WANTED: Some Sex

This post is based on this week's TRDC Write On Edge's Red Writing Hood prompt: 
Let's get all steamy up in here and write about sex.  But there's a twist.  You can't write about the act.  I don't want to read about any heaving bosoms or girded manhood (please tell me someone else giggled besides me).  Limit is 600 words. It can be fiction or non-fiction.

WANTED: Some Sex

Gosh, when was the last time I had sex? Honestly? Ages ago. I can’t believe I’m actually going ahead and writing this prompt. Because this is as good as it gets: I haven’t been getting any.

If you don’t know what I’m talking about, or wondering why this girl isn’t gettin’ any, let me explain it in a nutshell: my husband says he doesn’t love me anymore, and we might or might not be getting a divorce. But, I’m not here to complain about that. I’ve dealt with that.

I just haven’t dealt with the lack of sex yet.

My besties Ms. Lips and Mrs. Mouthy would testify that I’m not [usually] a very sexual person.  In fact, they’d laugh and tell you, “You’re actually talking sex with Sweaty? Seriously?!?” I’d like to think it has something to do with the anti-depression meds that I’m taking, but mostly it’s probably just my tendency to be on the extreme side of things.  Somewhere in my mind, the fact that I am a ‘mommy’ had apparently short-circuited my libido fuse. For years following my daughter’s birth, sex was the last thing on my mind.

But to give me some credits, no, I wasn’t always like this. I used to buy racy—really racy--lingerie and wore them.  I’ve had frantic sex while my cousin was banging on the front door of my apartment.  I’ve had sex videotaped (uh huh. Let’s hope you won’t see it anytime soon on the internet.  That would NOT be cool).  I’ve had sex naked on a beach under the moonlight (oh yes I did).  I’ve had sex in front of mirrors too (kinky, but true).

Then, slowly those lingerie were replaced by boring, but oh so comfy, grandma panties and wire-less sports bras. Forget late-night fumblings underneath the blanket, I need my beauty sleep! Gone was the spontaneity, replaced by practicality:

• ugh, do I really want to take another shower?

• And re-apply my day/night face/eye/neck cream/serum?

• Honey, can you go brush your teeth first, and while you’re at it, wash ‘you-know-what’ junior a bit, and perhaps put on some cologne and/or that aftershave that I like?

• Oh but my head has found that perfect spot on the pillow already and if I were to move…

• Um, can you not touch my hair too much, I just had it styled and it’s such a pain to put it back together afterwards.

Okay, so where was I? Oh yeah, the lack of sex, when you’re [possibly] going through divorce.

Given my previous record when it comes to sex, you would’ve thought that I would have no problem whatsoever dealing with this little ‘inconvenience.’  But oh no, not I!   I didn’t mind not having sex when it was my choice, but the moment it became a no-choice, that’s when my body decided, hey, some a LOT of sex would be good.

No kidding, those reverse psychology bullsh*t apparently works on me. I want what I cannot have.  As always.  For the first time in years, I want to wear those racy lingerie again.   I want to feel breathless, my pulse quickens, my sense heightened.   I think of the pleasures that comes from lying entangled, limbs to limbs, skin to skin, just tasting the taste and inhaling the scents off each other’s skin.  I want to be desired, touched, filled, consumed.   I want it fast, slow, roughly, and gently.  Oh for f*ck sake, what I want to say is, JUST GIVE IT TO ME already!!!

So there.  That’s my take on sex.  Right now I’m so horny I could hump a tree.

-THE END-

I, the Ugly Duckling.

This post is based on this week's RemembeRED prompt, which was:

Everyone remembers that first inspiration or mentor in their lives that made them want to be or do something in their lives, whether you actually followed through with it or not. Tell us about that inspiration/mentor. How did they affect or change your life!  Let's keep your posts to 500 words or less.

I, the Ugly Duckling

There is a time in every girl's life when she wakes up not caring about how she looks and by the time she goes to bed that night, it's all she could think about.

For me, it happened when I was fifteen.

My mother had been nagging at me for weeks to pay more attention to how I looked.  “A little bit of make-up would do you a lot of good,” she kept on saying.  I ignored her. 

I knew that my mother was beautiful because people told me that all the time.  I also knew that I did not look like her.  My mother always looked her best.  She would tease her hair at the crown and curl up her eyelashes even if she was just going to bed.  Her bathroom drawers were filled with rows of make-up, hairbrushes, and beauty creams and lotions.  I treated them with fascination, but never with interest.

One day, my mother had tea at her friend’s house, where she met her friend’s 16 year-old daughter named Claire.  By the time she got home, my mother could not stop talking about her.  Apparently, Claire was not only smart and brilliant, but she was also a beauty. 

I had always been smart and brilliant.  Even my mother would agree to that.  But nobody, most certainly not my mom, had ever called me a beauty.  I would not have thought twice about Claire if she was only a beauty.  But Claire was both: smart and beautiful.  Right there and then I decided to hate Claire, whom I never met before.

Weeks later, the same friend had once again invited my mother for tea.  This time I was to come along, because wouldn’t it be wonderful if her daughter and I became friends!  I was NOT excited to meet the smart and beautiful Claire.  I already decided to hate her, remember?  Plus, with my mother launching her usual tirade against my hair and my wardrobe choice, I was nervous.

I knew it was Claire the moment she opened her door.   

She was everything my mother said, and more.  Claire wasn’t drop dead gorgeous, but she knew how to dress herself up.  Suddenly I noticed her perfectly arched eyebrows, the eyeliner that emphasized her eyes, the tint of mascara over curled eyelashes, the hint of pink blush on her cheeks, and the pearly lip gloss on her lips.  She wore a simple cardigan set with capri pants.  I was star-struck.

When I got home that day, straightaway I looked for my mother’s cosmetics.  For the first time, I saw the endless possibilities they offered.  I went to bed that night thinking about how I could dress myself up, how I could be both smart and beautiful, and how I could finally have a chance with Peter, this cute boy with dimples that was on my yearbook team.   

I never saw Claire again until a few years ago, at a friend’s wedding.  At first she didn’t recognize me, but then I introduced myself.  I told her she had inspired me, and even though in the beginning I had many more failures than success (just ask my Mother, she had the pictures to prove it), it had all been worth it.  This time, it was Claire’s turn to gush, “But you’re so beautiful!  I just couldn’t picture you any other way.”       

A Little Bird Told Me...

   
This post is based on this week's RemembeRed prompt by the Red Dress Club, which is: Write a post that either starts or ends with the words "Lesson learned."  Word limit: 400 words.

A Little Bird Told Me...


Mother, what are you doing? Why did you wake me up from my nap?  Please don't push me out of the nest!  It's cold out there... 

No, no, no... I'm still sleepy, Mother.  I can barely open my eyes.  Would you please stop nudging me?  Fine, fine, I'm moving!

W-w-wait a minute, where do you want me to go?  There?!?  But I thought...  Ha! Mother, you are so funny!  Of course I won't go there.  Wh-what?!?  I have to?  No, that's too dangerous, you told me so before!

NO!  Mother, why aren't you listening to me?  Would you STOP that??  I can't do that yet, remember?  Besides, I'm hungry, Mother!  Why didn't you bring me any food?  Ss-sst-stop please... whoa, be careful, Mother, I almost fa--

(shrieking) Aaaaaah!!!! Helpppp!!!!  Help me, I'm falling!!! 

(swooshing sound)  Oh thank YOU, God!  Thank goodness you're good at flying, Mother!  You saved me!!  I would've died if you hadn't caught me!  Please take me home now... I want my nest!

Ah, there it is!  Home sweet home.  Boy, what was that all about??  Can I go back to sleep now?  No, no, no... what are you doing, Mother?  Stop pushing me!  Why are you doing this?? Oh no, not again... Wait, did you do that on purpose the first time?!?  What's wrong with you, st-sto...

(shrieking) Aaaaah!!!! Helpppp!!!  You want me to what??  I can't, I can't fly!!  Oh God, oh God, I AM moving my wings, Mother!!!  Nooo, I'm still falling... Help, somebody help!!!

(swooshing sound)  Mother, thank God you've come to your senses!  Please don't let me go!  Yes, I want to go home!  It's much safer up there... and I'm hungry. 

Just drop me off at the nest, will you, Mother?  We'll just forget this ever happens, ok?  Oh no, not again!!!

(shrieking)  What the...?!?  Fine, you want me to fly?  I'll show you 'fly'!!!  See... see... I'm already moving my wings, but I can't fly!  I'll soon die and it's all gonna be your fault, Mother!  I'm SO gonna... hey, HEY, lookie here... I'm not falling... Am I... Mother, I'm flying!  I'm flying!!!!

Lesson learned.

All Because of Photography

This is my attempt at fiction based on The Red Dress Club's Red Writing Hood prompt:

Write a short fiction or non-fiction piece inspired by any or all of the photo below. Word limit: 400 words.

All Because of Photography

Bloody hell, how do you use these things?  Those photography blogs made it look so easy!  So easy that I was stupid enough to tell him that photography was my ‘thing’ and thought I could get away with it. 

But how else could I get his attention?  We’ve passed each other at least a few dozen times on the way to class.  He never gave me any sign he was aware of my existence!  I was beginning to feel hopeless when finally… FINALLY…I ran into him while running errands for my dad. 

He was looking at some photography magazines.  Quick, think of something!  I made my way towards him, cleared my throat and said, “Excuse me, can you pass me that magazine there?”  The magazine that ‘happened’ to be directly in front of him. 

When he looked up, I swore I had stopped breathing.  I tried to look calm—as if meeting a 6’2” gorgeous hunk with eyes as blue as that shoes I just bought at H&M was nothing out of the ordinary.  His eyes widened with recognition, his lips smiled the smile I had dreamt of for, oh, a zillion times.

“Hey, don’t we go to the same school?”

I said, “Really…?  Now that you’ve mentioned it…”

“Did you want this magazine over here?”  He passed me the magazine I had asked earlier.

“Um, yeah, thanks.”

“Are you into photography?  If you are, that’s awesome!  I don’t know many girls who’re into photography.”  He looked at me expectantly.

“Well yeah, but I don’t usually tell people about it…” Oh my God, tell me I didn’t just say that!

“Cool!  Listen, I go to the park on Sundays with my camera.  Wanna join me?”

My big mouth answered, “Sure, that would be fun.” 

“Here, give me your number, and I’ll call you to confirm time and place?”

I gave him my phone number.

“Sorry, I didn’t get your name…” Oh.My.God, he blushed!!!

“It’s Rose.  But my friends call me Rosie.”

“Nice to meet you, Rosie.  I’m Gabe.”  I know.

“Hi, Gabe.”  I was SO going to melt into a puddle right there.

I deliberately made my way to the cashier, paid for the magazine.  I was going to exit the door when he called out, “I’ll call you!”

I did not reply, just waved back at him like the cool girl that I was.

Well, that’s how I got into the mess I’m in right now.  Not only had I spent all my savings on buying not one, but two cameras, but I also had no idea on how to use them, even after spending hours trying to understand those useless manuals. Sh*t, sh*t, sh*t, what am I going to do??? 

In a Matter of Seconds

This week's RemembeRed writing prompt is by Natalie of Mama Track.  The assignment this week is based on rhythm, how we can use it to entertain and engage readers, and if the writer can convey that rhythm using her writing.

In a Matter of Seconds

I watched the hand of seconds go by

Clicking sounds that echoed between four walls.

And remembered the “please oh God, please…”

Click-a-ti-click, click-a-ti…

Breathe in, breathe out

Is it real, is it not?

Don’t say that word I can’t accede

Click-a-ti-click, click-a-ti…

I blinked once, and then twice

Is that hardness in your eyes?

How could things have turned to ice

When fires are scalding me alive?

Click…

I felt my eyes welled up

Click…

I felt my lungs collapsed

I watched the hands of seconds go by

Dull thumps that delivered pounding in my skull

And rendered me impaired with, oh such ease

Click-a-ti-click, click-a-ti…

The slight shake of your head

The shape your mouth makes

No.  Please…

Oh God, please…

I questioned you why; please reply

Did you answer me with a sigh?

We didn’t see eye to eye

You wouldn’t give it another try

Click…

We have to say good bye

Click…

Gone in the blink of an eye

To My Unborn Child

Did you feel that, Unborn Baby?
That's my heartbeat.  My love.
My life.
Did you see that, My Dear?
For all the could have beens.
My tears.

I've met you deep in the recesses of my dreams
I held you in my arms til you're asleep

You're my joy that will never be
The laughter that soon turns to debris

Did you hear that, Winter Sky?
That's your name.  My pride.
My breath.
Did I not speak of you enough?
All that lay within.  Those years.
My fears.

I never thought of you not ever being
A little too late now for my pleas

Did you know that, Unseen Child?
You're alive. Here. In my life.

My Happy Ending

This week's Red Writing Hood prompt is to spread a little joy and write about happy endings.  Obviously, I sucked big time, as you can see from my friend's Shanimals' Crackers' comment below.  LOL.

I waited for him in the rain, beneath the sequoia tree.  With my eyes closed and my hands locked in prayer.  He told me he's leaving on a trip to no-man's land; who knew when--if--he's coming back.

There was the sun, and then the moon.  But it kept on raining where I stood.  Beneath the sequoia tree, where last he said goodbye.  Away he went, without a backward glance, on a trip to no-man's land.

Love stood by, but he kept on walking.  He had forgotten, you see.  About our sequoia tree.  That's why, he said, "don't wait for me.  Let's say goodbye, for it's dawn, and I'm gone to no-man's land."

But I knew the day would come when Thy Will be done.  He'd still be gone but I won't want.  Where wings would fly and send me high.  Above, beyond our sequoia tree, that's where I'd be.

Gone, into my promised land.

What Do I Want? What Do I Really, Really Want??

Many thanks to Allison, the mama behind Mama Wants This, who's been such a supportive and loyal friend.

I joined the Red Dress Club many weeks ago, but until now had been too chickensheet to actually do any of the writing prompts.  This week's prompt has a lot to do with character development: "What do you want?"

It's funny, to be asked about what I want, because it just occurred to me that at least for the last couple of years, I've been living life without really thinking about what I want.  In a way, this writing prompt really made me pause and re-evaluate my life today.

Oh I remembered what I wanted growing up: I wanted to be a full-time wife and mother.  I bought into the whole fairy tale and happily-ever-after idea pretty much as far back as I could remember.  Nothing--not my parents' divorce nor their subsequent failure in relationships, or even when life proved to be way different than Disney's glitter and glow--was going to stand in my way.

At times when my friends aspired to be doctors, engineers, scientists, superheroes, and famous actors, I secretly wanted to be a housewife and stay-at-home mother.  I was too embarrassed to say it at the time, though.  I didn't know anyone else who wanted what I wanted (perhaps those who did were too embarrassed to say it out loud too).  So I came up with a brilliant answer should my aunts, uncles, parents' friends asked me.  I told them I wanted to be a cashier, at a supermarket.  Yeah, brilliant.

Came college time, I still wanted to be a housewife and stay-at-home mother.  But until I actually found a gentleman who would love to marry me and have babies with me, I've got to come up with a back-up plan.  So I studied psychology and economics, just in case. 

I mean,do you know how difficult it was to find 20 year-old boys who just can't wait to get married and have kids?!?  Most of the ones I knew would most likely be running-pants on fire style-in the opposite direction if I so much as mentioned the M word.  And being a young, not-so-bad-looking (ehem) woman, I also preferred young, good-looking (haha) gentlemen closer to my age.  Hey, don't tell me you didn't feel that way!  When you're twenty, anything above 30 or 35 were "eww waaaay too old"--remember those times?

And then there's also the prospect of being disowned by my mother  if she ever finds out that her only child would rather be a housewife and stay-at-home mom than follow her footsteps in attaining at least a PhD. degree.

Of course I've also stopped telling people I wanted to be a supermarket cashier by then.  Now I told people I wanted to be a psychologist, because apparently being a psychologist was more fitting than a supermarket cashier when you happened to major in psychology and economics.

Mucho boyfriends and bad dates later, a man finally decided he wanted me to be his wife and mother of his future children.  And yep, even after I told him all I ever wanted was to be a housewife and a stay-at-home mom. (Yay!  Finally there was someone who didn't run away after finding out that um, his girlfriend actually wanted to settle down and commit! And that there's no such thing as free sex, guys!!!)

Today, I'm no longer a newly married, nor am I a new mom.  In many ways, life has been kind to me and I'm blessed because I am living the life that I've always wanted.  Like any marriage, mine had its ups and downs, but if I had to do it all over again, I would stil choose the same man to be my husband.  I am not the perfect mom, I even had my share of postpartum depression.   But I love my daughter and I treasure every moment of raising her and watching her grow up.

As I mentioned earlier, the prompt to write about "What do I want?" actually made me pause and the more I thought about, the more it scared the living $#!^ out of me.  Why?  Because if I am living the life that I've always wanted, wouldn't it mean that I should be content, or at least smiling my ass off? 

But I'm not smiling my ass off.  So what does that mean?  Did what I want changed somewhere along the way?  Or have I been as blind as a bat, taking for granted what I have, always wanting more?  I asked myself over and over again what I want, but you know what, other than the same ol' "I want to be a housewife and a stay-at-home mom," I honestly don't want anything else.  

Oh, who doesn't want great health, lasting beauty, lots of money, and a string of luxuries;  it's not like I'm going to refuse if anybody were to offer those things to me.  And yes, my husband would probably screamed, "Are you shittin me???" if he ever found out I said this, but the truth is, other than "I want to be a housewife and a stay-at-home mom," there's really, honestly, nothing else I really want.

Let me tell you, even as I'm wrapping up this post to an end, I'm still asking myself this simple, yet mind-boggling, question.  I'll leave you with my final answer--the best answer I can come up with right now.  What I want is to be a housewife and a stay-at-home mom.  But what I need to do right now is to find new ways to appreciate what I have, to realize that I have what I want, and to work on keeping what I have so that when my time comes and I closed my eyes for the last time, I can say that I've lived a life that I've always wanted.