sunny blizzard

I decide I would like to start dating again. I am shocked at myself, but glad. I ask everyone I know where they met their significant other. They almost all say 'online dating'. I think about it for a couple of months and give it a shot. Within two weeks I start emailing a really funny and interesting guy. A month or two later, we meet in person and I immediately feel comfortable with him. I am shocked at myself, but glad. We hit it off and spend all kinds of time together. I have new rules for myself and relationships. I believe they will serve me well. With Al, I really have nothing to worry about. And wow. He rocks my world. Hanging out is good. Talking is good. Learning about each other's interests is good. Sex is good. Holy crap, it can be good! I can actually feel desire for someone. I have the space and the respect to actually feel desire for someone!! I get to choose whether I want sex or not and what can be hotter than that?? It's amazing. Absolutely amazing. I

I'm finally divorced. I hate men. I hate men. I hate men. For three years I avoid all contact with men. I hate them. I do not trust them. I do a lot of thinking and learning and growing. I get a great job but panic a bit at the thought of working with men. It turns out alright. Except for one guy who has a tendency to yell and swear on the phone sometimes (not to me, I overhear it), which freaks me the hell out. I learn that he's a decent guy and his yelling and swearing is about him, not me. I put on a good face and no one has a clue. Funny that. How many people do you interact with every day have that mask that hides everything. Everyone thinks everything is great and normal. There is so much hurt out there. I wish men could understand this. This. This is why so many women are 'careful', and 'hesitant'. We don't know which kind of guy you are.

I'm married. The counselor just does. not. get. it. Her solution for us is this: He has to try a little harder to be nice to me. I have to initiate sex a certain number of times per week. What. The. Hell.

I'm married. It's just rape. I fucking hate him. He forces me to fuck him. I grit my teeth and do the things that I know will get it over with sooner. He, in his arrogance, thinks I'm doing it for him. When I have the strength to resist, he screams at me for hours, literally 2,3,4 hours. I'm a bitch. Why can't I show him how much I love him? I'm selfish. I'm cold. I need to have sex with him to prove how much I love him. But I don't, I hate him. The kids can surely hear this. It's 2 am and they are in bed.

I'm married. I've given birth four weeks ago, by C-section. Major surgery. He insists we have sex, by this time I'm too afraid of him to say anything. It hurts. Doctors advise no sex for 6-8 weeks after giving birth. When I supply this information at a counseling session, he looks at me and asks why I didn't say anything.

I am married He starts yelling at me one day because he 'left me alone for one day and I didn't initiate sex'. He was testing me. What I had felt that day was "thank god he's leaving me alone."

I'm married. He fondles and gropes all day long. He is full of sexual innuendo. He wants sex all the time. I was never taught that I could say no, or how to say no. I find strange passive-aggressive ways to avoid it. I stay up really late, knowing that when I go to bed he'll want to have sex. Sometimes I enjoy it. Sometimes I endure it.

I've recently begun dating my eventually -to-be husband. I indicate an interest in sex. He bursts out with "Is that all that matters to you, getting laid?????" He does it anyway. Am I supposed to feel ashamed?

Fourteen years old. I ride my bike to a local park and find a bench to sit on. I enjoy the beautiful sunshine, the lake in front of me, I feel really good. A man rides up on his bike and lays out his towel about 100 feet in front of me. He lays down with his legs facing me. I can see his penis and testicles. I am embarrassed for him. I am embarrassed for myself. I eventually leave, my day ruined. It is years before I realize he did this on purpose.

Thirteen years old. I ride my bike around a LOT. As I wait on a corner for traffic to pass, a guy yells out the window "Get some clothes on!!" I have on shorts and a bikini top. Too many times to count I hear, "Nice ass!!" "Wanna fuck?" and various whistles and obscene gestures.

Eleven years old. I'm walking down the hallway at school. A boy reaches out and grabs my breast, hard, as he smirks at me. I look down and keep walking, shocked. I don't tell anyone. Nothing will happen. It's not the last time.

Ten years old. Walking home from school with my friend. We have our arms flung around each other. Middle schoolers walk behind us, calling out "Lezzies!! You are lezzies!!" We glance at each other guiltily and when it seems like the right moment, we 'casually' take our arms down and keep walking.

~E~ Imagine that, Walgreens has a huge ' sexual wellness ' section. Sex toys galore. Have fun shopping. I prefer "A Woman's Touch" , myself. I dare you not to click on the links.

~E~ I thought I knew how to be straightforward. I thought I was getting a good handle on how to communicate well. I was apparently all wrong.