you X’ to cover herself. I thought I was the worst husband in the world for not paying attention to my wife (adding to the shame). This was until I wound up taking notes from our conversations (for reasons too lengthy to get into here). Sure enough, her story (in this case, our relocation from PA to RVA) would change almost daily, yet she’d claim that whatever today’s story was had been her position the whole time.

More manipulative fun in the second installment, coming soon.
Posted:Nov 8, 2014 2:08 pm
Last Updated:Jan 24, 2017 2:51 pm

Alton Brown performed live here in Richmond earlier this week (he's all over the place so check your local listings) and he did the usual trying of various eating establishments while in the area. During his show (he tweeted this too), he mentioned that Proper Pie made the best pumpkin pie he's ever had, bar none, and the coconut cream pie was damned good as well. When someone like AB says something is the best he's ever had, I tend to take note because I'm sure he's had a lot of good pie. And those of us who truly enjoy coconut cream pie recognize there are two kinds; really awesome and utter crap. There's not much in between. And finding the former can be a challenge. I make my own, which is pretty awesome (if I do say so myself), but rarely feel like going through the trouble just for me. Plus, I don't NEED to have a whole pie sitting around the house. Really, it just leads to trouble; and no, I don't have much in the way of willpower when it comes to certain foods.

So, today I trekked to the other side of RVA and made a purchase; okay, a few purchases. As I predicted, there was a line out the door and they had sold out of pumpkin pie. Fortunately, there was coconut cream so I grabbed the last two pieces and made my escape.

Not a big fan of the graham cracker crust but yeah, it's good.

What's your weakness when it comes to difficult to find delicacies?
1 comment
You're a Blogger? Really? How Nice for You
Posted:Oct 31, 2014 7:10 am
Last Updated:Oct 21, 2016 3:11 pm

So called bloggers are an interesting breed, particularly here on Heated Affairs. Despite doing a bit of writing myself (some of it published in various print outlets), I tend to view blogging in a negative light or at least with a bit of suspicion on certain topics.

I was dating a woman for a while, who was a prolific blogger. Her work was engaging and I considered it a bit of a window into her past and present mind. A good chunk of her work was on previous relationships and how she had been emotionally beaten by so many of them. Long story short, we eventually broke up and, sure enough, she ripped out a blog about the topic in short order. What surprised me was how little resemblance there was between her self-serving drivel and what actually happened. Had she broken up with another guy that afternoon as well? Since then, I tend to dismiss a good chunk of ‘I’ve been wronged’ blogs out of hand; right or wrong.

Certainly opinion blogs may be taken at face value whether they’re on target or not.

That said, it’s time for me to launch into my own holier than thou tirade. Regardless of whether the content is absolute horseshit, most bloggers tend to be quite proud of their writing. They convey complete thoughts using complete sentences and know the difference between your and you’re. I’ve lost count of the number of profiles on Heated Affairs that state ‘I’m only here to blog’ but their writing wouldn’t pass a third grade English class. Truly, if you want your content to be taken seriously…

Also, if you’re merely posting pics you found on the internet that you found funny/titillating/interesting, you’re not a blogger. You’re an internet message board.
Women Are Sluts
Posted:Sep 26, 2014 2:03 pm
Last Updated:Sep 26, 2014 2:51 pm

At least the good ones are.

I’ll admit this post will likely ramble a bit, hell, it’s just as likely to be utter garbage. But that’s seemingly par for the course with most blogs; spout massive volumes of erroneous self-serving drivel and pretend it’s important. But I digress. I’ll also preface by stating that the garbage coming from my keyboard is based upon my own experiences and conversations; your mileage may vary. Being a student of human nature (you become quite adept at understanding what makes people tick when you’ve been married to someone with borderline personality disorder), I enjoy the differences in how each partner I’ve been intimate with over the years interacts with me. What used to surprise me, when I was younger, was what I guess could be considered the slut factor, specifically how many women have a higher one than one might guess. Growing up in puritanical middle of nowhere PA, I was raised to believe that slutty women were not desirable for anything beyond a quick fuck. Women who spontaneously flash their boobs to you, touch themselves while on the way home from dinner (or touch themselves for you at all), or blow you in public were considered undesirable. But as I’ve matured, I’ve found that more women have a slutty to them than not. And it’s a beautiful thing! Slutty being a descriptor and not a value judgment term, btw.

As I think of companions I’ve enjoyed over the years, I begin to think like a guy and want to categorize them. While the slut factor is obviously a sliding scale with no absolutes, in my experience, women tend to fall into four different buckets. A bit of clarification first. The observations I’ve made were in the context of ‘traditional relationships’ with women who were potential long term relationships. All bets are off with one night stands and random hookups, which completely change the dynamics below.

The first two are the easy ones. There’s the uninhibited slut. She enjoys being dirty, regardless of the partner(s), setting, or law enforcement present. She thrives on being nasty and it gets her off. She doesn’t care who knows she’s a dirty girl and it may even excite her further the more people who do know.

On the other end of the spectrum is the non-slut. Regardless of how ravenous or nonexistent her sex drive, she wants a traditional and vanilla fucking. Fuck her, go down on her, she might blow you, and that’s it. Don’t even think of tying her up because she isn’t into it. (I’ll explain why later.) I’ve experienced a few of these women but I usually don’t maintain any sort of ongoing sexual relationship with them.

The middle groupings tends to get a bit squishier; call the first closet sluts. These are women who love being slutty, but want to keep it under cover. She’s tried it all and knows what she likes. The code word to unlock the fun for her is trust. Her sluttiness (which spell check hasn’t recognized yet) is solid but tends to only come out when she’s confident there won’t be negative consequences as a result. She needs to know her partner won’t recoil when she unzips his pants in a parking lot or screams like a banshee when she orgasms. ‘Is he going to freak out when I ask him to tie me up and spank me?’ Once that trust is established, she goes from zero to delicious dirty girl in a heartbeat. In all honesty, I haven’t run into too many women who fall into this group.

Most women I’ve encountered fall into the category I refer to as the slut in training. Those that live in this realm have some experience being slutty but they still have plenty of exploring to do. They would enjoy being sluttier but aren’t always sure how to go about it. They are a bit more self-conscious about pushing boundaries with their partners and will require the right kind of motivation to expand boundaries. Hell, even at 40, I’ve run across women who are afraid to let me go down on them. Anyway, this woman can be a willing pupil but requires guidance and the proper encouragement to reach slutty perfection. In short, sluts in training love sex and are open to trying most things to enhance the experience, but the road to (greater) depravity for them is more of a boulevard than an autobahn. Trust is even more important to sluts in training than closet sluts.

I love hearing a woman tell me ‘I want to be your dirty little slut.’ And that’s the thing, most closet sluts and sluts in training want to be your slut and your slut only. When they want to push boundaries, they want you to take charge and shove them on their knees to suck you, to spank them and pull their hair while you take them from behind, to find a quiet place in the park where you can pull their skirt up and fuck them knowing you might get caught. They want to fantasize about being fucked by multiple guys but they only want you inside them. I’ll circle back to that dynamic in a moment.

But don’t try to lead with ‘I want you to be my slut’. Most women, who want to be sluts, want you to ‘prove yourself’ first. Even closet sluts, in the context of a relationship, may want you to make your first time together somewhat special.

That leads to the question of what drives many women to enjoy being sluts for their partners.

Women have come a long way in terms of respect in society and the workplace. They’ve worked their asses off to gain parity with men and have no time or respect for those who blatantly and consistently view women as subservient second class humans. They spend most of their waking hours having to work so hard (harder than men, in most cases) to maintain their standing and keep it together that they may begin to doubt their own femininity. They rightfully demand a partner who will value them as an equal and afford them the respect they deserve. Yet, they still want to feel like a hot and desirable woman. Inside, there is a part of them that wants to be objectified and controlled; they want their trusted partner to ‘stake their claim’ and take ownership. But only with a partner they trust (or one night stand). I’ve had more than one successful woman share this sentiment with me.

One told me, almost verbatim, ‘I spend all day running my business, maintaining a household, making decisions, being a good mother, and all that other garbage. So, in bed, I want my guy to take charge, spank my ass, pull my hair, and make me his fuck toy. I want to feel like a woman.’

Insert applicable commentary on traditional roles between the sexes as you see fit.

While most of the above isn’t necessarily new, I’ll throw out an observation that may incite some controversy. It’s a corollary of the above and it’s that intelligent women with high self-esteem make the best sluts. If a woman is secure in herself, knows she’s respected by her partner, peers, etc. it makes her more comfortable stepping out of that persona, into being a fuck toy. She has no fear that she’ll be stuck in that role, knowing she can easily slip back into her ‘confident side’. ‘Spank me, manhandle me, use me like your in bed because I know, once we’re done, you’ll respect me for the confident woman I am.’ She’s more willing to take the risks that might be involved in enhancing her sexual experience.

Conversely, women who are less secure might be more concerned about being respected regardless of the context. They have difficulty divorcing being a fuck toy in bed from being seen in the same light elsewhere. They are less likely to be able to ‘let go’ because, again, they don’t want to universally be perceived as someone who doesn’t deserve respect.

My own experiences support the above, time and time again. The women who are confident and almost domineering with their clothes on are the ones who most want to be treated like a dirty (quoting a few women with that, btw) in the bedroom. In fact, the more confident a woman is, the more dirty and submissive she’ll be; again, based upon my own experiences. It’s always been the really confident women I’ve heard screaming ‘I’m a dirty little ’ for me. Conversely, I’ve dated women who were the poster for insecurity and I couldn’t even hint at trying something they considered degrading in the sack. Obviously, there are exceptions to every rule but I’m talking trends here.

There does come a point where a woman’s self-esteem drops low enough that she becomes more open to being a slut for you. That one’s pretty obvious; she wants you to not reject her so she’s willing to push boundaries to maintain your approval. Again, exceptions, rules, etc. Then again, I’m not claiming anything I’ve written resembles anything so constrictive as a rule. As noted, these are trends based upon my own observations.

You’re sitting there saying to yourself, I’ve been with a few confident women and they weren’t slutty at all; what’s up with that? The most common reason I’ve heard from women as to why they aren’t sluttier is because so many men are insecure. There are a couple of dynamics at play here. First, there’s the ‘why does she need me around?’ factor. This one comes out when a woman pulls out some toys or brings herself off while with her partner. Side note of irony as these behaviors are turn on’s for guys; until they happen. One told me about having to stroke the ego of a previous boyfriend after he freaked out when she pulled out her favorite toy and it was bigger than he was. ‘That thing gets her off so why does she need me around?’ That’s how some guys think, unfortunately. The other factor that brings out men’s insecurity is their partner’s ‘dirty past’. They want their girlfriend / wife to be a dirty for them. But if the gf/wife suggests dirty things that turn them on, they risk their partner going into the mode of ‘damn, she must be a real to find out that turns her on.’ Followed by ‘someone taught her that thing that I’ve never thought of so why would she want to be with me?’ So many guys still secretly harbor the ‘I want to be the first’ feelings toward women that they have serious issues when confronted with evidence to the contrary. ‘Just how did she learn she liked to be DP’d? What a !’

My ideal partner has to be the slut in training. This has nothing to do with insecurity and not wanting a woman who’s experienced more than me. What it does have to do with is how much I enjoy exploration and, if I’m honest, my competitive streak. Very little gives me as much satisfaction, in the sack, than helping a partner discover something new that completely trips her trigger. Hearing ‘oh my God, I never thought I’d like that’ is an amazing feeling! Okay, maybe there’s some insecurity there and likely other pettiness too, knowing she’ll pull out a trick I taught her with her next partner and having him wonder how she learned she liked it.

Probably my favorite experience of helping my partner discover new things was with a girl I dated a few years ago. We had just started dating; in fact, I think it was the second time we slept together when this happened. She had me in my mouth and I asked her if she wanted to touch herself while she sucked my cock. She hesitated for a moment then her hand went between her legs. This girl was a complete g-spot girl but she started cumming almost immediately from her touching her clit. After a few moments, she looked up and asked if she should move so I could see her fingering her clit better. Uh, yep! She just kept cumming over and over, moaning and choking on my cock. Yeah, it was hot. What amazed me was how afterward, she gushed (literally and figuratively) over how hot doing that made her. That she wouldn’t have thought much of it since she never got off that way. After that, any time she performed oral on me, her fingers went right for her clit. Again, I relished hearing her discovering new ways to enjoy herself, even into her late 30’s. She told me the new trick turned her on so much that she’d have to pull out her toy every time she thought about it. BTW, she was one of the girls who claimed to be a complete closet slut. I taught her a few more new things but that’s another story.

One final thought. Don’t for a second think that a true blue slut will automatically be good in the sack. More on that later.

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