Lesson From Empathy

During my 5 year dating fling seeking my Prince Charming, I learned a lot about myself. Some good, some painfully ugly. In the psych business, we call it “insight” and swear it makes you better and stronger when you practice merciless, honesty talking to the person in your mirror. Another brutal exercise is to stop focusing on yourself and truly see something from someone else’s point of view. 

Wren and I were both in our 60 with grown kids.  He also had twins in third grade that loved bike-riding; I tolerated Pilates 3x/wk. How tough could it be to relearn to bike? He was a chemist; I was a math major for a year at UCLA eons ago. He slept by 10 and up at 5, exercised, took care of business before working for 8 hours. I was nearly retired and slept the same as a mindless teenager, 2-3 am until 10 or so. As he walked me to my car after our seven hour date, I was daydreaming about how I’d fit nicely, with some adjustments, into his world. He said he'd had a nice time, but I "was not active enough."

Gobsmacked. I was so embarrassed. Why hadn’t I seen this coming? My mirror and I had a long, tearful chat that night, and was told to get over myself and see it from his POV. Fast forward to living together. His week with the kids —he’s up before dawn to do his stuff; wakes them at 7 for breakfast and morning routine before piling into the car for school and work. I roll over and sleep several more hours. I putter all day because I’m nearly retired, and because I can. Everyone’s home by 6, for a fabulous meal I slaved all day creating (or pre-bought). Vibrations emanate off the kids wondering when I’m going to disappear forever so they don’t have to share Dad any longer. Homework, bedtime routine until 9, and lights out for him too. Or, he has homework and I read. 

Off weeks, no kids. He’s up when it’s oh dark thirty for alone time, kisses me at 8 (who’s still in bed) and off to work. After, a bike-ride, brisk hour of tennis, or sweat-dripping pickleball, and dinner. Relax with opera or blues in the background while reading, as I watch some psychologically twisted story on TV. I need quiet when I read; he dislikes TV. He’s tired and ready for sleep as I’m just metabolically winding up. I’m ready to play cards on-line. Or better yet, surf dating apps. Yup, he’s right. How in my right mind did I think this could work? Had I put myself in his shoes, even a few times during that seven hour date, I would have had an accurate understanding of our wants and needs, and how incompatible we were. Insight, foresight prevents hindsight blindsight. For the whole miserable, embarrassing story, read Chapter 22 of my debut book, available on Amazon, Google Books, and Walmart. Whoo hoo! Cyber Frogs And Princes: A Sex Manual Of On-Line Dating After 50 by Suze Q   -SQ

Beyond The Sexual Comfort Zone, Book Excerpt: Mick

"There are psychological schools of thought that in order to establish rapport and to truly understand a patient, you had to join them where they were, whether this was a certified psychotic patient who believed that he was hearing messages directly from God or a sex addict who thought about nothing except orgasms all day long," reads the opening of Chapter 9: Mick, in my debut book, Cyber Frogs And Princes: A Sex Manual Of On-Line Dating After 50 by Suze Q. It continues, “I drew the line at whatever I thought could hurt my career if exposed, but sexting and telephone porn was one way I allowed myself to learn about their secret worlds. These trips took me beyond my comfort zone at times, but I chalked it all up to psychological research, which of course, was total B.S., and fun that was no one's business but mine and his." 

Mick was a Scottish builder I met playing Texas Hold 'Em. He'd dwelled in a small town all his single 37 years of life. Saying I lived in California made him imagine I partied regularly with movie stars so his instant lust was mixed with star-crossed fantasies that Hollywood has infused into every far flung whistle-stop in the world. We created our own fantasies for a week or two… -SQ

Dirty Talk, Dangerous Thoughts

During my escapades of searching for my Frog Prince in my 60s, I met guys on-line through dating sites, and virtual gambling rooms. Attraction and flirting was as titillating as the game itself. Nico was a Greek married business man that turned into an insatiable horn-dog once the teasing turned to fantasy. Here's a snippet to whet your appetite or scare the bejesus out of you like he did to me, even from 7,000 miles. 

"Then red flag number two was waved when he wanted to put his cock in my mouth 'until you choke.' I immediately texted, 'NO,' and just as quickly, he corrected that he didn't mean until I 'passed out.' I got the gist that we were acting out one of his kinky fantasies, and I had the overwhelming sense that if I did pass out momentarily, that would be a fabulous turn-on. He said he still wanted me to name what movie star I looked like so that he could visualize me while masturbating... He was especially interested in learning what American women enjoyed the most about 'S&M.'" Had this been real, I wonder if he knew "the international code to call 911 before I became the cult heroine of his snuff film?" 

For the whole story, turn to Chapter 10: Nico, in my debut book available on Amazon, Google Books, and Walmart. Cyber Frogs And Princes: A Sex Manual Of On-Line Dating After 50 by Suze Q. You'll never look at Greek sweets the same way again. -SQ 

Tesla Apology

Dear S.Q. I saw this bumper sticker (and blocked the license plate), agreeing whole heartedly. California is the home to Tesla and we were thrilled to show our tourists Disneyland, Hollywood, the Tesla and SpaceX plants, until Musk created DOGE, and turned into a criminal. But you have to squint to read this apology. Why?

Dear Los Angeleno, Probably because it is only a half-assed “apology.” It really isn’t the Tesla owner who should be apologizing. But, they don’t want any retaliation against their car or self because of anger toward Musk, and not because he’s crazy. Let’s be honest here -we all love our crazy geniuses. It’s the criminals and immoral bastards we hate. These days, you’ll have to squint to read a public apology, cup your ear to faintly hear someone in power’s mea culpa, and check if a VIP is cheeking (instead of “swallowing) a bitter pill” for something they’ve done wrong. “Power corrupts, absolute power corrupts absolutely.” -Lord Acton. “The fundamental weakness of Western civilization is empathy, the empathy exploit.” -Elon Musk, c. and i. b. -SQ

Starting Again

Dear SQ, I want a new me. I’ve 15 good years left and I want them to count. I want to overhaul me while I uncluttered my house. What do I do with this motherlode I’ve outgrown? 

Dear Mother, What a wonderful problem! Shed that old skin and emerge a butterfly!  Redo your home and self. Break tasks down into sizeable chunks or nothing will ever get done. Easiest to decide what to KEEP and what to TRASH (including friends who aren't friends, make-up that's old and dry). The remaining big pile is the one that needs your thoughts: 1) GIVE AWAY: to charity, animal shelters (towels, sheets, blankets), vintage book and record stores; to your kids (inheritance early); 2) REPURPOSE: dead dildos as garden ornaments, coffee grounds as mulch, used baggies to rid cat litter waste; 3) SELL: Develop your renovation into a hobby. Artwork, valuables -contact auction houses, Etsy, or your neighborhood network. Garage sales. Then BUY: a dating app, new hair style, How To Host a Murder Mystery Party game, group exercise class. 

Think like a business owner. What to DO? Take rabbit-hole side trips often and enthusiastically to LEARN what you need to know -how does Esty work, what companies are best for dating, which sex toys are actually dead or just need new batteries. You loved these treasures, now love passing them forward so you can update with new ones. -SQ

Don’t Piss on Poison Ivy

Dear Suze, When we were kids, we often played in the woods behind our house. And naturally we had to pee sometimes, so we pretended to paint the leaves and trees yellow. Great fun until the time I got poison ivy all over my crouch, penis, hands... Agony for days. Now my crazy ex has posted a picture of the scar on my dick. I'm pissed. What's the recourse?

Dear Pisser, Several remedies are available to you. 1) Own the post and spin it to your advantage, “Yes, ladies, the scar tissue adds thickness to my girth,” or "Scars add character;" 2) Deny the post is you and make a joke; 3) Demand she remove the post or you'll seek resolution; 4) Report her to the social media site and insist they resolve the problem; or finally 5) Threaten or take her to Court. Most states have laws against "revenge porn" -dissemination of intimate images. -SQ  

Homemade Sex Toys

 

Dear Suz, I’m a long-haul trucker, married with teens. I love my wife and never been unfaithful, ‘tho I get lots of offers for sex. I make sex toys as a hobby for my lonely nights alone and for fun with the wife. Here’s my favorite. For an immediate climax, insert gently into the urethral meatus and twirl. 

Dear Toy Maker, Seems like you’ve handmade something clever, although the stabey part looks sharp and dangerous. Maybe that’s the lure. -SQ