Friday, October 31, 2008

Guest Post: Needle In The Haystack, Chapter 7

It was time to check in with Emma. As much apprehension as I have – most of it stemming from my own excitement yet uncertainty – I've decided to move forward with the meeting. It's just lunch, right? I sit down and compose a welcome back email.

Hi Emma!

Hope you had a safe and enjoyable trip to Vegas and aren't too "weather shocked." Seems winter came in with a vengeance today!

I suppose this is as good a time as any to address your question regarding meeting others' expectations ...

Well, it's been kind of a cornerstone of my life. I'm an only child and the expectations (behavior, grades, etc.) were high. I always had a goal to meet, but it was usually set by someone else. That continued on through most of my life. Now mind you, I haven't always done things in the order they were expected (as was the case with finishing my degree late in life), but I've met the expectations of family none-the-less.

Specifically in regards to my attraction to women, the expectation from my family was that I would meet a nice man, get married, and provide a grandchild. Because I do have an attraction to men too, I just kind of shoved that other side of me in to the deep crevices of my being. I could be - should be - just as happy with a man. A traditional, heterosexual relationship.

As life went on, it became more and more clear that I was denying an integral part of my being. I came to a place where I realized that I could love more than one person simultaneously for the different qualities they had. I also admitted to myself that I really don't have a gender filter when it comes to attraction to people. The attraction lies in the qualities of the person, not in the gender of the person. That said, I believe there are some basic personality differences in men and women (generally) and that they offer different satisfactions of my needs/desires.

Now, I've built this little life of expectations - the husband, the career, the home, the kids. I fulfilled the expectations of others, but ignored (for the most part) my desires. Yes, some of the expectations of others were also mine, but there has been this chunk of life that I've set aside and I'm just not willing to do that any longer.

The trick is in being true to myself while protecting the interests of those I love. I don't want anyone hurt in this process - the goal is not to create drama, but rather to explore my needs/desires in a manner that is still respectful to them and to me.

Are you lost yet? It's not an easy thing for me to explain even though it feels quite concrete.

I'd be interested to hear your thoughts ...


Wow! If that wasn't a page full of thoughts, I don't know what is. This was the first time I had really put all of this down in writing. Before, it was nothing more than a swirling of thoughts through my brain – always in motion, but never quite settled. Writing it down, and sharing it with Emma, made it far more real.

Again I had to wonder if maybe I'd said too much – or not enough. But this time, I didn't check my email every 5 minutes. I made the decision that being honest was going to be a critical part of this intimate friendship.

Within a few hours, Emma responded:

Great to hear from you, LouAnne -- I just re-read all our correspondence and, I must say, it's been an interesting exchange to date.

We had a wonderful, relaxing time in Las Vegas. Didn't end up doing all that much gambling, but we had a lot of fun doing endless walking, people-watching, dining and, at times, going our separate ways -- David to the sports book to wager on horse races and football games and me to the shopping mall and the pool, where I did a lot of reading. The weather was perfect -- in the low 80s. All in all, it was a great trip.

I found your latest e-mail very interesting. It sounds as though you are a true bi-sexual...perhaps more so than most of the women who post in the W4W section. The idea of not having a gender filter is fascinating. I wonder if that is true for me as well. I think, for multiple reasons, that I prefer to have a man (the right man) for my life partner. But for a sex partner, as I said before, I lean toward women. Actually, my dream scenario would be to have my primary sex partner be a woman, with an anonymous man showing up at the 11th hour to help finish me off (with the aforementioned marvelous creation) under her direction. And you're the first person I ever admitted THAT to!!!

Not sure how I came by my interest in women. Of course, it may just be genetic. Or it could have something to do with the fact that the most thrilling sexual experience of my formative years was with a neighbor girl during a sleepover. It involved nothing more than giving each other light chest rubs...and we didn't even touch each other's nipples. We took turns lightly tracing spirals that grew tighter and tighter around each breast, drawing ever closer to the nipple. I remember lying there, in exquisite agony, wishing desperately that she'd drag a finger across my nipple. She was probably wishing the same. It didn't happen, but the sexual tension left an indelible impression on my adolescent psyche. Perhaps as a result, I have always had a particular attraction to breasts.

Well, now you know things that none of my family or friends know. Isn't cyberspace correspondence amazing in that regard?

I'm looking forward to what I expect will be a wonderful visit on Saturday. I'll be looking for you at 1 pm. Saturday in the Nordstrom's shoe department at Franklin Mills, near the women's athletic shoe section. Actually, I did a ton of shopping in Vegas, so I don't feel as though I need as much time for it at Franklin Mills as I'd originally thought I would. So if you'd prefer to meet at noon or 12:30 instead, just let me know. Or later than 1 for that matter. Whatever is convenient for you is fine with me.

See you soon,


I think I read her email seventeen times before I could stop for a moment and breathe. I could so easily put myself in the position of laying naked next to her, giving her light a light chest rub, tracing those very spirals that grew tighter and tighter around each breast, drawing ever closer to her nipple. However, in my fantasy, her nipple would not be forgotten. Not only would I touch it, but I would lick all around it, and embrace it with my warm, tender lips. And that would just be the beginning.

It has now been two days since she sent that email. I am contemplating my response – should it be tender and understanding, or should I share with her how I see the replay of this childhood memory playing out as an adult? We will be meeting, for the first time in three days, and already I know that I want to kiss her.

Thursday, October 30, 2008

Hey Ya'll...It's ME!

I'm recovering from a little cloud in my chest. That's what they saw on the X-Ray yesterday. A little upper respiratory infection that makes me sound all sexy, like Brenda Vacarro!

Fortunately, I'm on some good meds and am on the mend for my date with Fortune Cookies this Saturday! I'm so excited to meet my local blogging buddy!

I'm picking her up at 10am and she's going to have some fantastic coffee ready for me. Then we'll head to a "Take Flight" art workshop where we'll be using mixed media to either get rid of something that we want to send out into the Universe or bring something closer. Should be lots of fun!


Now, about my guest blogger....

How're you liking the blossoming lesbian story? It's fixin' to get really good! I've already read the next installment, but you know how I like to keep you all on the edges of your seats. You'll just have to wait a little bit to find out what happens next.

I'm wondering what you think about it though.

Is it cheating if your husband said...20 years ago...that he wouldn't mind if you did something like this? Should she tell him what she's doing? Why do you think she's keeping it a secret?

Would you be okay with it if your wife decided to have a girlfriend?

What do you think the pitfalls of this could be?

Could you/would you entertain the thoughts of a little girl on girl action on the side? Would your husband mind? Would you tell him?

Remember, this is really happening. LuAnne is meeting Emma THIS Saturday!

Tuesday, October 28, 2008

Guest Post: Needle In The Haystack, Chapter 6

I told Emma that I would call her that afternoon between 1:30 and 2:00. At 1:35, I headed to the lobby of our building at work and at 1:37 I dialed her number. It rang three times …

Emma: Hello?

Me: Is this Emma?

Emma: This must be LouAnne!

Whew! She knew it was me and I actually managed to sound (I think) somewhat casual in the conversation, but this is also where my greatest concern was. Would there be dead space now that introductions had been made?

Fortunately, Emma – once again – took the lead. There was, however, one awkward moment – a moment where it became clear that I was not the first woman with whom she had had phone contact. About a minute into the call, Emma asked, "So it was you who responded to my ad, wasn't it?"

Well shit! Either she's playing this game so hard she's got several pots in the fire, or I've not made very much of an impression on her. This was not where I wanted this conversation to go.

I gently reminded her that no, she answered my ad – the needle in the haystack, remember? She was extremely apologetic, but honest as well (a quality I appreciate). She let me know that yes, she had talked to a few women recently – there had been somewhat of a resurgent interest in an ad she place on Craig's List sometime back, and then she repeated several facts about me – specifically – that put me somewhat at ease. We agreed that yes, a meeting at Franklin Mills was the next logical step.

All-in-all, the call went fairly well, and with the exception of that one, uncomfortable moment, seemed promising. Feeling like I had just interviewed for a job, I thought it was appropriate to send a "Thank you for your time" email. I wrote:

Hi Emma!

Just a quick note to let you know how much I enjoyed our phone conversation this afternoon. It's always interesting and fun to put a voice with the written word.

As I recall, you and your husband are headed to Vegas tomorrow - here's wishing you a safe, but frolic filled long weekend!

I wasn't sure if there would be a response or not. A common theme continues to run through my head – even more so with the "slip" during the phone call. Is this a woman who has been at this for quite some time or is she really the woman she portrayed herself as via email? Am I in over my head? Moments later I received her reply:

Funny you should write me. I was just going to send you a note apologizing for the mental lapse re: who was responding to whose ad.

It's not that I'm pursuing loads of possibilities simultaneously. It's just that, for whatever fluky reason, a couple ads that I placed weeks ago have suddenly attracted interest. I'm not accustomed to corresponding with more than one person at a time. Hence the confusion.

In any event...I was very interested in the reference in your previous e-mail to your desire to be who you are meant to be vs. Meeting others' expectations. Care to elaborate on that before we get together? I promise to write back with something that I hope will be equally interesting (not sure what yet) on myself.

Have a good evening,


At this point, I'm not sure what to make of all of this. Being over 40, and having been around the block a few times, I've grown a bit cynical. Her explanation makes logical sense, but my own insecurities are playing devil's advocate. Emma is headed out of town though, which gives me a few days to see how I feel about things – and to answer a few more of those difficult questions I've been asking myself.

For instance, if I am serious about pursuing a lesbian relationship, why am I not first ending the relationship with my husband?

Some would say that it's because I'm not really serious about it – and they'd be right to a certain extent. At this point, I am not willing to pay the price (socially) to publicly declare my sexual orientation. I'm not willing to risk my family until I am certain that these feelings I have are real. I've also not ruled out the fact that my husband might actually be fine with us adding this type of relationship to ours. At some point, assuming things go as I expect they will, I'll have to broach the subject with him.

Will I lie? Plain and simple, yes! I will lie to my husband to meet up with Emma, although it will be more of a series of half-truths. I will likely tell him nothing more than I am meeting a girlfriend at the mall for lunch. True, but not the entire truth.

Will I lie to Emma? I honestly don't know. I don't want to – and right now I cannot imagine there being a need to – but if I am lying to my husband it would be somewhat presumptuous of me to claim I wouldn't lie to Emma.

What if she's an ax murderer (or stalker, or a man, or any other number of "What-If's" that must be considered when meeting someone online)?

I think, meeting in a public place somewhat removed from my home alleviates some of that concern. The only personal information Emma has is my cell phone number. I can say, with the utmost certainty, that this first meeting will stay "public." Precautions will be taken for safety.

I've got four days to think about all of this while she is in Vegas with her husband. I continue to remind myself that as excited as I am, I do have the option of backing out at any time. Oh hell! Who am I trying to fool? This meeting will happen – it has to happen – I need for it to happen.

Monday, October 27, 2008

Guest Post: Needle In The Haystack, Chapter 5

It became clear, early on, that Emma and I were both capable writers. As is often the case, I just assumed that most people write well but quickly discovered that "most people" don't read Craig's List. This was confirmed be Emma's next response:

You certainly know how to write, LouAnne...which separates you from the CL pack right out of the box.

Your background is very interesting. Definitely more bi than mine, as I never so much as kissed another woman on the lips until a few months ago. But my sexual fantasies have always centered on women. I've had a very solid sex life with my husband for 20+ years and cannot imagine a more wonderful mate. But in general, I'd have to say I'm slightly more attracted to women than men (though I do think the penis is a marvelous creation).

As I analyze why I've finally decided to act on this desire to be intimate with a woman, I think I've reached a sort of "carpe diem / now or never" point that's my version of a mid-life crisis. The trigger may have been the death of my dearest friend about a year ago. She died of a very aggressive cancer that spread from organ to bone to organ within a period of months. I had known her for over 35 years. She was my maid of honor, the godmother of our oldest child and closer to me than many sisters are. While I have many other casual friends, she was my only truly close friend. Our relationship was strictly platonic, but it was also very intimate. So I'm thinking her death left a void that this adventure of mine is seeking to fill, in part, in a different way. That's just speculation, but it seems almost too much of a coincidence to think there is no link between the two developments.

In any event, I'd be delighted to chat further with you. I believe I already gave you my cell phone number -- XXX-XXX-XXXX. If, after we talk on the phone, we feel it makes sense to get together, one possibility would be to meet on Saturday, Nov. 1, when I'm thinking of heading to Franklin Mills Mall to do some power shopping. This Thursday, my husband and I are flying to Las Vegas for a long weekend so that would be the first open weekend for me. Of course, I'd also be happy for you to come down to DC if you so desire.

Look forward to speaking with you,


Clearly, my attempt at dragging this out via email wasn't working very well. Emma had given me her phone number - again - and was expecting a call. Not only that, she was proposing a date for a meeting. I should be excited, right? Thrilled that she seems as interested in me as I am in her? Yet there is one thing causing me a great deal of anxiety – I hate talking on the phone.
This isn't a debilitating anxiety, but it's pretty darn close. It's a challenge for me to call to order Chinese take-out. What's worse is that this is an irrational fear and I know it. I decide to be upfront and honest with Emma, even if it makes me seem ridiculously insecure.

Thanks for the compliment Emma! I enjoy writing and find it to be somewhat of a lost art these days. Seems that texting has gotten the best of the under 40 crowd and the grace of phrases as simple as "Are you?" have been replaced by just letters - somehow r u just doesn't do it for me!

I had to laugh at your "I do think the penis is a marvelous creation" statement. I find the same to be so true. In fact, the human body - male or female - can be quite erotic in its own, individual way.

I'm sorry to hear about the loss of your friend, but do appreciate you sharing the story with me. Sometimes it takes a significant event to put things into perspective. I know I've had a bit of my own mid-life crisis - one where I needed to evaluate the life I wanted vs. the life I was living. I've known for years who I am, but have been afraid to be that person. I like to think that as I get older societal pressures and assumptions mean far less.

I have a confession though - I have a bit of a phone phobia. I know ... sounds odd ... but I think it stems from my need to be able to read the body language of people I speak with (something I've found to be far more dependable than just listening to the words). That said, I do think making contact with you on the phone is the next, logical step. Would tomorrow (Wednesday night) work for you?

I am also quite excited about the prospect of a trip to Franklin Mills Mall. It's only about a 90 minute drive from here. I have no plans for that weekend, so it would work well for me. I suppose it is best for us to discuss that further during our phone call.

I am a bit envious of your long weekend trip to Vegas. Do enjoy yourself!


Again, I found myself fretting over her response. Here I was, telling a "stranger" - one that I'm hoping to learn more about - that talking on the phone scares me! Great … I guess I could just wear a sign around my neck proudly proclaiming "I'M A NUT JOB." I was certain this latest exchange would have her running away quickly. Instead, I received this reply:

Thanks for the nice note, LouAnne. You raised more questions than you answered, which will make for a very interesting meeting when we get together. Phone call doesn't need to last long -- we just need to verify our gender. Re; shopping...just as you admitted to a phone phobia, I have to admit to a distaste for shopping. To me, it's a necessary unpleasantness, so what I'd like to do is do our shopping separately and then get to the enjoyable part -- where we meet, have a glass of wine, maybe have some lunch and get to know each other. If it feels right and the wine goes to our heads, maybe we hit a dressing room together for a bit of preliminary exploration. Or maybe we hit it off, decide we'll meet again and leave it at that for the time being. Or...worst case scenario... We decide it wasn't meant to be. In any event, I get the feeling from our few exchanges to date that you and I could, at a minimum have a fascinating conversation. So I'm glad you're up for it.

Why don't we pencil in a date for a long, leisurely lunch at Franklin Mills on Nov.1?

You could call me for a very quick conversation tomorrow during the day, if convenient.

Talk to you soon,


The only thing standing in my way of this fascinating woman was dialing 11 digits on my cell phone. How difficult could that be? It was the longest 2 hours and 37 minutes in my recent memory.

Guest Post: Needle In The Haystack, Chapter 4

In true, Oh-my-God, did I really just stumble upon exactly what I was looking for? style, I crafted a response. I was concerned – this was the first real prospect of something more and I didn't want to screw it up. It was like being in middle school again – those same butterflies – those same insecurities rearing their ugly heads. I decided to go for a simple reply, addressing her concerns, yet letting her know I didn't see these as concerns at all.


Thank you so much for taking the time to responding to my CL post. I was quite intrigued by your response. If I'd have been even more specific with my hopes, you'd have fit them all!

I've got quite a diversified professional background. I went back to school a few years back and received my bachelor's degree in accounting. Fortunately, I was able to secure a position with a bit of flexibility and close to home, allowing me to maintain a reasonable balance between professional and family life.

I don't know that you you being in the DC area is a drawback at all. In fact, due to the need for discretion, one might consider this a bit of a bonus. You are right - the pickings are slim on Craig's List for the over 40 crowd - I really did feel I was looking for a needle in a haystack.

I am actually not from New York originally. I'm a Midwest girl - born and raised in Omaha - but life has taken me from coast to coast and now I call New York home.

I've attached a photo and I look forward to hearing from you again!


I pushed send and waited. I was concerned about the picture I sent, taken just moments before. I stood at the bottom of the staircase in our living room, still in my "business casual" attire from work. Would it come across as stuffy? Would I be what she was hoping for? Would seeing the photo keep her from responding? It had been only a one-sided exchange and yet I found myself unreasonably hopeful.

Within a few hours, there was a new message from Emma. The subject line hadn't changed – was that a good sign or a bad sign? My apprehension in opening the email was illogical. I opened it – it read:

So nice to hear from you, LouAnne. I feel as though I've already told you quite a bit about myself but here's a bit more:

I have two sons, 23 and 20. The older graduated from college last year and is working as a sales rep for He's a natural at sales as it turns out, and is loving his job. The younger is a sophomore at Georgetown University.

My husband is 20 years older than I, but is very youthful and fun. He knows nothing about this yen of mine. However, I asked him many years ago if he viewed an extramarital relationship between two women as being equivalent to a woman cheating on her husband. He said he did not so, although he doesn't know it, I'm holding him to that. He is an absolutely wonderful man. But not surprisingly, he's at the stage of life where he's less interested in going out, having new experiences, etc. Luckily, he has always been very supportive of me doing my own thing so I'd say I pretty much have the best of all worlds -- a loving husband and a lot of freedom.

I'd love to hear more about you...the course your life has taken, your current family situation, and why you feel you have this interest. If you'd rather speak by phone, you can call me at XXX-XXX-XXXX. Or you can send me your number and I'll be happy to call you.


I wasn't expecting a phone number. This was moving far more quickly than I was prepared for. I was thinking there would be a few weeks of email exchanges prior to the need to speak on the phone. Suddenly, I was feeling extremely shy and insecure. I decided to respond via email – to see if there was more that I could tell her in hopes of learning more about her.

Good Morning Emma!

Do you ever have one of those weekends where one activity spirals into another and you are actually grateful for Monday morning because you get to go back to work? Yes, I had one of those! Nothing out of the norm, just constant activity.

Let's start with a bit of family background ...

I have been married to my husband for just over 2 years, this is a second marriage for both of us. We have quite the blended family. I've got a 20 year old step-daughter (currently attending Columbia University - my husband's adopted daughter), and a 14 year old step daughter (my husband's biological daughter - she lives with her mother and we have visitation every other weekend). I have two sons from my previous marriage – one is a freshman in high school and the other is a senior.

I actually had my first sexual experience with a woman when I was 18. In my early 20's I was involved in a somewhat long-term relationship with a woman and her husband (my interest was in her, however he was aware and supportive of the relationship). I had a few more isolated experiences up until the time I got pregnant with my son. It was then that I felt I needed to identify as "heterosexual" rather than what I've always known myself to be - bi-sexual. I really do enjoy relationships with men and with women - intellectually and physically - but wasn't OK with the implications that desire would have on my son.

My husband is aware of my past and was - prior to getting married - supportive of my desires. Honestly, it's not something we've talked about since. My inkling is that he would want to be a part of that relationship and - quite frankly - this is a relationship that I would like to have independent of him.

I wasn't quite sure how to develop this type of relationship - what I'd likely classify as an intimate friendship - with a woman. I live in a very distant and small (4000 people) suburb of New York, where 75% of the families are quite traditional - dad works outside of the home - mom stays at home with the family. I work in the same suburb for the only large employer located here. It makes it difficult to pursue anything other than what is expected – a traditional 2-parent home with 1.7 children, where mom is a PTA member and attends every school function. I am already a bit of an outcast working outside of the home.

I actually wrote the CL post at the encouragement of a "cyber friend" who was aware of my desires and thought it might be an appropriate avenue. It wasn't until I read the other postings - and received some of the other responses - that I realized just how much of a needle in a haystack I was looking for and how unlikely it was that I would find such a person on CL ... and then there was your response! A wonderful, welcome surprise!

That's the Reader's Digest condensed version of where I am and how I got here. If you are still interested in continuing with exploring this friendship (and I do hope you are), please let me know and we'll arrange a time to talk on the phone!


Sunday, October 26, 2008

Guest Post: Needle In The Haystack, Chapter 3

Questions. They always make me think, especially when they are questions that I've asked myself a million times. Did I really want another woman who was in a heterosexual relationship? That was any easy one – YES! But that next part – the why – that wasn't so easy, or was it?

I knew exactly why, I'd just never said it out loud. A woman in a heterosexual relationship was safe, or at the very least, safer. You see, in my world that would mean she would have every bit as much to lose as I did if boundaries were crossed. She'd be less likely to become obsessive – her status wouldn't really allow for that type of time commitment. She'd need to hold back a bit emotionally to keep the status quo at home. In other words, she'd never be able to love me the way I deserve to be loved. Being with a woman who was already in a heterosexual relationship would allow me to test the waters before having to make a commitment to my own sexuality.

You see, when you've lived over half of your life denying who you are at the core, it's overwhelming to even consider the idea of sharing that with the world. It has the potential to impact everyone and everything you've so carefully crafted to continue the denial – from the relationship with your children and spouse, to how you are perceived by your neighbors and coworkers. Everyone is proud to say they have a lesbian friend – everyone is fascinated with the idea of kissing a girl and liking it – but to make a public statement of loving women? That takes courage that I just don't have right now. Yes, I wanted a woman who was in a heterosexual relationship – it would be easier to keep my emotions in check.

It wasn't long before responses started coming in. It wasn't an overwhelming response – more like a trickle, and what an an interesting mix.

First there was Tiffany, a married 40-something woman looking for "a gal friend, someone to be close to, get to know, hang out and have a relationship with." Her email was friendly, but also had a few spelling, punctuation and grammatical errors. Was I being a snob by being so judgmental of her writing? I wanted to be able to connect with a woman on an intellectual level. I worked hard on my Craig's List ad – I hoped to get responses that were well written and articulate. I realized this was going to be one of my primary requirements for continuing contact. I got similar type emails from several other women. I did not respond to any of them. If I was going to put myself out there, I wasn't going to settle - settling is how I ended up marrying a man.

The second email was from Julie. It was the first "negative" response I received. I was prepared for this – I know there is a bit of a hierarchy in the lesbian world – those who look down on women like me. Julie wrote:

blah blah blah Jesus im surprised your husband has not left you lol you want to play shut up ask for my number be ready to meet and play if not go to a chat room

Needless to say, I didn't respond to Julie, and I held my breath in hopes that I'd not get any additional responses like hers.

There was Stephanie, another married woman who shared my desires and background. She was well "spoken" and we exchanged a few emails. She sent a photo in her second email of her at a company picnic. She had a cigarette in her hand. That was a deal breaker. Superficial? Maybe, but I just couldn't see myself getting past that.

Melissa responded, and there were several proverbial red flags in her email. One of her first questions was "What is your race?" Again, I understand that we all have preferences, but when that is the first question I read I start wondering if this is someone who might be closed-minded about many things. Additionally, she was single, childless and wanted "regularity and accessibility." She was also quite sexually explicit in her initial response to my ad. I'm not a prude by any stretch of the imagination, but when you've not taken the time to get to know me and your email states that you like, "getting my pussy ate and breast sucked," I'm a little taken aback. Although the physical aspect of this potential relationship is important to me, it isn't where I want to start. DELETE.

Then there was Sue, who turned out to be a bot, trolling for folks to log on to a singles XXX site to see her photos. I didn't access the link, but I have no doubt I'd have needed to join the site, pay a fee, and would never have found Sue.

Maybe I really was looking for some unrealistic ideal – being too picky. My intro on the ad, "Looking for a needle in a haystack," was meant to be an attention getter. I was starting to believe it was a premonition … that is until I received a response from Emma.

Emma. If I'd have hand picked a respondent for my ad I couldn't have done any better. Her first email was articulate, eloquent and contained just enough information that I wanted more. She was within my age range, a professional, married with grown children and exploring her sexuality – owning up to what she had always felt. Although her experience with women was limited, she was honest and upfront about what she hoped to find. Better still? She considered me educated and refined. She had only one concern – geography.

Emma wrote:

How nice to see an ad from someone in my age range. I'm a happily married, full-time professional with two grown children. Have been drawn to the idea of being intimate with another woman for decades, but acted on this desire for the first time only recently. It was a wonderful experience that I'd love to repeat.

I'm 45, but still youthful in appearance...5'6", size 10, 34C, short blonde hair, pretty face. Spent most of my career working for large corporations, most recently as head of worldwide logistics. Several years ago, I established a consulting practice, focusing mainly on management training.

The drawback is that I live in the Washington, DC area. But in my limited experience with Craigslist, it seems the pickings are so slim when it comes to educated, refined women over 40, that it's worth reaching out even when the geography is challenging. I'm a New York area native and I do get down to your area regularly.

Photo is attached. Sorry it's so small; it's the only way it will fit the CL file size limit. If you'd like to discuss this further, I'd appreciate a photo and additional information on

Hope to hear from you,


Friday, October 24, 2008

Guest Post: Needle In The Haystack, Chapter 2

Months pass. There was a chance cyber meeting with someone, a man, who read my blog. A wonderful cyber lover friendship quickly ensued. Boundaries were established and agreed to, and just as quickly crossed and forgotten. One night, during a little D/s role play via chat, he instructed me to write a Craig's List Ad to search for the woman I wanted – needed – to satisfy my emotional and sexual needs. He would approve it before I posted it. He would be part of the selection process. His interest in me finding this woman – this needle in a haystack – was selfless. He didn't want a part of the actual intimacies, but rather he wanted the opportunity to help me fulfill my long denied desires. Forty-eight hours later, I posted the following:

Married, bi female looking for the proverbial needle in the haystack. It's been 20 years since I was involved in a physical relationship with another woman and I miss it. I sold my soul to the expectations of society and family – married – had children – live in suburban "bliss". Now, in my mid-forties, I realize that I gave up a piece of myself, a piece that I want back. I won't be leaving my husband and my family, but I will, once again, explore the feminine intimacies I so dearly miss.

I am intelligent, educated, articulate, attractive and femme - height/weight proportionate. My interests are varied. I am just as thrilled to have a discussion surrounding politics or religion as I am talking about the great recipe I just found for a Tomato and Mozzarella Frittata. I am fit and physically active.

You should be emotionally mature and relatively drama free (we all have a bit of drama, don't we?), preferably between 35 and 50. I hope to find a woman in a similar situation, one who understands the importance of discretion in this type of relationship, one who appreciates the attention, the touch, the kiss of a woman. Maybe we start with a few emails, a phone call or coffee, and then see where things go.

Please, no men or couples - I am looking for an exclusive, intimate female friendship. A (tasteful) photo of you will get the same of me in return.

I immediately had posters remorse. What if no one answered the ad? What if someone did? What if somehow my anonymity was compromised? What if one of my children's schoolmates mother answered the ad? Was I crazy?

I was in such a panic that I sent all of the questions, along with a copy of the ad, to the only friend I knew could possibly understand. She assured me that I wasn't crazy (my foremost concern), but had some concerns as well.

She felt I was looking for someone just like me and questioned just how realistic that was. She wondered if I really did want another woman who was in a heterosexual relationship. And if I did, why? What if I fell in love? Was I ready for those consequences? Would I possibly prefer a one-night stand (a much easier and less complicated solution)? Now my head was really spinning.

Thursday, October 23, 2008

Guest Post: Needle In The Haystack, Chapter 1

I thought you all might enjoy a little strange. I've persuaded one of my friends to guest post about a time in her life that was very interesting to me. I'm always intrigued by straight women and how they wander to the other side. How they do it. Why they do it. The intricacies of maneuvering around a husband, children, family and friends to find the life that they want for themselves. It's sometimes a life that they've only dreamed about.

When my friend told me this story, I asked her to write it out so that I could tell you. I know that we now have two stories going on here, but you're a smart crowd. Come on, it's gonna be fun!

I'd been thinking about it a lot the past 2 years – how much I missed the intimacy of a woman. I really thought I had put it all behind me. I firmly believed that my experiences throughout my 20's were nothing more than sexual exploration.

Then I met her on a "mommy" email list. She was intelligent, witty and in much the same circumstances as me. She was married, with three children, her husband knew of her attraction to women, but was clear that he would not allow her to pursue a relationship with a woman while they were married. She opted, instead, to have a lesbian affair - one that had ended quite some time ago. I wanted to be her next.

We would see each other every other month or so. I would travel to her home, visit with her kids and her husband, all the while my heart aflutter. I'd look at her, then have to avert my gaze downward just knowing that my desires would be evident if I looked at her any longer. There were times, when we'd sit on the sofa next to each other, our bodies "accidentally" touching, where I had to focus on something other than the touch so that I wouldn't take her right there in front of the kids. I wanted her – emotionally, intellectually, and physically.

This cat and mouse game continued for close to a year, never even resulting in a kiss. Maybe she tired of my inability to initiate the physical contact. Maybe I tired of not having the guts to do what my heart so badly wanted. We never discussed why it ended – the visits just stopped. She stopped reading my blog. She stopped writing her blog. She was no longer available on IM. I missed her. I wondered if she missed me.

Wednesday, October 22, 2008

4: Sunday, July 9th, 2006

I grew up in the Baptist church that was just down the street from our house. It was a place that I could be alone with my thoughts amidst plenty of people. Stay and talk if I wanted to, slip out the back if I didn't. We had a very relaxed preacher with a storytelling style that knew how to reach into my skull. I miss having someone...not preach to me, but lecture me a little. Make me think about things differently, more lovingly.

Sherri asked me a few days ago if I'd ever been to the "gay church." She's been wanting to go, but Lisa works on Sundays and she doesn't want to go alone. I had been to Nashville's "gay church" before with my ex, but she didn't like it there. She didn't like the preacher. They pray too much. My old friend that she thought drank too much attended there with her partner.

Not wanting to sit at home all day waiting for the phone to ring, I call Sherri to see if she wants to meet me and hop into the shower. I put on the cute shirt that I bought yesterday, swirls of blue and chartreuse, jeans that are getting too loose, sexy heels and head out.

Sherri arrives just after the music starts and we sit quietly through the sermon. Churches always make me sad. They remind me of the deaths in my family. Of my grandmother's wrinkled hands holding a tissue, reaching into her purse for a mint and then snapping it shut. Today, I need a tissue as emotions bubble to the surface and pop out of my eyes.

After church, we head to the mall where Lisa works to meet her for lunch. Lisa walks up, smiling from ear to ear and hugs me, "Has Mandy called you yet?"

"No...I'm wondering if my cell phone is broken!"

"Don't worry, rumor has it that she just broke up with her fiance. They were going to get married next month. Her ex sent her an email telling her that their wedding was off. That's email. It hit her pretty hard."

I pick at my lunch, "Oh. That's really bad news for me, isn't it? Think they'll get back together?"

Pointing at me with a french fry, "Oh no, I think it's over. She's just hurt. It may take her some time to get back into the game. But it was obvious that she wanted you to be at the party!"

"Don't you worry, I'll be there." Off I drift, thinking of how she will be enamored of me at the party. She will start calling me just to say 'hi". She can't get enough of me.

"What do you want to bring?" Sherri snaps me out of my fantasy by reminding me that I would help her with the food for the party. Of course, I have my motives. I'm a good cook. Ms. Right might notice something tasty.

I had probed Mandy about her likings when we were whispering head to head at the bar talking about me helping Sherri with the party. She smiled, "Do you cook?"

"Of course, I do! What's your favorite dish?"

Macaroni and cheese.

I begin to weave my web.

Well baby, you're going to get the best macaroni and cheese that you've ever put in your mouth! I would tell you all about it if you would just call me.

Tuesday, October 21, 2008

3: Saturday, July 8th, 2006

It's Saturday morning and my ex calls. She's living four doors down and she "needs something" from the house. She "needs something" several times a day, so I can't quite understand why she doesn't just move the rest of her things.

"Why are you in such a good mood?" She always has to sit down and talk for a few minutes and I can tell that she's irritated that I'm not pitiful.

Smiling and sleepy, I curl up on the couch with my cappuccino and adjust my green silk nightie. "I went out with friends last night and had a fantastic time. Met some new people that play on the Dream and met a really cute girl. I even wrote my phone number on her stomach with a Sharpie! "

I thought that she'd be happy that I was getting out. Instead she told me that I need to be careful how I act in public or people might think that I am a whore. She leaves and I feel icky inside.

Determined not to let her ruin my mood, I decide to go shopping for some new clothes since I've lost some weight. I make sure to keep my phone close, so that Mandy can call and ask me to do something fun.

It doesn't ring.

When it does ring, it's not her.

I can't help thinking about her.

I'm so happy that I'm not dead inside like I thought. I could still be happy. I could still have a lover. I am still alive.

She'll probably call tomorrow.

Wednesday, October 15, 2008

2: Friday Night, July 7th, 2006

I settle on a pair of jeans, a psychedelic knit shirt reminiscent of the '70s and some single strap, high heeled Candies. Looking as cute as I possibly can, I head for South Street in Downtown Nashville.

Shit. I'm too early. I perch on the bench outside. It's warm, but breezy and I people watch for the next quarter hour until a short, butch girl approaches me.

"Are you Gwen?"

"That's me!"

"I'm Diane."

I would love to intrigue you with the clever conversation that followed, but there was none. No chemistry. No "bings" as an old ex would call them. Not one single attempt of conversation by me was met by anything other than one word responses. We struggle through dinner conversation with me, Sherri and Lisa doing most of the talking.

"Let's go to the Lounge. I'm supposed to meet a couple of girls that I play football with." Off we go, thankfully leaving Diane to go about her evening.

As we walk into the bar, I see a long table full of women having a wonderful time to my right. Just feet from the stage. Lisa makes a bee-line for that table.

Lisa says, "Everybody, this is my girlfriend Sherri and our new friend Gwen!" I settle in between Carly, a cute prematurely grey woman and Sherri, thankful to be beside someone that will talk. Sherri doesn't know Carly either, but suddenly we are all three fast friends. We clink beer bottles, laugh and talk. We all three dance together. I forget everything but the moment.

A cute, butch girl in a black t-shirt walks up and is introduced as Carly's girlfriend's sister, Mandy. Lisa, in her loudest voice to be heard over the music that is blasting, invites her to the party next weekend. Mandy says, "Sure, I'd love to come, but make sure 'Dimples' is going to be there!"

Oh dear God, she's referring to me. To ME! She wants ME to come to the party. She's cute and she's interested in me. I blush and can't stop the dimples. I hate blushing. It betrays me every time.

Mandy walks away, but soon she's back and standing behind me talking to her sister, Ashley on the other side of Carly. I turn around, smiling at her, I pat my knee, "Wanna sit down?" I put my hand on her back and start the slow circling that most women enjoy. We chatted with everyone at the table and she leaves saying, "I'll be back."

Lisa buys a round of shots and dear God, I need one! My ex isn't even moved out completely and I can't keep my eyes off of Mandy. I'm incredibly drawn to her. We're all dancing and laughing and Carly asks for my number. She and her girlfriend go out a lot and would love to see us all again.

We can't find a pen, but someone has a Sharpie. I write my phone number on Carly's rock hard stomach. Gotta love the athletes! Again, there's Mandy right behind me. I turn to her, pull up her shirt and in permanent ink scribble my number on her flat stomach. Obviously, I've had enough to drink.

After more dancing and another round or two of shots, it's getting late and the table starts to scatter. I move to the door with them and suddenly Mandy's right in front of me. "Hey Dimples, don't leave yet, I've barely had a chance to talk to you." Lisa and Sherri hear her and cannot contain their smiles and raised eyebrows as they walk out.

I sit back down at the empty table with Mandy. I tell her that I can't stay long. I have a diabetic dog at home and I can't leave her for much longer. "What kind?" A rottie mix. She shows me pics of her dogs on her phone. Same breed. Cute puppies. A fellow dog lover. I would love to keep talking, but it's time to leave.

"Let me walk you to your car."

As we head out the front door, I am so flustered that I turn the wrong way when she asks me where I parked. We walk half a block to the East before I realize that I parked on the West side. Turning around, she asks me where I live. "Murfreesboro...ah, no, I used to live in the 'boro, now I live in Hermitage."

Geez, I sound like a bumbling fool. This woman has me turned upside down! She's going to think that I'm an idiot.

Arriving at my car, she tells me to be careful and hugs me goodbye. I swoon and smile all the way home.

Friday, October 10, 2008

1: Happy, Happy Fourth of July

Let's backtrack a tad, okay? Because this day is really when my life changed and I'd rather start here. I'm not really a time-line kinda gal. It's one of my nuances!

It's the fourth of July and I finally meet Sherri, the girl that I've been talking to on online for the past two weeks. A brunette hottie with a fantastic personality. She had moved to town a few months before with her partner who had joined the Nashville Dream women's football team. Sherri doesn't have any friends. I have a handful. We are a match made in heaven! Two girly girls that want to have fun!

Except I haven't been having any. Especially today. My ex is having a 4th of July party just four doors down in her front yard. It's spilling into the street with football games and obvious fun.

I've been hanging out all day with Julie, who is living with me for a short while. She needs a place to stay as much as I need the company. She is a godsend. When I am too pitiful to even speak, she cooks me dinner, regales me with her stories and keeps me mind off of my ex. Today, her main objective is to keep me busy and stop me from looking out the window at my ex's party. An exceptionally hard task as my front window faces the event.

As much as it was a relief to finally be rid of my ex, it was also extremely painful to extricate myself from a life that I'd known for so long. And so I cried. A lot. It was a different cry than the one that I'd been crying almost every day for years. That was a slow, one tear of sadness falling slowly, cry. This cry was full-on, run to your bedroom and plant your face into the pillow for an hour cry. I was so confused.

How could I miss someone that made me cry everyday? How could I miss someone that I hated? Why was I missing someone that had cut me to the core with her vicious words and had hit me with her hands? Why couldn't my heart understand how much better off I was? My head gets it. What the hell is wrong with me?!

As darkness falls, Sherri calls. She's turning into my subdivision. I haven't been this excited in years. I have a new friend. Someone that really likes me. Thinks I'm funny and charming. Someone that wants to be my friend.

Sherri walks in wearing her hair up and boyishly dressed. Except it's obvious that she's femme. A girly girl in disguise. Her makeup is perfect. Her bra pushes up perfectly. Wearing boy shorts, a tee and sandals, she hugs me as she walks past with a cooler packed with cold wines and beer. We settle in for the evening.

I feel like I have known Sherri forever. She's funny and beautiful, but the most attractive thing about her is that she likes me. The only reason that she is sitting in my big leather chair is because she's enjoying my company. It's the first time in an eternity that I've known for sure that someone likes me.

The next day, Sherri emails me. Lisa's football team is coming over next Saturday night for a party and I'm invited. An entire party full of lesbians. Hot, ripped, athletic women. Women that like to have sex with other women. Would I like to join them? But first, she invites me to go to dinner with them this Friday night to meet a single friend of theirs.

I'll see you at 7:30pm Friday night at South Street, she writes.

I can barely contain myself.

Thursday, October 9, 2008

Everything and Nothing

Chat with her online for right now, my friends say.
Don't give her your email address.
Don't give her your phone number.
What if she's an ax murderer?

After three days of chatting online, she had piqued my curiosity. Clever and smart. Funny and sophisticated. Ever the smart ass. I immediately like her. She will not let up about giving her my number. She hates to type. Give her a break, she says.

What harm can come from talking on the phone? She promises that my phone is going to ring shortly.

Immediately, my phone rings with a Georgia number. And quits after one ring. Odd.

I ring back the same number.

"I only said your phone would ring. I didn't say I was going to talk to you!"

The nerve! She made me call her.

For the first time I hear her voice. Deep and sexy with just a hint of having lived most of her life in the South after growing up in the North. Her voice turns me to mush.

She pursues me, when all I want to do is date. After ten years with the same woman, I think I deserve a little strange. I'm not ready for a serious relationship.

She continues to call every day.

Sometimes, I let the phone ring even though ever fiber of my being wants to answer it. What could she want? She calls my other number. She emails. Within a few minutes, the weak and curious me gives in and I call her back.

"I just wanted to say hi", she engages me. She wanted to know how my day was going. For God's sake, it's a Tuesday! Nothing's going. It's just the same old boring day doing the same old things. And yet, I felt that spark. Like something was going on.

We would end up talking for hours about everthing and nothing.

Tuesday, October 7, 2008


Will not be tolerated. ***you'll have to read the comments in the last post to catch up

If you don't like what I write, perhaps you shouldn't read my blog. I didn't ask you to come here. You and Vicki can stop with the made up blog identities, so that you can comment with an identical opinion like you do on other blogs. I have a statistics program and even if I didn't, you lived with me. I know your tactics, because you told me about them. About how you stalk your ex and use his information to break into his private emails and his I understand what lengths you will go to.

The reason that my ex doesn't paint me in a negative light is because I didn't abuse her. How is THAT for a simple answer?

She hit me in the face so hard that I slammed against the door frame and slid to the floor. On my birthday. Can you name what I have done that matches this?

I am rid of the bully that I refer to as my ex-the-redneck (whose name I did not post, you did) and have new people in my life, I know what real friends feel like. They aren't petty and hateful. They don't run behind your back and talk about you.

I have a lot of real life friends. I know exactly how lucky I am to have such a full life, so I'm fortunate in that I can choose who I let into my life.

I have a lot of virtual friends. You can count them in my numbers of readers, commenters and page visits. I have no idea why they find me so interesting and continue to read and be kind. But I'm glad they do. I love them all. I feel like I know them. Like they know me.

I know that you've told my ex about my blog, so that once again she can stalk me (again with the technical ISP stuff). This is my private blog. You both knew that. I consider what you've done to be a betrayal. And no, I won't stop. I'll talk about who I want, when I want.

You are nothing but a bully and I won't play your games.

But It Wasn't Always This Way

When I was with my ex-the-redneck, I had no friends. None, according to her.

Everyone was her friend.

Looking back, I had a ton of friends when I met her. A group of between 10 and 20 of us would go out every weekend for dinner at our favorite gay restaurant/bar, The World's End. We would always have a table at the front. Full of beauties! Or they would come to Jean's house where I lived with my girlfriend. We'd have a deck full of women eating homemade ice cream after a softball game. Or drinking margaritas after an impromptu football game in the back yard.

As our relationship progressed, slowly she found something wrong with each of them. She didn't like this one. That one was a drunk. Eventually, because she wouldn't go with me to the outings, they stopped calling me. I can't blame them. It all happened so slowly, so insidiously, I barely noticed.

I became a shell of my former self with her. Instead of the party organizer, I became the maid and cook for her parties. I can't tell you how low I was. Many times, I would be in tears moments before we arrived at a restaurant to have dinner with her friends because of her screaming fits or her driving threats to wreck the car and kill us both. When she didn't scream because my family was in the house, she would whisper in such a threatening tone, that it still chills me to think about it.

This morning, I had a dream about her. One of the venting dreams as my therapist calls them. We were in a doorway and she had her arms around my head smothering me. I couldn't move. I couldn't scream although I tried.

It was horrifying and left me with such an ill feeling today.

Never again. Never again.

Monday, October 6, 2008

The Completely Clothed Sunset Porch Party

A Water Drinker
Three ...make that Four Whatever Wine Drinkers (I almost forgot about the girlfriend du jour of my best friend)
One Bud Light Drinker
One Bacardi Drinker
One Fancy Dancy Modelo Drinker
One wine drinker that couldn't make it because she's important at Vanderbilt Hospital and had to work all night putting people to sleep....well, under as they say.
Two wine drinkers that didn't make it because they found a beagle hit by a car on the way and rushed him to the Doggie ER and then themselves to the ER due to a bite wound.

I have THE BEST friends.

There's no jealousy. There's no favorites to sit next to at the table. Everyone has a great sense of humor. No backstabbing talk about any of the others or anyone at all. No bitterness. No anger. No cattiness.

Our salaries range from $30,000 to $300, 000 a year. Yet, there are no money issues. If we love you and you can't afford it, you'll be taken care of on our Grande Vegas Vacation planned for next year when one of us turns 50 (you'd never believe it!), my best friend turns 40 and my girlfriend turns 46. July is going to be a blast!

Last year when I had an acute reaction to the wine I was drinking (aka, I got smashed before dinner), they finished cooking dinner, didn't cut me off, prepped a decadent Salted Caramel Cheesecake that I'd cooked the day before, cleaned up the dishes and put me to bed.

We all pitch in regularly for dinner. One of us will cook the main course, the other that cook will bring a dish. If you don't cook, it's not a problem, you can bring the flowers, a cheeseball or nothing at all.

We laughed so loudly on my sunset porch, that I was afraid the neighbors would call the police. We howled with Isaac and sang his songs. We clinked glasses. Passed around the phone to see the nekkid titty pics of a new friend that couldn't make it. Tell stories. Laugh. Drink. Repeat.

We didn't get nekkid, but we did have a fantastic time!

We kissed goodbye and will wait two weeks for it to happen again. I am so lucky!

If you've not stopped by Cynical Bastard yet, pop on over. He's vlogged a toast to my "gettin' of the ring!" Stop by and say "Hola, bitches" to Jay. What a big softie! ;)

Friday, October 3, 2008

Butches Around The World Will Weep

I had such a wonderful birthday with friends calling, texting and emailing their birthday wishes, that I'd almost forgotten about the presents waiting for me at home from my love.

When I drive up, she is still outside, sweaty from working on the landscaping. She walks in, hugs and kisses me and wishes me Happy Birthday for the fourth time.

Three presents WRAPPED (this is an achievement in and of itself!) sit on the chair beside the couch. One small, one medium, one large.

The medium one was first. It's a gorgeous wooden platter with two matching wooden bowls. A gift from her mother. They were shopping back in the Spring and had found it while on a family trip to Florida. My goodness, these people plan ahead!

I open the smallest package to find a pair of diamond earrings. Mmm...perfect! I love earrings! She knew she couldn't go wrong there!

For the largest, she asks that I sit down on the couch. I unwrap the box to find a large gift bag with tons of paper.

I pull out a mound of paper to find another gift bag, only smaller, stuffed with more paper and a card. She grabs the card and tells me it's not time yet.

Yet another bag is inside this bag. But it's tiny.

She tells me to wait and hands me the card. Inside, it says:

Remember Boothbay?

As I reach into the tiny bag, I know that it's a ring box. I worked in a jewelry store in college. Nothing else is shaped like that box. I open the box to find a gold ring.

I look up and she's on her knee to my right holding my grandmother's diamond ring that I never wear.

It fits perfectly into the gold jacket that she had made to match hers that holds her grandmother's diamond ring.

"Will you spend your life with me as my partner?"

I nodded as I buried my face into her neck.

Wednesday, October 1, 2008

The Nekkid Pool Party

Apparently, and I say this with utter dismay because I remember so little of it, I proceeded to get smashed two weeks ago with my best friends... first at a Sex Toy Bachelorette Party and then... at a bar.

I rarely drink to excess. My girlfriend should have known that I was smashed when I ordered almost $200 worth of sex toys and hung out with the stripper that everyone else thought was obnoxious. I thought she was funny.

During my drunken evening, I thought that a Nekkid Pool Party to celebrate my birthday would be fun. Also that evening, I thought drinking my wine from a straw would help, since I'd just spilled it on my blouse. Surely there's a problem with my lips that a straw will fix.

No one stopped me. No one thought perhaps, I'd had plenty to drink. No one said, hey, she's probably kidding about the Nekkid Pool Party.

I vaguely remember all of this. I do remember laughing and having a fabulous time! I invited everyone. Even a few people that I didn't know. My friends just laughed and let me plan.

I should have called it The Hard Nipple Party...because it's gonna be cold here in TN on Saturday!

I Woke Up To Long Dark Curls Feathering My Face

To sweet kisses. To I love yous. The only thing that could make it better would be a Paint and Spackle birthday cake for breakfast! German chocolate, please!

My first birthday present of the morning is a load of dirt from my parents. Sifted. Good dirt, my mother says. For my flower beds. And that my friends is how you know that you've gotten old!

I'm 43 and I received DIRT for my birthday!