*My genitals, myself
After a couple weeks of kumbaya blog posts about happiness other than the kind found down ones pants (still warm and wiggling important stuff), we now return to our regularly scheduled debauchery. Good old fashioned chat about bumping uglies. Blogger Aileen posted last week regarding a question often directed to ladies of a certain age (never you randy bachelors, regardless of how low the ball sack is hanging):
"Soooooo, why is it that you've never been married?"
No big surprise (?) I think marriage is an antiquated idea, based upon property rights (whether cow, beans, land or genitals) but with a caveat; if one is absolutely intent on or desires to breed, marriage and/or partnership is optimal. Just don’t hit your kids or ignore them. Or fuck around (more on that later). Yet there are bits and pieces and baubles of marriage (not love, two different animals) I find engaging and sometimes wonder if I'm missing out on. Although I’m not known to wear jewelry other than large bangle-like silver hoops, a ring would be a lovely token, an “I choo-choo-choose you." Art deco or estate, nothing pave and solitaire and soldered together in a hot metal swirl. Or to pick a song for the first dance floor twirl as Mr. And Mrs. At one time I wanted to get married only because I’d decided between either The Association’s “Cherish” or “Oh My Love” by John Lennon, the latter total sap. And so awesome.
But this isn’t about the tulle and creamy filling.
Single is not a fail. And enough with the condescending idea that those never married (or who don't wish to be) can’t possibly comprehend what it’s like to be part of committed duo. Some things you just know, like chewing on a cat turd won’t taste anything like a Tootsie Roll. And I know that when you sign up for and agree to ever-after, you're true blue and stuck like glue. Meaning no wandering genitals. Sexuality is one thing, temptation another yet. And commitment the thorny side of the triangle. Explore and talk about sexuality within a marriage or any relationship. But when placing your parts into or around another parts includes less than full disclosure or lying or secrets that's a fail.
Single isn't a lifetime "Get Out Of Jail Free" pass, mind you.
Months into dating the manfriend, I broached the idea of keeping my 12-years-younger-Kennedyesque-physical-only fling. He didn't go for it, then or when I brought it up again later. We’re good, he’s a good man for stating it. The still occasional text from the fling is delightfully tempting, but it’s also merely penetration and copulation and I have good stuff over here. Doesn't mean the topic of flunging may not rear its head again (dirty). And we'll talk.
Success or fail? Truthful or hurtful?
Chicken or fish?