It looks like Thigh High Thursday will be the first feature to make a comeback on my blog! I hope to get all those great features you guys enjoy back up, but going step by step right now, and this Thursday you’ll see the first one!
Thanks for those who voted. I’m hoping I’ll see more and more engagement here as I get everything rolling again.
As always, feel free to leave a comment or share an idea with me!
I heard the other that an organization in Hollywood is asking producers to change how they conduct auditions with actresses, obviously a direct result of the #metoo campaign.
Without question, the dynamics of how we relate to each other on a sexual level has been changed by the #metoo movement.
I don’t necessarily mean “sexual” as in “sex” … but it has certainly changed the relationship between men and women. There’s a great deal more caution in the workplace, and I’ve noticed a lot of conversations have become more guarded than they ever were. The flirtations have vanished; the innuendo, squashed …
It’s somewhat disappointing on a personal level. On here, or in my real life, I’ve never made it a secret that I enjoy flirting. I enjoy the mating dance between the sexes, and I enjoy the notion that someone may find me sexually attractive. I’ve said it before; those little nuances – the glances, the winks, the smiles, the attention – provide me with a sense of validation as a woman. Yes, love me for my brain … but don’t stifle the lust you might harbour for my company and my body.
As a woman, I have very mixed feelings about the campaign and how it has morphed from putting an end to sexual exploitation in Hollywood and politics to, dare I say it, a bit of a tornado of gender politics. I realize that is a contentious position to take, especially as a woman. We’ve seen examples of people being accused (let’s cut to the chase – men being accused) of sexual harassment and assault when something on a date went awry. And while the truth of harassment might exist in many of the cases brought forward, there are others where it is nothing more than vengeance.
Some are calling that “collateral damage” … which is outrageously unfair to the innocent lives affected by the accusations. Women who speak out against the #metoo accusers are met with this new strategy of shouting you down … bullying of sorts, and demanding they surrender their “woman card” because they’re obviously not part of the sisterhood.
Misogyny exists. Yes, I have also had my share of “creepy” moments – but I’ve never let that define me. I’ve never felt inspired to whip up a protest placard and march on the streets (Full disclosure, I’m not that motivated anyway). I’ve had to endure awkwardness in the workplace, sexual commentary that bordered on obscene, harassment online and full-on assumptions about my sexual availability for cash simply because I have a naughty hobby. I still receive dozens of unsolicited dick pics, meeting requests and uncensored commentary on what they would like to do to me as an object, as opposed to a person with an intellect.
Men have tried to “exert” their position of power over me, unsuccessfully. At the same time, I’ve often admitted to using my own feminine wiles and charms to advance my own devious distractions and amusement.
In actuality, I feel less safe walking at night than I do in a workplace full of horny men. But that uneasy feeling existed long before Hollywood celebrities started falling from grace. I don’t chalk that up to workplace misogyny. Women have felt that fear for decades, and it’s about a much different and darker kind of gender power if you ask me.
But all that hasn’t turned me against the idea that men and women can relate, can have fun – and that we all should own some responsibility in how we behave. It hasn’t made me anti-man.
As we seen in the #metoo debate, there are many sides to an argument. We’ve seen questionable behaviour from men AND from women in regard to exerting sexual power over another. Judgement has occasionally been lacking, common decency in short supply and mutual respect almost nil.
The dynamics of how we all now relate has been altered forever by this activism and staunch side-taking. We’ve lost the subtle nuances of the flirting, and made relationships that much more difficult.
Yes, it’s easy for me to sit here and hold these opinions, not really having had such “casting couch” experiences – but at the same time, as a mother of two young men, it terrifies me to think their future could be compromised because a spiteful and emboldened young lady didn’t like the lobster bisque.
Not a brilliantly sexy entry today.
In Canada over the past week there’s been tremendous outpouring of grief, support and compassion following the terrible, terrible accident in Humboldt, Saskatchewan. What may seem strange to some people is just how deep that accident affected our nation. In Canada, hockey is such a big part of our fabric. It’s just part of who we are.
And, frankly, mass deaths are just not part of our cultural reality either. To Canadians, it’s very shocking; even more so when it involves young lives taken way too soon.
Of course, as we move through the collective mourning, questions beyond the situation begin to arise in conversations and relationships. I think it’s a natural part of understanding death to recoil into yourself and examine how you’re pursuing your own life, your own dreams … your own legacy.
It’s a simple question. But I don’t believe it comes with any simple answers:
If you were dying and could only offer one piece of advice, what would it be?
You know, for me this question is almost a plague. I don’t mean that in a flippant way, but it’s something that, as I grow older, I find myself internalizing and struggling to answer to my own accord. It rests in a corner of my mind, challenging the decisions I made in my life so far, the impact of those decisions on my family, my relationship, and my own sense of worth. What advice can you leave that doesn’t get lost in a clichéd moment of “if it was only that simple.”
There’s a lot of reality to “pursue your dreams” and “live life by your own rules.” Very real obstacles will stand in your way – some, perhaps, insurmountable. There will be societal rules and, often, obligations. If you spend all that time pursuing a dream and it never comes to fruition, is your legacy that of someone who tried despite the odds, or (cynically) is your legacy that of a failure? These are real thoughts you must overcome and set a path for yourself.
When you’re young, you don’t consider some of this. Often you’re working to establish a life based on what society expects of you – a career, financial plan, car, family, house … a stable relationship where you know the other person’s last name. Our society also has a very dark and twisted way of dragging you into materialism and debt. It doesn’t take long before you’re wondering if vacation this summer is a week at a KOA, or if you work hard and save, can we spend a week somewhere tropical?
It’s so easily done – and so insidious – how your life gets into the routine where other people have greater control and influence on your decisions. In short time, you’ve not only mortgaged your house, but also your soul.
And then “boom” … something rattles your world, and you begin to reflect on where you are, what you’re doing – and why.
It’s easy to paint that as the stereotypical “midlife crisis”, but the truth is, it’s not something a Mercedes convertible or a trophy wife/husband is going to solve. Your path has been paved by someone else’s expectations of where they think you need to be. For so many people, this is what creates that feeling of being trapped – trapped by the inability to shed that life and challenge themselves.
One of the greatest quotes I’ve heard on this came from comedian (and Canadian) Jim Carrey. He said “so many of us choose our path out of fear disguised as practicality.”
That’s very true. Our habit is to create a safe zone and rarely venture from it.
For me, pushing those boundaries is a big part of my website and sexual experiences I’ve had in my marriage. When I first started down this path, the whole idea was about fulfilling a need for excitement, testing the waters of my sexuality and fantasies. Even now, 16 years later, there’s a frightening aspect to it that still weighs on me, but I don’t regret the decisions I’ve made. It’s a small way of pushing against complacency, despite the potential risks and consequences. It’s one less thing that, when my time comes, I can answer the “what if?”
It hasn’t been easy. There’s constant doubt, fear … worries about the impact pursuing a simply impulse might have in the long run. It can be very hard to overcome the societal mores; which is also what I think people fight against when trying to bring meaning and purpose to life – and not just from the sexual perspective like mine.
I’m at a stage right now of that self-reflection; a time in my life when I’ve come to consciously understand how precious and limited our time on this earth can be. I’ve started to wonder – almost plan – whether or not the best idea is to skip the “retirement savings” and live today and let the future be what it is.
I won’t call it a midlife crisis though, merely a process of taking stock and evaluating what my true desires are.
There are so many other adventures to be had, so many paths to forge … if there’s enough bravery and determination.
My advice: Embrace the adventure; make it yours not someone else’s.
I’ve long advocated for the sharing of sexual fantasies with a partner. Communication and trust are two very important aspects of a healthy relationship – and understanding that just because you are in a relationship doesn’t mean your mind is closed.
As I mentioned in my last entry, I’ve been struggling with a downswing in my sex life. A natural cycle in life, but something that comes with mixed blessings. Part of that has meant in my relationship there hasn’t been a great deal of sharing in regard to sexual fantasies. But don’t assume that has meant things have turned for the worst, far from it. It’s just meant other ideas, dreams and silly notions have found their way to the surface.
In what I see as, perhaps, a turn in a different direction is a recent opportunity I had to push myself out of that muddle. I’d been delightfully tormented by a dream that left me feeling somewhat … my old self … and made a conscious effort to share it with my understanding husband. As expected – and comforting to be reminded – his response was to push my mind deeper into that fantasy; to reignite my imagination by helping me connect those thoughts to my physical desire.
We’ve always tried hard to have an open approach to such things – and tried equally hard to see them for the truth behind them, as opposed to turning on jealousy and frustration.
There’s always a risk of trying to venture back into that territory after life has taken you down a different path. And it can be a challenge to return to that space because there’s that sense of having “moved on”. I worry about that myself – but I’m slowly and meticulously finding ways to regain a sense of being a sexual person; a woman with ideas, desires and fantasies.
Trust me people, it’s worth the risk to open those lines of communication between each other … especially when real life begins to consume almost every sinew of your being.