How Being Obsessive (and taking acting lessons!) Ruins Sex Roleplaying!

role-playing“A French Maid? That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. And clean your own damn apartment with that fru-fru feather thingy!” I said, slamming the door. That was my response to my college boyfriend’s suggestion on how we should spice-up our sex life.

Why did he need me to pretend to be someone else? How insulting! Truth be known, if you were shy like me, fantasy role-playing felt super awkward. Fast forward to a time I got involved in community theater and suddenly I saw “risqué make-believe” in a whole new light. The stage-light, that is. Oscar winning performance, here I come!

The following are highlights from some of the meatier roles I’ve sunk my teeth into over the years. (Note: I mostly had the same male co-star.)

Lonely Housewife and Repairman (okay, nothing was actually broken and The Maytag Man seemed too predictable, so I suggested he be a chimney sweep instead.) As he surveyed my filthy fireplace with his poised broom, I sashayed in wearing a negligee, holding graham crackers and a wire coat hanger with a white cottonball on the end (my marshmallow-roasting prop). “Would you like S’more?” I asked, fluttering my false eyelashes. He stammered, “Some more? I haven’t even had any,” then abruptly lunged for my breasts. “Cut!!” I yelled. “Just a minute, Buster. You forgot to say ‘Yet.’ Your line should be, I haven’t had any YET.” I angrily tossed a handful of black soot into his surprised face while humming, “Chim Chim Cher-Ee” from Mary Poppins and exited stage left.

Hitchhiker On The Road: (The street we chose was very realistic, although I got a lot of gawking from other motorists (I should probably mention that unbeknownst to boyfriend, I had decided to roleplay a Hooker-Hitchhiker.) I giggled when I saw the limousine slow down, wishing I were a fly on the wall when my guy directed the unsuspecting chauffeur to pull over. “What’s your name?” my boyfriend’s eyes widened with surprise at my black lace stockings, as he asked the question we’d rehearsed. “What do you want it to be?” I breathed huskily, sliding in next to him in the backseat. “I appreciate this whole seduction thing you got going on here, but let me give you a tip. I’m a sure thing,” I loudly continued. The limo-driver stared at me in the rear-view mirror. For extra measure I added, “In case I forget to tell you later, I had a really good time tonight.” Driver’s jaw dropped, finally recognizing I’ve been quoting Julia Roberts from Pretty Woman. But slow Boyfriend still clueless so at the red light I directed my next line toward the front seat. “I was in here yesterday. You wouldn’t wait on me. You people work on commission, right?” Driver nodded. “Mistake. Big mistake. Huge mistake. I have to go shopping now!” I flounced out of the vehicle, leaving both men staring after me flabbergasted.

High School English Professor:  Crossing my 45-year-old legs while perched atop my desk, I observed him excitedly eyeing my short skirt as it rose up my shapely thighs. Perfect! And now for his assignment. Conjugate the words “fellatio” and “cunnilingus” into verbs for all 6 tenses, including singular past perfect in both the active and passive voices, then write me a 65-page essay on why oral sex was banned in the middle ages. Cranky without my morning coffee, I promptly headed to the teacher’s lounge, (my kitchen) leaving him to ponder how such a wild sexual fantasy could turn out so grueling and possibly lower his GPA.

Innocent School Girl: Aha! Same boyfriend (as above) thought he could outsmart me into having sex, this time turning the tables with a role-play reversal that put him in charge as the teacher. But when he leered at me I let out a piercing scream, kicked him in the groin with my little white patent-leather Mary Janes, and proceeded to report him to Child Protective Services (and the PTA) using my cellphone.

Sexy Nurse in All White: While I fastened my satin garter belts, my  very male “patient” sauntered in and started inadvertently sneezing, which wasn’t in our script. Pulling out a thermometer, I lectured, “Sorry, but I’m in my best friend’s wedding this weekend and can’t risk getting sick. I’m not touching any part of you until you get a flu shot, buddy. Understand?”

Porn Star: He finally got wise, appointing himself Executive Producer in this next roleplay so he could unleash my wannabe acting skills on a real “casting couch.” At my audition, he gave me a lengthy screen test, had me pose for racy photos, then directed me to read my lines extra seductively. But just as I was actually getting turned on, contemplating if my Adult Film Star name should be “Anita Diamond” or “Candy Barr,” he hollered, “Quiet on the set!” That was my cue to inquire if I had gotten the part?  “Don’t call us. We’ll call you,” he responded. Next thing I knew, a gorgeous, busty blonde bombshell strolled in, just as a giant metal hook yanked me offstage. Obviously my boyfriend had enough of my role-playing shenanigans and called in my understudy. Hmmmph. Lights, Camera, but no action.

Are you ready for your close-up? Do you think role-playing is sexy or just silly?

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https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/obsessed/

 

 

Gee Mom, You’re NOT What I Ordered!

Do NOT choose me if you throw your clothes on the floor, kid!

Do NOT choose me if you throw your clothes on the floor, kid!

Many people believe that before conception, babies are actually able to pick out exactly which mother they would like to be born to. There must be a catalogue of some sort that the “man upstairs” presents them with so they can make an educated choice.

In honor of Mother’s Day coming up soon, I’d like to share just a partial glimpse with you now:

 Mommy Menu

(New selections added every Sunday)

Mommy #6,035 – A frugal female but a good cook so you won’t go hungry. After weaning you from the breast, (at age 4) she’ll whip up culinary masterpieces with a bottle of hot sauce, cupcake sprinkles and some beef jerky, which she purchased with expired coupons. Quick tempered, won’t put up with unmade beds, smart mouths, or even pierced ears. But you’ll never hear, “Because I said so.” Currently single, but actively looking for a husband – so please like adventure. Note: Must buy own car and pay for college with this model of mother.

Mommy #27,686,235 – You’ll have four older siblings and always be considered “the oops” baby. She’s endearingly “scatterbrained” which is a nice way of saying you better have an affinity for cold chicken nuggets, Halloween costumes that are actually old sports uniforms, and be able to do your laundry at age six. Make that four. She’ll beg you to arrange your own carpool to and from baseball practice. (Uses the term “carpool” loosely since she’ll regularly forget when it’s her turn to drive.) Learn to be ultra polite so her more “together” friends will feel sorry for you and step in to help. There’s a Mother Code for that. Bonus: Your older brother is totally cool and makes the high school swim team which means you’ll always have a pool in your backyard!

Mommy # 18,633 – Control freaks unite. You’ll be a homebirth, your cord blood will be banked, she’ll grind her own baby food, and color code the Legos. Also nobody touches you without wearing full scrubs and mask. And this is at your Bar Mitzvah. Your house will be spotless and she might even sterilize your tallywhacker before you masturbate. When you’re 17, she’ll have a nervous breakdown and repetitively utter the mantra, “Always secure your own oxygen mask before assisting others.” She’ll make the perfect scapegoat when you’re in therapy for the rest of your life.

Mommy #312 – You’ll hit the jackpot with self-help books when you’re raised by this version of Mama. Postpartum depression, binge-eater, germaphobe, co-dependent, OCD, emotional intensity disorder, generalized anxiety disorder, histrionic personality disorder, intermittent explosive disorder, reactive attachment disorder, arachnophobia, and fear of flying. Plus she’ll start a blog about motherhood, which she’ll title, “Does This Straight Jacket Make Me Look Fat?”

Mommy # 318,206 — This one has the perfect nanny all interviewed so she’s ready to go back to her legal career in six weeks. But if you’re a real charmer, she’s gonna feel guilty and you just may snag yourself a full-time, super smart mother who will ask you to cite statutes and precedents when you ask for cookies and milk. Full Disclosure: She will constantly remind you what she gave up to raise you.

Mommy #1 – “The Perfect Mother.” Sorry, but this style is currently out of stock. Actually Perfect Mothers sat in the warehouse for thousands of years so they were all sent back to the factory. No baby ever requests a perfect mother because – – what’s the fun in that? Children are the best teachers and they just want a mommy who has open arms, heart, mind and soul. And a ton of LOVE to give, in return for all they’ll receive.

Planning An Affair? (Carrying on with someone else when you’re married!)

photo-439Does anyone PLAN an affair? Not a black tie affair with music, food and dancing! This is for my followers who are okay with reading something different from me.  Back soon with some Valentine’s humor.

SO YOU WANT TO HAVE AN AFFAIR . . . 

You want to have an affair. You haven’t even been married long. Wait a sec, are you married or just roommates? You check and yep, your marriage license is in your nightstand drawer. The wedding video that cost $800 is covered with dust. No question — you’ve made a lifelong commitment.

But your current nights certainly give a good impression of being roomies. There’s even a posted schedule of whose turn it is to take out garbage and shop for groceries. Truth be told, you’ve been contemplating the idea of an affair for a long time and not because you’re having a mid-life crisis, envisioning a red sports car in your future.

No, this isn’t about low self-esteem. Quite the opposite. You deserve more. You deserve someone who understands, connects, responds — and “gets” you on a deep level.

You’ve been testing the waters lately, making more intense eye contact with attractive strangers. When they hold your gaze, you’ve felt that elusive thrill from your past. But your thoughts never go beyond this. Until today.

Today a pop-up window appeared for Ashley Madison. Their slogan — “Monogamy is monotony!” Clever. Maybe that’s a sign? Visions of hang-up phone calls, excuses to get milk (when it’s not even your turn!) and seedy motel rooms run through your head. You visit the website and there are many photographs. These people do not look underhanded, sleazy or desperate. They look like…you.

They talk of voids. “Mistakes, regrets and soul-searching” are other buzzwords. Everyone’s profile states they don’t want to change their current marital situation. They don’t want to hurt their lifelong partner or upset the family’s applecart. They just want to supplement their life. And above all, they want discretion.

You are attracted to several of the profiles, but there’s no way to contact them (even to innocently chat) without making a profile of your own. You could easily do this. You have that private email account. And amazingly enough, you have a nice photograph of just you. You wouldn’t even have to crop out someone else’s arm around you. You decide to do it. It’s just a couple hundred words describing your likes and dislikes, no big deal.

You’re careful to phrase things so people understand you haven’t done this before. You’re not a player. You’re just curious about what’s “out there.” When you’re done, you preview it and feel confident you’ll get lots of views and responses. You hesitate just for a moment before you click “Publish” but then do it very matter-of-factly. After all, you want to have an affair. Don’t you?

Later, your spouse is particularly upsetting which justifies your actions. Not listening to anything you say, but instead thinking up the next clever remark to interject while you’re still speaking. You’re tired of being talked over and around, so when you finally go to bed, you’re grateful there’s no talking at all. Carefully staying on your side of the bed, you don’t brush skin. Even accidental cuddling would elicit guilt.

You can’t sleep. Your new online mailbox is all you think about. In the den, the monitor glows eerily and after remembering your password, you’re rewarded (and flattered!) to find 6 new emails. Several of them try to be funny. They try too hard. One goes on and on, obviously totally self-absorbed. Who does that remind you of? One talks about extreme guilt, which you don’t want to be reminded of. Two of them gush over your photo and tell you they’d sleep with you tomorrow.

But really if this was just about sex, you could find that anywhere. After all, you’re attractive. Hell, there’d be zero risk of getting caught if it was just the physical release you were after. You can do that for yourself. And God knows, lately you have. A lot.

No, you’re trying to find that missing connection. You hate the term ‘soulmate’ but admit it fits here. The chemistry must be there, yes, but you’re seeking more. You write back to all six individuals. You ask questions. What brought them here? What are they looking for? What’s wrong with their marriages? You don’t ask anything you wouldn’t answer yourself.

You tell everyone to write back and confess something surprising, even shocking. You spend the next twenty minutes deleting emails, emptying recycle bins, erasing history as your other half sleeps in the next room. This is kind of daring, kind of thrilling and definitely an adventure into the unknown.

The next morning you can’t look your spouse in the eye, but interestingly, there’s no notice taken of that. Everything proceeds as usual and you’re off to work. In your office lobby, you look around and wonder how many people are having secret affairs? From the number of hits on that website, you’d venture 1 in 3 people do this.

Could it be her? Maybe him? Oh! You bet it’s those two over by the ATM machine. Maybe that one is even one of your actual responders… after all, the photo was faraway and blurry. You feel giddy. Your day flies by. You don’t dare check email from work because you’ve heard employers have ways of tracking these things. So you race home to log on and… Jackpot!

Nine new responses and four from the first batch have already written back. As per your request for surprising tidbits, there are some real shockers revealed. Someone is a physician who regularly sleeps with patients. Someone else is happily married and just looking to add a threesome to their routine and someone else has a gambling problem and just lost the house. Interesting how that one original respondent who was so cocky and self-assured hasn’t sent a photograph or admitted anything astonishing. All the rest are okay, but it’s those voids in that particular email that’s most intriguing. You ignore the others and pursue the individual who represents a challenge.

Two weeks pass and you’re wild with desire by the mystery profile. The witty flirtations have been like nothing you’ve experienced, well at least not since you first got married. This person truly “gets” you, which blows your mind because you’re so complicated. Sometimes you don’t even “get” yourself! And after all this time, you haven’t even seen a photograph, but this doesn’t matter because you’re officially obsessed. You can’t believe your spouse hasn’t noticed changes.

Computer time increases three-fold. You’re simultaneously jumpy, edgy, and euphoric. You’ve shopped for the perfect meeting outfit. There’s talk of an out-of-the-way place for cocktails but both people know that’s just a formality. Until you seduce one another physically, mirroring what’s already occurred emotionally online.

Today’s email is especially adorable and funny. An agreement has been made that when you meet, the long awaited photograph will finally be placed in your hand! Kinda ironic because when that happens, you won’t need a photograph. The email also promises you’ll be told what quality about you was initially the most attractive. How fun!

You write back that you can’t wait for this to happen. You delete that because it makes you sound needy. Instead you casually write back “perhaps our paths will cross one day, when we’re least expecting it.” You add that you’ll anticipate a photograph and the compliment when that time comes.

You log off the computer with a yearning sigh. You walk from the den into the next room where you literally bump into your spouse. As you look up into wistful eyes, a photograph is gently slipped into your hand. Your spouse softly whispers, “Hello. It was actually your honesty that originally attracted me the most.”

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/carry/

Men At Work (Never Date These Guys!)

blog 1What are the worst professions to have a relationship with?   Most of you know I’ve been divorced twice now and careers seem to have caused a lot of tension in the union.  When a Creative Writer (me) marries a Technical Writer (him), she should be prepared to have her entire life edited.  The first red (literally red!) flag was when he took his red pen to our wedding vows. But I’ve had my grocery lists, daily planner, and tooth fairy notes to our kids proofread as well.  Love letters that I thoughtfully composed were returned to me with the comment, “Couple of run-on sentences, but otherwise a great first draft!”  He told me “i before e except after c” so many times, I finally changed the spelling of my name to “Stephanei,” just to irritate him.

The husband before him was an engineer.  Not the easygoing kind of engineer who makes the train go, “Choo-Choo.”  No, he was an   Electrical Engineer  that designed chips, (nothing to do with salsa, by the way)  but I can’t talk about his career because he holds some sort of Top Secret Security Clearance, which I always suspected means he just runs a big hush-hush yearly sale at Walmart.

Here then, in no particular order, (and certainly not in the order that they dumped me!) are the different fields of work I’ve had the experience of dating and my “sparse and neutral” comments that follow.

Vague, Vapid, Volatile, Vexing Vocations

 

Owner Of a Merry Maid Service – – And these weren’t just joyful women who cleaned during the Christmas season either.  This fastidious man had a Maid Brigade of housekeepers at his beck and call – –  so of course, he could never find out that he had a messy girlfriend.  Or that the song playing in my house was “Another One Invites the Dust!” Or that my one and only use for a  broom was being swept off my feet.   I scrubbed more surfaces in that one hour before he was due over my condo than a surgeon does in a lifetime.  (Note: I never dated a surgeon)  I even discarded old, tattered recipes for Sloppy Joes.  Days before our dinner date, I wore white gloves so I wouldn’t fingerprint my glass table or mirrors.  And then it happened.  With just ten minutes before his arrival, my vacuum broke.   So I did what any girl would do hoping to impress a Neatnik.  I got out the salad tongs and ran them over every rug in every room in the house, making those telltale tracks for that “just Hoovered” look.  Of course when it came time to serve my first course, there were gold shag carpet fibers tossed in with his lettuce.  Yes, not only was I a slob, but I was an outdated one who needed to redecorate.

Did you know these work as a vacuum in a pinch?

Did you know these work as a vacuum in a pinch?

The Police Officer – – Being a writer, I kept insisting he growl, “Throw the book at her!” in his meanest voice.  He was also disappointed when instead of racy bedroom fun with his handcuffs, I wouldn’t unlock them until he admitted that highway patrol officers really DO have a quota for giving traffic tickets.  I also worried that there would be telltale evidence around my apartment, so I wore those same white gloves (see above with the cleaning business man) in case he decided to lift my fingerprints off a wine goblet.   It was at that point that I thought of having a threesome.  The officer could frisk me and proudly announce to Merry Maid Guy, “She’s clean.” What a turn-on.

The Magician – – This relationship started off bad – – He was the entertainer on a cruise ship and his first trick of the evening was making his wedding ring vanish.  Meanwhile the only thing I ever learned to make disappear was the midnight chocolate buffet.   But still he persisted in dating me, sadistically refusing to teach me his secrets while enjoying my frustration over how the sawed-in-half lady’s pedicure always stayed so pretty.   But I got even with him – – one Father’s Day, I replaced his Presto-Change-O color growing necktie with a boring paisley one on sale at Sears.  Before the big cocktail party in his home, he asked me to make sure he had a full deck of cards – –  so I covered his patio with Get Well, Happy Birthday, and “Congratulations on Your Retirement” Hallmark greetings.  Next I velcroed odd items inside the hem of his costume that would come loose at inopportune moments.  Maybe he didn’t have anything up his sleeves, but out of his pant legs tumbled rubber bands, gluesticks and pieces of duct tape.  For his grand finale, he pulled a rabbit out of a hat . . . with a condom on its tail.  Needless to say, at the end of his act (as family and friends clapped half-heartedly) he bowed out of our relationship in a puff of smoke.

That would be the last time he pulled out a coin from underneath my dress.

That would be the last time he pulled out a coin from underneath my dress.

Barney Rubble – – Before he was married to Betty, I went out with him a few times until his laugh drove me berserk.  Okay,  so I was just seeing if you were paying attention my Dear Reader!  And also if you believe I’m old enough to have lived in the Stone Age.  But I’m not in that generation;  it was really his son, Bam-Bam I went steady with.  And I was literally quite broken-up when he broke up with me using that club of his.

The Accountant – –  This guy put an ad on Match.com saying he was looking for his female counterpart – – the perfect Bookkeeper.  I dragged my entire series of hardbound Nancy Drew’s out of the garage and lined them up alphabetically against a handsome shelf on my living room wall.  He wasn’t impressed.  When I learned foreplay would consist of balancing my checkbook for hours on end, I knew we were finished.

The Chiropractor:  His best pick-up line – – “Don’t worry baby, I got your back.”  But when he found out I was too scared to let him adjust any part of my body, he told me I needed an attitude adjustment and walked (perfectly straight) out the door.

The Attorney/Professional Chef:  If that isn’t a winning combo, I don’t know what is.  He thought I was cute when I asked him if “that was a docket in his pocket or he was just happy to see me?”  But eventually the burden of proof was on me to show him I could cook.  Exhibit A was charred beyond recognition, and my kitchen smelled so bad, he had to ask, “May I approach the stench?”  But when I couldn’t even make a decent cup of coffee, that caused a latte of problems and was grounds for a break-up.

Orthodontist – – An unful”filling” relationship because he never appreciated my biting sense of humor.  There were just far too many puns to be made in this relationship, so I braced myself for getting on his nerves.  But as it turns out, many romantic moments were ruined as he gazed into my eyes and inquired if I ever thought of doing a little something with my endearing overbite?  Ignoring what I blatantly told him I thought of doing at the moment, he instead suggested a retainer.  A retainer??!  That’s when I fantasized about another perfect threesome with the Lawyer!   He could sue the orthodontist for incisor trading and as a witness, I could solemnly swear to tell the tooth and nothing but the tooth.

Owner of Kraft Inc. – – It should be quite obvious after reading this blog, my perfect match is with a man who appreciates cheesy writing. It seems I have become a bit obsessed with puns lately.

 

What’s your profession and which ones have you found you are quite incompatible with?