May 25th 2013, I Got Married.

Well, on May 25th I got married. I'm deeply in love, happy, and all around moved by the occasion, but I do feel a bit like I'm standing in front of a dark window trying to see out. The skepticism about love and relationships I've cultivated all my life in order to be a practical and realistic adult some day, (an absurd notion, I know) has me trained to feel that a marriage between two people so young is bound to.. deflate. I sort of doubt my husband and I know each other half as well as we've even come to know ourselves, which is probably not at all. Are we even people yet in our twenties? There's no question we both have a lot of growing to do, and it seems reasonable that we will outgrow one another. 

I think a lot of people expect their wedding to be one of the "happiest days of their life" and plan on it to such an extant that all the expectation washes over the love and sincerity of the occasion and all they get are a bunch of plates covered in cake crumbs and scads of posed photographs. (Not to mention a huge wedding tab.) It's interesting: A and I had such little expectation, and such a small ceremony, I think both of us were surprised by how happy we were. Several times since then I've thought it was one of the happiest days of my life. Who knew?

Here in France they say, "marriage pleveuse, marriage heureuse." A rainy marriage is a happy marriage. Well, on the day we got hitched, it rained, hailed, thundered, and blue sky and perfect sunshine appeared sporadically throughout. It was bizarre. Does anyone know the appropriate proverb? As everyone keeps telling me- everybody goes into this sort of thing the same way: knowing nothing, but hoping for the best. In other words, while we have a lot of growing to do, I may as well count on us growing into our relationship, rather than us growing out of it. 

 

..and, yes, before anyone blows a gasket, there will be photos and details to follow

Pussy Party Aftermath

Well, I went to the party. -And I was really hoping that it would be either A) good, or B), bad in a funny way so that I could write a sarcastic post about it. ..But it wasn't really either of these things. 

Honestly I'm really conflicted about it so I'm not sure how to even proceed describing it. I'm unsure if I'm old, boring, anti-social, and irrational, or if the party was just wildly too childish for me. Or maybe I'm just not a party person. Who knows, but when TMI asked me in the aftermath , 'god, didn't you think Chantal was funny?" -Chantal being a guy dressed as a gogo dancer with big blow up plastic boobs and a gold thong, who, once the party moved to a bar, got on stage to "perform" with the band,) I felt dismayed to think that I instead found it rather gross and completely juvenile. ,,Maybe I would have found it funny under different circumstance?? I dunno!

I'm ashamed to say it but I cried sporadically through the night and the next day. We missed our train home Sunday and had to sleep with a friend and come back Monday morning. I'm totally screwed up about it. I don't know if I'm the victim or the bad guy for not having fun. I don't know if I love my boyfriend or if he's just intensely handsome and I think that I need him to love me. 

Do I need a break up? Therapy? Anti-depressants? A chill pill and  just to learn how to party?

Either way I'm on the couch tonight :/

The Heart is an Idiot but it Always Wins

Friday night, and they day before my brother’s wedding. I remember calculating at the age of like, 8, that possibly by the time I was 16 he could be getting married. I couldn’t wait for the wedding and hoped ardently that I would be right. It kind of adds an interesting aire of nostalgia that tonight, at 24, I am where I am and feeling the way I do hours before the event. -Also that I’ve still, to this day, never been to a wedding.

I’m going back to France on Monday, and I know that in spite of my love for the country, it’s not exactly the responsible or wise thing to be doing. With my current education, (an undergrad in art history and one year into my MA in art admin with a flawless GPA) I could move to San Francisco, Portland, or any US city of my choice and find well paying gallery positions that I am more than qualified to take. Would this make me happy? Yes. Would this be a wise move for my future career? Definitely. Would I undoubtedly meet scads of entertaining people and assuredly fall in love again? My heart squeaks a little here but my brain answers “of course.”

So what this boils down to is that I’m being an idiot. I love France and yes, I’m in love with someone in France. But neither he or the country are particularly likely to become home or family, so nesting there and biding my time just in case one or the other should become a reality is romantic, but probably 100% retarded.

What am I doing and how many people are wondering when I'm going to snap out of it? 

Exclusivity Before Commitment

I thought girl talk was supposed to clarify, sort through, and expand on man issues. In France I've missed out on this kind of banter for the past 2 years, and now I can say, returning from an evening of presque non-stop man/dating/interpreting of hidden messages chatter, I have never been more confused. 

Tonight I was told that the "girlfriend/boyfriend" thing works for guys, because they can date a woman for years and never consider marrying her, but it doesn't work for women. Women apparently don't have monogamous sexual relationships without attachment and a goal of commitment. The open-ended intimacy doesn't work with us. So! What is the solution according to my gal pals? No committed relationships until marriage: in other words, no exclusivity until someone is willing to offer commitment in exchange. 

Apparently it's ok to stop having sex with other people, but dating should remain open until the one "steps up" (I prefer sacks up) and is ready to give you commitment in exchange for  your fidelity and exclusivity. (Which, as the theory goes, would work since women can't give that without getting attached.)

This tends to go against my current belief system which tells me good love and good relationships come from monogamy and intimacy, so go for it, but my attached and insecure side wonders if I'm doing it all wrong.  

Is it ok to give it all? Or are we giving it all to soon? 

The $1000 Chip

I'm seemingly going through a dark place. In the day I can't remember what our intimacy was like or if it even existed. Sometimes I get a little flashback in my dreams, and wake up elated, but as I rub the sleep out of my eyes it's overcome by this ache in my stomach. Kind of a fear and misery with no real base, just a persistent and defiant continuity. 

Now, even if he tells me he loves me and wants to keep me, the words can't penetrate me. I wan't them to, terribly; I want to feel that and be confident of it, but the fear and discomfort has built up such an immense and resilient endoskeleton of distrust that my pining, delicate entrailles can't be reached or soothed by words.

On top of this, the IUD is upon me any day now, and the internet has terrified me with stories of uncomfortable sex, spotting, and worst of all, the discovery that my dad's first wife had one, got an infection, and was left sterile in the aftermath.

This anxiety for the new presence in my most delicate and intimate areas plus the fear for my relationship has left me awake and weeping several consecutive nights now.

I know love is a gamble. A leap, a courageous and sometimes risky investment. You've got to take that part of you that you've worked on all your life, the most sensitive, delicate, and passionate chunk of you and place it on the table. The $1000 chip we've spent our lives creating in the hopes that we'll win big. History tells us that the stakes are against us and, in all likelihood, that precious chunk of yourself you've given to someone else is gonna get swept away. 

When so much is on the table, how do we conquer the fear, and enjoy the game?

Fonder or Forgetful?

No one makes me happy like he does. Or so miserable, arguably. If some younger girl asked you "what is love like?" Would you be the French actress from Coco Before Channel and say "ça fait mal," or the mother from that cheesy Casa Nova movie and say "It's like good weather every day, even when it's not."

How can something eventually develop to this level of value and preciousness in your life with not also brining with it a stinging fear of losing it? The Dali Lama said in some pocket size gift book somewhere: 

On a plane ride I had the pleasure of tasting a particularly delicious and special chocolate. It was the most wonderful and luxurious sweet I had ever tasted, and I will not forget the pleasure of eating it. However, should I never have the opportunity to taste it again, I will remain content; having had the good fortune of tasting it the one time. 

Doctor Seuss actually said the same thing with "don't be sad that it's over, be glad that it happened."

All this wisdom and I still don't see how anyone can go on blithely with so much to lose.

My beloved went back to France two weeks ago after 5 with me and my family here in Hawaii. We could have had better weather and he seemed to have been allergic to my parent's house, but all in all things went well and I relished having him home, in my arms on sandy beaches and in my bed in the cold mountain nights. I'm not going back until October, staying in the islands for my brother's wedding. Two months of wondering how much time and distance a relationship can take. Any advice on staying happy in long distance situations? Is the hen in Robbin Hood right when she says "Absence makes the heart grow fonder!" -or Maid Marian when she says forlornly out the window, "or forgetful!" 

Couch Surfing

OK so... I don't wanna go on about this since I promised everyone I was actually ok with it, but I can't resist. Yesterday I caught a train to Perpignan to spend some time with TMI, he's down here doing an internship. The train ride was at first a disatser, but then ending with me drinking too much wine with the train staff; so that will be the next post. 

Today, my first day with TMI in a week, an old friend of his tagged along and spent the day with us. It was nice, but I was looking forward to having my boyfriend to myself and getting cozy with him at night, since I havent been able to so in a long while... well, the friend drank too much this evening, so he had to stay with us. -And I'm on the couch, and he is at this very moment in bed with my boyfriend.

...

.....

WHEN AND WHY WOULD THIS EVER HAPPEN?

sigh, like I said I won't go on about it. But there it is. 

bonne nuit :/

What is it With Guys and Porn?

The great mystery of modern relationships.

I, beknownst to those of you who know me or read my blog, am a borderline sex addict. (Namely in my current relationship, as I find my partner irresistible, delicious, and I'm in love with him.) Contrary to common relationships, I, the female, am the one regularly complaining that I want more sex. For the record, I'm cute, in shape, always 100% ready and rearing to go, and yet lately I feel I must always initiate and sometimes even ask for sex. All this, and here I discover he's watching porn while I take a shower.

Can someone explain this to me please? I doubt there is really a man in existence who ceases to watch the stuff while he's in a relationship, granted; but why? Especially when he may have a spunky lover like myself? And, if such is the unavoidable case, how do I manage to live with it and not take it personally??

Mom Says, "it's Usually the Woman Who Sacrifices"

It occurred to be while standing on the landing to my building, fumbling for my keys in desperation to get off the noisy, smoke filled sidewalk, just how much I'm willing to give up. TMI is coming home this evening with the news that he has agreed to take an internship here in France instead of on the West coast, as we had initially planned.

Several days ago and after months of trying, we recieved a postive email from a Napa Valley vineyard that wants TMI for his required dates. I should be celebrating, but, in this last week before TMI's deadline to secure an internship, he's suddenly deciding maybe he doesn't want to go for it. In a case of cold feet, fear of the unknown, and allure of the safe and secure, he's this very afternoon meeting with a wine maker in Beaune to discuss his internship.

I'm poised to stay with him. And, in doing so, giving up another year with my family, missing my brother's wedding, (mere months after I missed the birth of my nephew,) an opportunity to work, my friends, and my plans. More commonly called "everything."

Everything, and I am on the thresh hold of giving it for the man I love. -Which of course makes even the tiniest chance that he may not be the one a very real and very frightening danger, in light of the sacrifices.

Maybe it is always the woman's job to wait and to follow. -And, for the record, I would never ask TMI to do his internship on the West coast if I didn't believe it would effect his career for the better. Is it just my lot in life to go where he goes? And, if so, is the love going to be big enough a pay off? He does mean everything to me. But is right for me to give him everything?

Back in July I was apparently a much tougher cookie. I'd do well to listen to my own advice.

Sex and the Self

It's the beginning of week two back in France and I have been utterly awash with schoolwork as my first term of online graduate studies body-slams me into commencement. Still, I'm thrilled to be back with my much missed mate and safely installed in our rustic French attic.

Yesterday, however, in one of my episodes of insecurity, which come and go like stingy-pissy jelly fish on the tides, I got to thinking about sex. (Big news,I know.) And how much my addiction to it is pleasure based, and how much of it is nested in self validation. I'm comfortable with saying 80% of it is the healthier former, but I do catch myself in sexual encounters where my own enjoyment is totally shelved in place of the enjoyment of my partner. Sometimes forcibly out of the picture.

I'm inclined to think this isn't just me and may be part of the young feminine condition. ..Or maybe just me. At times my need for sex comes with a strong need for affirmation; that I am attractive and loved. I imagine this is going to go away with maturity but for now it has me puzzled. Do men ever find themselves in similar situations? Why or why not? And, if I'm not alone on this, why do some of us need sex to validate the self?

What's it Worth?

I'm sitting and sniveling in my best girl-friend's bed in San Francisco, preparing for my 11 hour flight back to France. I am sick, true to form: I manage to be heroically resilient against cold and flu until a flight shows up within the 24 hour range. -Then I'm seemingly set upon by throat-seizing microbes. I was sick on the way over and it looks like I'll be sick on the way back.

But this isn't what I want to complain out. I want to complain that I'm on the verge of devastated because this week is the last week my significant other has to find and secure a vineyard on the West coast for his 6 month internship arriving this summer. If he doesn't manage, he'll have to get one in France. Meaning, if I want to stay with him, I may have to move to a smaller town, miss my brother's wedding and Christmas with the family yet again to lead a moderately lonely life abroad. -Especially if I only get to see my guy on weekends.

Naturally, I'm apprehensive about staying by his side. Yes, I love France, but I'll have to fight the visa battle again and endure our shared social life which honestly, makes me cringe. I don't really enjoy his wine student contemporaries and facing another 6 months of choosing between late nights with them or staying home lonely depresses me.

But I love him. Do I somehow go home and enjoy the 4 months we have together, then when the internship starts, pack up with a straight face and leave? Go to the states, or Hawaii with my family, and plot out a new future without him? Or do I figure love is worth everything, which I'm beginning to think it is, and stay?

p.s: if you haven't all ready, please remember to Fight for the Phoque, and send a message to the Canadian prime minister.

You Say Tomato and I Say Tomahto, lets call the whole thing off

He finished it in a day. HE devoured it. And here I am trudging through it critically like moving through a mud pit in a wedding gown. Can we love each other but not love the same things? How eager we are to say “you're the one,” "you are my other half,” and “we are made for each other,” but if humans have learned anything from the drunken state of love isn’t it that it is completely lacking in any kind of verisimilitude? Ruled by a blinding and overwhelming human desire to be needed; to be loved? So much so in fact, that anyone, (anyone suitably attractive and willing to feed you an “I love you” on a regular basis can be transformed under your rosy outlook into a soul mate? Into “the one?” I remember personally being completely convinced that someone absolutely inside-and-out-wrong for me was exactly what I wanted in a mate. -Until I was somehow and thankfully shaken out of it.

My past experiences have left me tirelessly suspicious of love. Yes: for the past 9 months I have been engulfed in complete mutual obsession. Wild jealousy, monumental sexual passion, and such sincere joy and elation just from the presence, touch, and intimacy with another person that I can’t POSSIBLY expect to be thinking straight. Is liking the same authors important? Is just liking literature enough? The same music? Food? Fashion? Social lifestyle?? What are the essentials and what are the trivials that tell a person if they’ve found the one or if they just want to believe that they’ve found the one?

Every day I tell myself (and we tell each other) that we’re made for one another. That we want to be together for the rest of our lives. My expectations are thus enormous and being let down in even the smallest way stings like a fresh cut and makes me want to cry; call the whole thing off.

Do our likes and dislikes delineate the success of our relationship?

Pearlin' It

So yes, I'm still hunting accessories for the wine gala like a maniac and I'm as viciously indecisive as ever. What do you guys think of this Audrey Hepburn inspired Necklace from Lovett & Co?

Since I'll be a little underdressed in my Free People number, I want to make up for it wherever I can, so I'm going with bold statement jewelry. What's the word?

The Ink Well (and everything to do with forever)

Nothing good lasts forever, or, so they say. For this reason, love is sometimes described as a flower which blooms, wilts, and, if you're going to get really poetic about it and you happen to be a believer in lasting love, you may also allude to the ability to press them and keep them long after they've died.

What I was thinking today, however, is that maybe the myth of eternal love is more like an ink pen. In the beginning you have to give it a push by dragging it around to get it going, then suddenly you have a nice, satisfying black flow that can carry you along silky smooth for months; maybe longer if you're lucky. But, in the end, it doesn't matter how much you "work at it" or promise pen fidelity, because when the line starts getting dry, you can bet your buttons you'll be reaching for the newer model and the one in your hand has its days numbered.

These stubbornly pessimistic thoughts have a habit of ruining otherwise perfectly good evenings with TMI. We've been discussing efforts to get me back to France after Christmas in Hawaii and getting an apartment together. ..An incredibly elating thought, and yet the sacrifice would be my friends and my family. Placing myself scquarely opposite on the globe from my nearest and dearest which have nothing to to with sex or ink and everything to do with forever.

But, on the other hand, friends fall in love and become less available as their significant other becomes more significant. The temptation to remain forever single could leave me lonely surrounded by friends in love.

I know the obvious solution simile: if you really like the pen, you can buy more ink. But what's the real life equivalent of the inkwell? Could something so idealistic possibly exist? And for something so uncertain, how can I ever really know if it's worth the sacrifice?

When is it Right?

In light of the good-and-understanding-person critera: no body is perfect, relationships require compromise, and beauty is only skin deep; how do we ever really know when it's right?

After doing some very disappointing google searches for "am I in love" or "should I commit" or "is he the one" and turning up a horrific explosion of illiterate and predictable myspace quizzes created for hormonal preteens recovering from their first kiss tremors, I decided someone needed to put their foot down and look at this practically.

What really makes a relationship the right relationship? When is it safe to spill the L-word; to move in together; to start talking about children and stoping in front of jeweler windows to admire diamonds? Is there a criteria? And, given the different experiences people may or may not have, does it change from person to person? I got a little carried away and started asking around. "What are the 4 qualities of a perfect relationship?" Here's what I've uncovered:

guy # 1: 24, Paris, FR

laughs, the ability to compromise, variation, and peace

lady # 4: 60, HI, US

mutual love, respect, understanding, and shared interests

guy # 2: 27, Paris, FR

trust, understanding, discovery, and beautiful sex

lady # 2: 23, OR, US

commitment, stability, passion, and adventure

guy # 3: 25, HI, US

forgiveness, sex, humor, sympathy/apathy

lady # 3: 22, AK, US

communication, great sex, support, appreciation

lady # 1: 23, Dijon, FR

passion, compatibility, communication and ambition

Who woulda-thunk that with all the struggling and angst and worry that can be cultivated between two people that the desirable qualities of a relationship (at least in my small sample pool) are so simple and universal? Shared interests, communication and humor = Compatibility, passion = Sex, and variation, discovery, adventure and ambition all fall into a seated desire to avoid the monotonous = Innovation.

Is it safe to say that if we have these three we're doing it right? -And if we're missing one or all it's time to hit the road? Can two relationships be completely different and still good for unique reasons?

In a culture where we're taught to compromise and accept what's wrong, how do we know when it's right?

Lasting Things

Several years ago, I adopted a kitten. I was living alone and going to university on the West Coast. The first week, I was unaccustomed to the furry purry in my bed and started to lock her out of my bedroom in the night. Each morning, she would wake me up early crying piteously at the door. I would shout "NO!" and refuse to let her in, leaving her mewing for hours. She was a little kitten and all alone.

Even though there have been things in my life that have made me cry, or shudder with fear, or rock with laughter, or even scratch my own chest in despair: surely I've wronged people, missed opportunities, lost things, broken things, or cared immensely for things I couldn't have, keeping a kitten locked out of my bedroom is, today, the heaviest weight I bear on my heart. Now, years later, I continue to kick myself and wish I could go back in time and just open the door.

Why is it the little things that come creeping back, years later to wring our hearts with importance, as we steadfastly leave behind the people and events that at one time or another meant the world?

Can Lovers Love it Rough?

When it comes to sex, there are few who can honestly ignore the undeniable hotness of getting roughed up a bit. Several days ago, in a conversation with one of my closest and best loved ladies, the two of us got to talking about a mutual appreciation for getting a little aggressive in the bedroom. TMI and I, though the sex has always been passionate, spontaneous, and.. high energy, have recently started pushing into the realm of throwing one another down on the mattress, bra ripping, and hair pulling; and, hands down, its been fantastic.

But I can't help but wonder: before sentiments start to sneak into the relationship, a lack of restraint during sex is usually nothing to bat an eyelash at. But once "I love you"s get into the mix I for one start to feel a little conflicted. I want to be frisky, but I also want a relationship based on mutual respect. Is this possible if we allow ourselves to be objectified in the bedroom? Is it dangerous to talk dirty and get rough if you're attempting to build a heathy partnership? Should lovers stick to calling it "making love" or can we cut loose and yell "fuck me!" once in a while?

Disappointingly, previous relationships of mine never dared breach the boundaries of slipping anything less than pious language during sex. Everything had a safe and cutesy nickname and we didn't do anything that could ever feasibly be more "sex" than it was "love making."

What I'm happily discovering, however, is that going over the edge has only strengthened my relationship. Knowing that we love each other makes getting crazy feel safe. Where I might have risked feeling a little victimized with more casual encounters, placing myself in compromising situations with TMI feels exactly like it should: daring, indulgent, and impossibly sexy. ..And I STRONGLY recommend it.

Giving and Getting: Reciprocity and the BJ

Allow me to get a little down and dirty here. Last night, while suffering through what a large majority of wives, girlfriends and adventurous dates must suffer through in every sexual relationship, I had some disheartening feelings. Blow Jobs. Yes, your partner loves them. Yes, if you're lucky, you may even love your partner, in which case "taking one for the team" isn't so bad: their feeling good makes you feel good, right?

But, last night, after pushing myself through several gags and enduring the very unpleasant taste, complete with encouraging groans of enthusiasm and a loving smile, I started to feel like I was giving a little more than I was getting.

I've heard it said that the only point of doing it is reciprocation, and I partially agree with this, but, as one of the majority of the world's women who find orgasm during sex very elusive, I can't help but start to feel I'm getting the short end of the stick. And I most certainly mean that figuratively.

Don't get me wrong, my current relationship is easily dishing out the best sex I've ever had; and where I'm not having orgasms from actual intercourse or even oral sex, we have been managing to fit them in regularly and TMI is very considerate to my sexual well-being. But still: dang! Giving a blow-job, well, blows! Dealing with teeth placement, jaw stress, gag reflex, all the while moaning while breathing through your nose and bobbing up and down, honestly, "they don't call it a job for nothing!" I have to wonder: Would a man ever suffer to such an extant for their partner's sexual pleasure?

What's the verdict on this? Always worth it? Enjoyable? A fair trade? Or are women just in the habit of giving too much? In fact, forget about BJ's; what I'm talking about here is something more than that. Zorba, my favorite Greek to quote, wags his big gnarled finger and insists, "Never forget boss! A woman gets more out of the pleasure she gives than the pleasure she takes!"

Romance: Life vs Literature

While many of us have learned that romance REQUIRES conflict, (you can't have a love story without problems: forbidden liasons, misunderstandings, danger, separation, etc.) the majority of us stubbornly cling to the hope that there is a kind of love that transcends this fantasy. We do our best to believe in a real, practical love of the adult world that keeps on sizzling even though it’s without problems. Stories need conflicts, real life relationships need stability. The perfect man is single; your families aren’t feuding; you aren’t dangerously younger and he isn’t a priest; yet magically, with the right person, your heart flutters and the two of you share hollywood kisses, perfect sex, and a lasting relationship. ..right?

As I’m writing this I can’t help but smile at how increasingly unlikely it sounds. As I’ve said before I’ve experienced a sincerely good kind of love, the kind that I’m shooting for in future relationships, twice in my life. Both instances started out with platonic friendships which slowly grew into honest admiration, and, eventually, a delicious elation that comes from a heart FULL of an irristable drug that pumps your veins with a hit of blissful exhiliration with every beat. Wow!

BUT. There's a catch. I’ve been pushing it aside as an unimportant detail, since I’m so persuaded that the above feeling had nothing to do with it, but for the sake of discussion here it is: in both cases neither man was single. Hmmmmmmmmm..

The more recent was Harry, and the more dangerous was a forbidden professor. Last year, while in a committed relationship of my own, I fell and fell HARD for a man 20 years my senior, happily married, and professionally off limits.. but, he made me laugh. The affair escalated to passionate Thorn Birds style make outs on office desks with lights turned out and shades drawn. Fortunately the whole thing was extinugished when I left the country for my future in France, but to this day I think of him often and in the highest esteem as one of the only men I’ve ever truly loved.

Do calm seas a happy relationship make? Can we really find that kind of love that makes us “ooh” and “aah” without any bumps in the road? Let's be honest: love in the "real world," can we ditch the fiction and still keep the romance?

The Loving Lead On

After a weekend in bed which could feasibly be called a hostage situation, I find myself in two states of mind: in a sexually explorative haven, and in a frustrated envelope of "The Lame Side of Love." When we're cuddled up, locked in one another's arms, or staring into one another's eyes (which I'm almost CERTAIN is a challenge to get the other person to say it) the words "I love you" are running through my mind like news stories under a television reporter. But despite this impulse I know, now, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I absolutely am not falling in love. And, as I seem weather beaten and armored enough to recognize that I'm merely growing attached to his affection, I'm confident that I won't fall into the delusion that it's him I love; he feels wrong for me. The result is feeling a little guilty, a little depressed, and wondering why I can't seem to end up with the real thing.

I haven't talked to him since he left, but when ever I'm considering spilling the three words, I remember Harry, and I know that it would be wrong.

On the positive side, (debatable if you share my mother's opinion) the days spent in bed submerged in constant arousal, hours of foreplay, and French spoken lustily in TMI's rewardingly delicious voice, were wonderful. For instance, after being locked all morning in a passionate hugging/squeezing each-other-until-breathless marathon, (seriously,) TMI said "show me your tongue." A little shy at first, but coerced by his long sensual fingers at my lips, I did. TMI stared and breathed "ho la la..." as he pushed the two fingers into my mouth. Extrêmement agréable.

Later however, in a rare moment of privacy when he had gotten up to jump in the shower, I wrote mom about the insatiable sex drive of my partner. She wrote back "careful, he sounds a bit obsessive." Then referring to one of her best girlfriends in the 55-60 box, said "Lilly's husband is a sex maniac and she HATES it!" I laughed aloud.

All these good and bad feelings together got me thinking about the label "leading" someone on. Or, as it is often morphed to beyond high-school to sound a little less juvenile, "stringing" someone along. What exactly is that? Am I doing it if I can almost certainly say I will not fall in love with TMI? If I were a good person would I say so and stop seeing him? And honestly, when having great sex and growing attached to someone, does ANYONE really have the strength of conviction to do so?