Archive for January, 2009

On Love, Fate, and Living in the Moment

“It is written.” That’s the last line of the movie from India, called Slum Dog Millionaire. It’s a gripping and often shocking story of how fate unfolds along what seem to be universal laws. One of them is how much your destiny depends on your desire–be it love, money, or something else. The other is that love is the happier destiny.

I like to believe it was destiny that had had a hand in the return of the Prince (my younger boyfriend) after a recent breakup. But destiny is never that linear. First it had to teach me two important lessons about the thing I have always desired–love.

Lesson number concerns a memory from six years ago. I was at a bar with friends, being held captive by the ebullient ravings of Jennifer. Jennifer is a slinky blonde with a flirtatious nature that could only be described as omnivorous (bisexual) and gluttonous. She had just returned from some Miracle-of-Love type of workshop and was splattering the crowd with platitudes and clichés. I rolled my eyes with boredom, causing Jennifer to lunge at me with a raised, admonishing finger. “You either live in love or fear,” she said warningly. “Love cannot exist where there is fear.” I smelt the gin and tonic on her breath and pushed her away.

Still, the line kept coming back to me. I didn’t know what it meant but I felt I should, as though I needed to understand it.

Then the next lesson came. My friend and co-author, Chris Heward, got diagnosed with cancer at age 59. He was a scientist who studied anti-aging medicine. He knew everything and then he was dead after a few horrible months.

I sat there one day recently reflecting on all this, trapped in what could only be described as a convergence of clichés. The come and gone nature of life. The fear or love nature of mind. How we only have the moment. How you don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone.

I got to seeing how afraid I had been of loss, failure, and rejection. I had defended myself so hard against my fears that I wound up inviting them back into my life and even giving them their own rooms.

I thought too about an allegorical book I had read years ago by the surrealist, René Daumal. It’s called Mount Analogue and it’s sort of about mountain climbing (which is sort of like saying Plato’s Republic is about two guys talking). It asks, why does anyone go to the trouble of climbing a mountain when they have to turn around and come down again? The answer, as I understand it, is because they never forget the view.

I saw myself standing at the base of the mountain always looking up, always asking, what if I can’t make it? What if I fall and hurt myself? What if I get lost and run out of food? Where will I sleep? What if they don’t have toilet paper?

I saw how I had settled for the drive-through McDonald’s life instead. Always waiting in line for the white bag of junk food to come through my car window. Always sitting in my car, tightly strapped into the seat, doors locked, munching away on food that always tasted the same.

That’s when it dawned on me. Maybe endless repetition gives you the illusion that nothing changes or that you have some measure of control, but is that anyway to live? I was so unhappy.

No more of the McDonald’s life for me, I said to myself. No more “what if’s?” From here on in, I promised myself, it’s saying, “yes,” to what brings love into life. I will rule my life as the Queen of Hearts I truly am.

I get so dramatic but it works for me. I picked up the phone and called the Prince. We’ve been happy ever since. It’s no exaggeration to say that “yes” changes everything. For one thing, I don’t think of him as the Prince anymore. Now he’s the King. I call him “K” for short.

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Life On the Toilet

I know this isn’t exactly polite conversation, trust me, it’s necessary. You’re about to read the “inside” history, the story of my stomach. For all those with unremitting digestive problems, read on: there is hope.

It all started so long ago, it’s like talking about a ghost. When I was young, I spent my spare time reading, running around, and eating to calm my anger (divorcing parents), my restlessness (no boyfriend), and my angst (acne). I believe it’s called “emotional eating.” Eventually running around turned into moping around or watching TV. I started to pack on the pounds.

Given the endless rounds of boy fantasies and infatuations I tortured myself over, being chubby was out of the question. I embarked on a serious weight loss program and in true Pammy-Push-It-To-Extremes Fashion, overdid it. This was at a time when the word, “anorexic,” was not bandied around as the highest form of a compliment you could pay a woman. All we knew was that when the singer, Karen Carpenter, died she was awfully skinny.

For those who have ventured on this path, it is well known that the journey out of anorexia is cast with a thousand hazards. Ending up with a raging case of bulimia (eating and purging) is one of them. Bulimia, in turn, does wonders to a digestive system.

Fast forward through a decade and every variation on psychiatry and therapy, to 1988. I finally meet a therapist, Viola Fodor, who at last helps me get on the train out of Eating Hell.

Still I was left with the consequence of years of crazy eating: poor digestion in all its many noisy, groaning forms. Most women can relate to getting constipated when they travel. For me, life had become a never-ending trip.

I was telling this sad tale to my new naturopathic physician recently, Dr. Donese Worden. Don’t get me wrong. I didn’t offer it up unprovoked. She has a detailed questionnaire with an entire section dedicated to bowel movements: frequency of, size, shape, color, smell, floater or sinker? I guess that’s what natural docs do, they ask the questions no one else wants to. (Sex came up later but that’s another post.)

Naturally, I was repulsed. But I was also relieved to be bearing my soul about the things that really bothered me. Dr. Worden jotted notes as I took her through the litany of my toilet tribulations. I have gas every time I eat, boo hoo. I can’t poop regularly, sob sob. I have to eat cups of fiber to “go,” moan, moan.

Dr Worden patted my hand reassuringly. She had a plan, the first step of which was to test my blood for food allergies. This would tell me which foods were causing inflammatory reactions with all the related symptoms of indigestion and poor nutrient absorption.

In a couple of weeks, I got my results. About twenty foods were listed as problems. They were things I ate everyday, eggs, peanuts, chili pepper, wheat, garlic, and even sugar (omg). Being desperate, I immediately set about eliminating all the items from my diet (even sugar).

Within a day, I noticed something new: silence after a meal. The stillness was almost eerie after years of being followed by “quacking ducks,” or “dying ducks” as a friend once put it. I was elated. Everyday seemed to bring improvement. Then one morning, I was inspired to write the following note to Dr. Worden:

Dear Dr Worden. You are a great doctor. For the first time in my life, I don’t fart. This morning I pooped a Chihuahua. It even barked at me. I don’t know how to thank you for restoring my digestion to health.

My friends say it’s a sign of old age when all you want to talk about is your poop. I say poop on them. They’re envious because they’re full of poop now and I’m not. Anyway, I have to go now. I have to poop again.

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Walk Your Talk: the sex gait

Ladies, you know how you’re not supposed to chow down on a date, or fart and burp in public because it’s so not what ladies do? Well now you’ve got to add walking to the list because research shows, how you walk reveals your orgasm history. And we all know real ladies don’t have sex to come – they’re just angling for a cuddle or two.

The study was published in the September 2008 issue of The Journal of Sexual Medicine. It was led by Stuart Brody of the University of the West of Scotland in collaboration with colleagues in Belgium. A friendly reader just forwarded it to me seeking some thoughtful analysis.

Here it is.

Sixteen female Belgian university students participated, adequately fortified, one hopes, with liters of strong beer. They completed a questionnaire on their sexual behavior and were then videotaped from a distance while walking in a public place. The videotapes were rated by two professors of sexology and two research assistants trained in the “functional-sexological” (I’m afraid to ask) approach to sexology. The observers were not aware of the women’s orgasmic history. This is science after all.

So here’s the good news. It takes an “appropriately trained sexologist” to decode your walk — not just any guy can figure this out. (Talk about justifying your fetish, I mean, your degree.) The sexologists “were able to correctly infer vaginal orgasm through watching the way the women walked more than 80% of the time.”

I imagine the conversation went something like this:

Caladh (not his real name): I’m picking up major stride length on the blonde.

Saertgen (not his real name): [Pensively sucking on an empty pipe] It’s over 2 meters for god’s sake! Combined with the vertebral rotation…why it…

Caladh: …Could mean only one thing…

Saertgen: [Visibly excited] Exactly. Free, unblocked energetic flow from the legs through the pelvis to the spine! And we all know the deduction there.

Caladh: [Drooling on his kilt] Hot. And confident. With a highly orgasmic gait. Do we have her number?

Saertgen: Forget about it. I get her. [Pounds chest with pipe.]

Caladh: [Pouting. He stares down at his clipboard] But the other ones have blocked pelvic muscles, and you know as well as I do that’s associated with psychosexual impairments, hindering not only vaginal orgasmic response but also gait.

I could go on but I’ll spare you.

The one conclusion, however, I take away from their research is that if you have some blocks in your pelvic muscles, it may affect your ability to experience “vaginal orgasm,” as the researchers specify. “Research,” they further write, “has linked vaginal orgasm to better mental health.”

What your walk says about your ability to experience the “slightly” more popular clitoral orgasm is any one’s guess. My best recommendation is don’t even think about doing the breast stroke in a public swimming pool. A sexologist may be watching.

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How to be a SeasonedSuperSexer

Is it possible that more people are having sex now that it’s about the only thing most of us can still afford? That’s what I’ve been thinking lately. It led me to interview a couple of special gals who I would put in the category of “seasonedsupersexers”. Let’s call them Lighthouse and Rockette. If you’re looking for a new perspective on sex, read on:

SeasonedSex: Lighthouse, your reputation as being multi-orgasmic precedes you. Were you born that way or is more of an attitude?

Lighthouse: I’m more comfortable with the subject of sex than most people. I’ve always had an open curiosity towards sex. I didn’t feel comfortable discussing sex with my family, but I was a smart kid and knew where to find information. The internet wasn’t popular at that time, so I went to book stores and talked to my friends and, of course, I tried things. Sexuality is such an essential part of our beings, it seems natural to always be exploring. Of all the things I am curious about in this world, I am especially curious about connecting with others and the subject of intimacy in general.

SeasonedSex: What about you, Rockette. How much sex do you like? Do you still masturbate even when you’re getting regular sex?

Rockette: Sex has evolved for me. I was raised a Christian and believed in waiting for sex until after marriage. Around the age of 25, I became an atheist and started to explore my sexuality. It still took me 6 months to a year to start to feel comfortable with my body. It took another 2 to 3 years, and a partner who really desired me, to open up. I don’t know how I compare with other women but I would guess that for most women sex drive is highly influenced by how happy they are, their self-esteem, hormones, and if they have safe sex partners available. When I was at my peak health and happiness several years ago, I dreamt of having sex twice a day, three or four times a week. And, yes! I still masturbate when I have sex or am in a relationship. I expect that my partner would do the same. I like the quick rush from masturbation and if sex is good with my partner I’ll use masturbation to relive exciting moments.

Lighthouse: In a long-term relationship, I’m generally happy with sex 3 to 5 times a week. I go through phases where I like a lot more too. And hell yeah, I still masturbate—even if I have a regular sex-life. Sometimes my cravings are physical (I need skin on skin) and sometimes they are mental. Masturbation is a great release. This must be proven by now, right?

SeasonedSex: If you’re in a long-term relationship, how do you keep sex alive?

Lighthouse: In a word, differentiation. I wrote about it on my blog. A quote from the book, Passionate Marriage, by David Schnarch, sums it up: “Differentiation is your ability to maintain your sense of self when you are emotionally and/or physically close to others—especially as they become increasingly important to you.”

I’m more and more of a proponent of couples NOT living together (unless children are involved). It seems as if people become easily complacent. It’s happened to me each of the three times I’ve lived with someone. And I considered each of us to be highly intelligent, conscious beings! We seemed to lose our identities, stagnating instead of flourishing.

It’s important for me to have my own space. A space where there are no compromises. A place to retreat within. To re-root and gain strength when the world beats down on me. A place to be ugly and horrid where no one can see me. A place to push boundaries and make mistakes alone. I don’t know. Solitude for whatever reason. I think I romanticize it.

Rockette: I agree about the importance of keeping one’s individuality. In my last relationship, I tried to keep sex alive by encouraging my boyfriend to explore porn with me, using props, and trying different sexual approaches, such as Tantra. I learned that unless both partners are fully committed and interested in keeping sex alive, it won’t work. In my case my boyfriend was not ready for commitment so having better sex was actually too scary for him and he withdrew sexually.

SeasonedSex: I was on polyamorysociety.org and they define polyamory as “the nonpossessive, honest, responsible and ethical philosophy and practice of loving multiple people simultaneously.” Does that actually work?

Lighthouse: I haven’t been able to make it work. I’m all for it intellectually, but emotionally I can’t seem to hack it. After almost 10 years of trying, I finally decided that it’s not what I want. I learned a lot about myself trying to make it work, looking at my fears and jealousy. Finally I got tired of doing so much work. I just wanted to relax and have a good time. I am who I am. I do my best.

Rockette: I’ve been in an open relationship. I don’t think I will ever be fully polyamorous. Depending on my partner, I’m fine with them flirting, cuddling and kissing a girl, but I’m not sure I’d be comfortable with it going any farther than that. I think it’s romantic knowing that my partner freely wants to be with me, even though he has other choices.

SeasonedSex: What advice would you give a woman who wants to be more sexual but isn’t sure how to open up to that side of herself?

Lighthouse: The most important things are education and authenticity. Start asking yourself what you like and don’t like and go from there. What feels good? What would you like to try? Check out websites. Visit sex stores. Read erotica. Masturbate.

Rockette: I’d also say if she has good female friends maybe ask them to share how they have explored their sexuality. Of course, you’ve got to be safe and learn more about STD’s and safety precautions.

SeasonedSex: How do you define a great lover?

Rockette: A great lover is someone who is able to connect with his partner, understand her needs and desires, and be attentive. He’s not just focused on orgasm as the ultimate goal. He realizes there’s a lot more to sex. Honest communication, diversity and playfulness are also good — one day he’s a Romeo, next he’s a caveman.  He has to be willing to explore sex it on all its levels.

Thanks to Rockette and Lighthouse for their honesty and openness. I think I’ll ask the same questions of some men and see what happens. Are the sexes really that different? Stay tuned.

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