#ds ldr

“I am indeed over 40, dear lady. Do you prefer your gentlemen younger, same age, or older than you? I will confess, you had me intrigued at “curvy, tall, natural redhead, silvering, and easily stimulated.” I have enjoyed your captions on images and look forward to digging further back to learn more of this sensual creature you are lovely.”

Your flattery is not unwelcome, thank you. (Who doesn’t like a compliment now and then?)
And, you have good taste in Tumblrs to follow if you are one of mine. (Shameless self-love.)

The current gentleman is a couple years older, and He feels quite good. I do not say “my” current gentleman as He technically is not “mine”, and saying “my” or “mine” feels tabu (and possessive). W/we have gently gone back and forth on this point but ever-the-lawyer’s-daughter, I love technicalities, and call them out, tactfully. I also have a superstition similar to having a name tattooed on your skin: it’s bad luck. Labeling Him “mine” when he is not mine, to me, might tempt the Gods to say, “Sorry honey, that’s not gonna happen.” I could not live with myself if that happened. As for age… I have had younger men in this decade, as young as 27. One was like an untrained hunting dog: great potential, enthusiastic abilities but no idea how to use any of them, or in what order or strength. This may sound unladylike and cold: he was fun but clueless when it came to seduction, female sex, and slow-burn pleasuring. I sent him home before breakfast but after coffee, and long before my real-life responsibility arrived from their weekend with the other parent. I do not want to be someone’s leader, though I’ve been complimented on my teaching skills. Current Gentleman is helping me see I need to be lead by an intelligent, confident, strong, masculine male. Not a hard ass but an Alpha Hetero Male. Hunting Dog was male but not a leader at all. Current Gentleman is a natural teacher; He invites me to explore submission; rather, He is unlocking a lot of things I have denied my whole life. It is an unexpected gift, this exploration. And, I am glad it is Him.

A few years ago, I was with an older man. Older by about seven years. He had quite a talent for seduction, big hand/great touch, excellent kisser. Drove an old red Suburban I nicknamed ‘The Shuttle’ because pieces of it would fall off in my driveway. A transplanted mid-westerner whose luck fell somewhere between “none” and “scratch-off”, he was a mediocre cook (though he called himself a chef. He was not a chef) who painted (houses, barns, etc.). When he wasn’t liquid and emotional on cheap red wine, I felt safe.

My favorite date was in the beginning; our sixth or seventh, in the middle of an ocean beach parking lot (which he did not like at all), about this time of year. He picked me up on a Sunday after I’d gone to church. The plan was to have a picnic in his ‘burban, at the beach. But that wasn’t my plan. I wanted to fool around in daylight; up to then, we’d made out a few times, petted, but nothing below the belt. Nothing. I do not make the first move…but that Sunday I was feeling too randy to wait for him to stop being nice. It took gently climbing onto and straddling him, bare bottomed in a skirt and unbuttoned sweater, for him to finally understand exactly what I wanted for lunch and *then* he gave in.

He was stubborn when it came to sex. I always felt pushy — but he never said no. Always stalled taking his pants off. Always wanted to make me cum first. Never understood that I like being made to wait; he had no sense of play in the bedroom at all. The way he sucked in his breath the first time I took him into my mouth that afternoon was such a rush. He was very quiet after I finished, asking if I could do it again, soon, please. Later, he told me he had no idea other women had been doing it ‘wrong.’ (Really? There’s a wrong way? Poor him.)

We were engaged, briefly, for about two months. The wine consumption killed it for me. That, and I wanted more, an equal, a friend, a mutual, playful lover, a partner. We were not “evenly yolked”, as the Bible calls it.

Then, it all hit me and, tired of wrong choices, I took a break. About two years. I was done with men and seeking someone spiritually, mentally, socially, and please, God, sexually compatible because that person was not on the planet. I’d been married a dozen years earlier, a bright, feisty girl in a sexless marriage, long before any of these dalliances transpired. Once every three or four months (or less). Not kidding. I was pretty, smart, present, affectionate, capable and completely miserable. Eight years of that, and I left. Lack of sex was the least reason. But after the older man, I shut down and was done.

Current Man and I somehow stumbled across each other and the rest unfolds as I write.
It is more than a year but not two. It’s interesting, really strange but good, fun, challenging because it is also long distance (same continent, long drive; single parents on single parent budgets). I was not looking nor was I expecting anything. Me and The Universe had a couple teary conversations and after that, I gave my troubles away, like letting go a balloon and didn’t look back. He was looking, His personal ad is probably still on the dating site, but we did not meet that way. Facebook. High School. And that is where I will leave you, this fine Monday morning.

Agent 355