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Hi, everyone! I am 6 years divorced (well, separated actually…my divorce is finally going through its final stages) and I started writing a book of my post-divorce/post-separation sex and dating adventures! I'm still writing it, even though I am no longer single–I am happily partnered with the most amazing dad-to-be. (We are expecting a baby girl in October!) However, having just stumbled upon this group through one of the Divorced Women's pods, I thought I'd offer my stories to everyone here.
The stories are meant to inspire, support, and make you laugh out loud during this time of readjusting to single life again. Certainly, I am writing them from my point-of-view, so more of my female friends have been able to relate, but my male friends truly enjoy them too! So please, read away! The first one I'm posting is called “Learning to Have Sex.” I will post the same stories here as I do on my personal blog and the divorced women's group, by the way…
Because footnotes can't be used here, I have used asterisks (*). Sorry, but you'll have to scroll all the way to the bottom to read the footnotes. Also, I've changed names, places, and times to protect and hide the folks involved… I hope you enjoy it!
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“LEARNING HOW TO HAVE TEXT”
Thank God for Dick. If it weren’t for him, I’d never know how to text message. I was one of the last people in Los Angeles to own a cell phone, and after a year of having one, all I had figured out how to do was scroll through the phone book and speed dial.* But then good old Dick entered my life and poked a little fun into my post-divorce cell-phone virginity.
So there I was, six months after my ex-husband and I had split up, hand-delivering a package to my boss Mike who was having an informal meeting in a rather large conference hall. As I was leaving, a tall, handsome man appeared before me. Dick. The attraction was obvious and the flirting immediate. We did the obligatory chit-chat as two people drawn to one another must.
“So, you’re from Mike’s office?” he asked.
“Yes, and you?”
“From LKP. We’re going to be over here for the rest of the week, finishing the plans for Marketing.”
“That’s great!”
“It is?”
“I mean…yeah, sure. That’s great.”
And I left.
The next day, in hopes of having to hand-deliver another package to my boss, I wore as short a skirt as was allowed by professional standards and do-me-in-my-stiletto-heels heels that would never be allowed by professional standards. Luckily, my outfit did not go to waste. I sauntered and swayed myself into the conference hall and Dick was there. I came, he saw, I conquered.**
As I was leaving, Dick practically sprinted to me as eager as a schoolboy, asking if he could text me.
“Text? I don’t know how to text.”
“Really? It’s easy. Just hit reply when you get my text message and write something back to me.”
So I gave him my number and left.
Not even ten seconds passed and my cell started to beep and buzz. I pulled the phone out of my purse, and there it was, my very first text message.
< You are beautiful >
Blushing,*** I hit ‘reply’ and laboriously wrote a message back. A complete texting newbie, I didn’t know that my phone had the intelligence to guess the word I was trying to write.
< Thanks >
Within seconds, the beep-buzz happened again.
< What are you doing after work? >
It took me five minutes to respond, not because I didn’t know what to say, but because I couldn’t figure out how to input a space between the words. Finally, I sent him:
< Going home with you >
Now before I go on, I want to be clear. I would never in a million years be that forward and that easy, BUT 1) I had just split up with my husband and 2) I hadn’t had sex for a few months and 3) I was trying out a new me, and well, 4) Dick was HOT. He was Smith in “Sex and the City”, James Dean, and Denzel Washington, all in one. He was the perfect post-divorce booty call. I knew it and all I wanted to know from him was whether or not he would be able and willing to fulfill my need. My text message, <Going home with you>, made that abundantly clear, and his reply made his availability clear.
< Meet me outside at 6 >
We went straight to his place and tore each other’s clothes off and had anything-goes sex in every way possible. But we didn’t kiss. He reserved kissing for his heart relationships, not his sex relationships. I was absolutely not interested in getting into anything but bed with this guy, so all sexing and no kissing was perfect with me.
He asked if I was into threesomes. Good Lord, I thought, I just got out of seven years of monogamy. When would I have ever even thought of a threesome, much less gotten ‘into’ threesomes?**** I told him that I’d consider a threesome with another man. After a moment of thought, he suggested a foursome – two men and two women. I would pick the woman and he would pick the man, and as long as we approved of each other’s picks, we were good to go. I agreed to the plan.
He started to tell me about his parents and his sister, and that’s when I got up to leave. If he was going to be a good little booty call, then he had to abide by the rules and tell me nothing more than his name, address, and phone number. Bad enough, I knew where he worked.
So I left and went to Keisha’s house, where I had been living since I left my husband.***** I told her everything. She loved it and cheered me on for having such fearlessness and aggression in taking a lover. Then the beep-buzz came.
< What r u doing? >
I showed Keisha the text message. We laughed that girlhood laugh that women laugh only when we’re with our girlfriends. I spoke aloud as I wrote my response, “Hanging out with-”
“No!” Keisha said. “Tell him you’re getting naked!”
We laughed and I did it.
< Getting naked >
Seconds went by and then:
< R u touching urself? >
Keisha and I laughed again. From then on, we discussed every response before I sent it.
< Yes, I’m squeezing my nipples and playing with my clit >
< Ooh, baby. tell me more! >
“Oh my God! What do I say?”
“Tell him you’re sticking your vibrator in, pretending it was his huge, erect cock!”
“I don’t have a vibrator!”
“Just do it!”
< I’m sticking my vibrator in me, pretending it’s your huge, erect cock >
< Mmmm, my huge cock loves ur wet pussy. I want 2 put things inside u >
“Put things inside you? Like what?”
“I don’t know!”
“Well, ask him!”
< Like what, lover? >
< I wanna put chocolate sauce in your twat and suck it out with a straw >
Keisha and I were in hysterics.
< What else, baby? >
< I wanna put my dinger in your anus as I eat you out >
“Dinger? What the hell is a dinger?”
< Finger, that is >
Keisha said, “Tell him you want to put things inside him too!”
< I want to put things in you too >
< Tell me what u wanna put in me >
< I wanna put a handkerchief in your anus and pull it out slowly as you cum in my mouth >
< Yes! What else? >
< I wanna put my pearl necklace in you and then you can give me one >
< I am sooooo turned on! What else? >
“What else? Isn’t that enough?”
“He’s into getting things put up his butt! Tell him you’ll put a cucumber in him!”
< I wanna stick a cucumber up your ass >
< Oh, yes, baby. What else? U’r going 2 make me cum! >
Keisha and I were on the floor with this one, but he wanted more, so we gave it to him.
< I wanna put my hairbrush inside your butthole and move it in and out >
< Yes, baby! >
< And then my leather cosmetics bag >
< Don’t stop! What else? What else? >
< My universal remote control and snowboard boots >
< Stick them in me! >
< My 1976 Malibu Barbie doll, my CD collection and my Honda Civic >
< I’m cumming! I’m cumming!!! >
Dick and I (and Keisha) continued our text messaging, or as I called it, our sexed messaging, for another couple of months, but we never ended up having sex again. He found a guy for the foursome, but I quickly disapproved of him when I saw that he was the size of a grizzly bear and kind of looked like one. And well, I never even looked for a woman for the foursome. I didn’t really want a foursome. In fact, I didn’t want to do anything with Dick but the sexed messaging. I had become an addict. But then, I met Prototype, my first love after my husband, and the sexed messages got replaced with love messages, and Dick fell limply to the side.
Texting is by far my favorite mode of communication (even without the sex) and I owe it all to Dick, the man who popped my cell phone cherry, the man who taught me how to have text. Thank God for Dick.
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Footnotes:
* Now that I think of it, as soon as I bought that cell phone, my relationship with my husband started to crumble. Perhaps it was the cell phone that ended my marriage. Or maybe it saved me from my marriage. Who knows? But thank God for Dick.
** Boys are just so easy to work sometimes. Show enough, but not too much, and they’re all over it.
*** Mind you, this is not a literal expression here. Asian women don’t blush, unless we’re missing the enzyme that breaks down alcohol, but even then, we only blush while drinking.
**** Hm. Seven years of monogamy and I never thought of a threesome? Either my ex-husband and I had life-changing, ‘I could never leave you’ sex or I am just flat-out lying here. You decide the answer.
***** Does this tell you the answer to Footnote #4?
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