Bliss!

Ah… bliss. Thy name is surely ‘kindred spirit’.

Have you ever sat with a male version of yourself?
But one that had actually lived your fantasies and pushed the envelope as far as you had wanted
but never had the cojones to?
That, right there, is my definition of bliss.
And it doesn’t have to have a carnal dimension, it’s all cerebral and experience-based.
(ok, ok, so… somewhere deep, deep in the recesses of me, the carnal flame flickers… very, very distantly)

You exchange notes and experiences, you share joys and disappointments, you argue about ‘how could you not have loved/hated that’, you want to know ‘have you been? have you seen?’

Ah. Bliss.
Obrigada.
Kweli, ‘bahari ya mungu hai filisiki’.

Disappointed today?
Tomorrow brings surreal contact with life as it’s supposed to be.
Hang in there.
No other way of knowing, right?

Notes on ‘nads

Female 'nads, of which I’m a proud owner:
A doctor (female) was speaking on radio about menopause and Hormone Replacement Therapy (HRT). I listened up since I’m entering that period in my life. Now, I’m one of those purists who don’t believe in using pharmaceuticals if they are not necessary. E.g. if I have the flu, I’m not going to take antibiotics ‘cause flu is a virus, not a bacterium. The most I’ll do (when I can get away with it) is take lemon drinks and sleep. Otherwise I’ll go in to work and cough and sniffle on everything in sight.
Stories about how HRT hormones are harvested from pregnant horses are enough to turn any stomach, so I’ve always regarded that HRT story dubiously. Besides, estrogen can be a bad, bad hormone, so why not rejoice as its levels reduce? As the speaker said though, it’s probably ‘cause right now I’m worried about period pain, and petrified of unplanned pregnancy. Once the vagina gets dry, however, I may be singing a different song.

A friend and I bravely stepped out of ‘puritan-ville’ when we made a pact (and started saving) to go for ‘lifts’ once gravity overcomes those lumps of fat and glands whose only muscle is the nipple. Now it appears I may have to get used to the idea of HRT. Why? Something the woman on radio said totally alarmed me! She said the second-largest sex organ (slso) in my body (my vagina) will shrink and dry up unless the estrogen levels are kept up!!! Now, loving said slso as much as I do, this is not a happy thought. But what to do as time (and gravity) marches on? Give in gracefully, I say.

Right at the heels of 'no! not my slso!' though, a thought on how interesting 'nature' is: doesn’t a man’s phallus get smaller with age? How cool is it that nature chose to synchronize the shrivel and shrinkage in both sexes?!
Intelligent Design: 1, Evolution: nil.

Male ‘nads, of which I am occasionally a custodian:
(How was it) hanging with a really cool 'diver dude' a while ago when conversation wandered to ‘to cut or not to cut’ and then into ‘ways of cutting’. I’d heard somewhere that when you see tourist women going for maasai guys, it’s not all about the (rolling eyes) myth of the African man’s size/stamina/prowess. Apparently maasai guys have something unique for real. In the circumcision process, part of the foreskin is left intact, like a goatee on the phallus.

'Diver dude' added a new dimension to my knowledge/myth collection: in tribes that would regularly fight, it was a form of identification. i.e. us guys would have one ‘goatee’, you guys would have a split ‘goatee’. That way, after the blood spray and spatter on the battle fronts had settled down, we could come thru, identify our dead and take them with us.
Pretty cool, huh?

Now: a) let me know if any of these myths are true, b)…. paging maasai guys…

Back

Ok, I'm back from outer space.
(restaurant at the end of the universe wasn't too shabby)
Decided "the responsible life" didn't suit me, so I jumped ship and find myself in an ocean a little bit different from the one I'd left behind.

It feels good to be blogging again, and I look forward to moulting ... Nothing remotely close to my all time favorite female blogger though (totally envy her unselfconsciousness).

Love the one you’re with

(Follow up to “I think…”)

I’ve recently realized the truth in Luther’s exhortation: “if you can’t be with the one you love, then love the one you’re with”. I have chosen to love ‘the one I’m with’… (can't believe it took me this long to realize this life truth!)

Believe me, you are nowhere near as surprised as I am. I’ve always fancied myself the idealist, one who would sooner drive a stake through her own heart than succumb to the settle-for-less syndrome. (Un)fortunately, no stake is handy, so I’ve had to get real philosophical about this decision.

Banished are the dizzy, frivolous dreams of love and happily-ever-after. In their place is the resolve to make the best of this. After all, ‘the one I love’ cares nothing for me, has never shown any consideration or appreciation, teases and toys with me, and just never delivers. Robert Greene wasn’t kidding when he said “the moment people feel they know what to expect from you, your spell on them is broken”.

‘The one I’m with’, however, cares deeply, and appreciates me. ‘The one I’m with’ supports me in any decision I make, and provides opportunities that make my mind boggle at the possibilities.

Granted, ‘the one I’m with’ is nothing like ‘the one I love’. He has not the wit, the manliness, the imagination, or the beauty of ‘the one I love’…. But he has what is most important: he’s available, willing and able. Tell me again why I should chase after fleeting mirages when I have a very real pot of gold before me?

So here I go, becoming someone I had vowed never to become, one of those women who says “you never really get the one you want”. But then again, who said I had to map out every road I take? Let me go down this unchartered path… who knows? it may lead to the adventure and fulfillment I long for… hope springs eternal in this human breast.