True to my last entry, The Fiancé and I have invested some money (that we don't have) into a very elegant high-quality sketch book for each of us. Along with 2 pencils of different grades and a good eraser, I am now all set to start doing what I talked about doing lately. So on our way home from a family function yesterday, I had The Fiancé hop out of the car and rip off a twig of a suitable bush that we passed by. That twig then became my first "model" in my brand new sketch pad... not very creative, but a good warm-up exercise.

It really was all about getting over myself and making the first stroke in The Fiancé's presence. I can tell you that the result of my efforts isn't worthy of the kind of elegant sketch book it was produced into... but on the bright side I found myself very absorbed in my task in a matter of a few minutes, to the point that I reacted a bit grumpy and impatient when The Fiancé wanted to talk to me, even. I was sitting there for a good hour, not caring about turning on the TV, not caring about turning on the computer, not really caring that it was getting quite late, either. The final drawing will best be used to wipe my ass with next time, but I truly felt accomplished and balanced after I was done with it, and I had a good night's sleep.

It is a start, if nothing else. The images are slowly coming back into my mind also, but it still remains to be seen whether I will be able to make them flow from my head onto the paper... for right now, at any rate, I had my fun.

Think Frida Kahlo.

To end one of our typical actionless evenings that we are usually bumming through after a regular work day, The Fiancé and I watched the movie "Frida" with Salma Hayek last night. I had never seen it before, and I didn't think it was a particularly good or particularly bad movie - but in the end it sparked this really inspiring and good conversation between The Fiancé and I, about what the hell are we doing with our lives, and why are we not living it the way we want to.

You see, Frida Kahlo wasn't a particularly good painter by all measures of "technique". Her paintings were anatomically grotesque to say at best, and her use of color would have driven every Renaissance master up the wall in frustration. Yet she painted - she painted a lot, and her paintings are so full of expression and emotion that in the end it doesn't matter whether that the feet were too small for the rest of the body, or the hands fold in an unnatural way. She painted what she was feeling, and was not bothered by rules and restrictions of anatomy or technicalities.

To see why this is so important for our lives, you have to understand the following: The Fiancé is an incredibly skilled artist. He knows human anatomy like few other people I know, and he is full of awesome ideas for drawings, paintings... or whatever other project comes to his mind. He starts with these awesome emotion-filled sketches, but gets frustrated and discouraged a few days into his project and starts a new one, trying to make it "better" than the first one, without ever finishing anything. On top of that his drawings always end up stiff and robot-like, technical, and boring to look at from an emotional point of view. Why? Because he is trying to compare himself with the likes of Michelangelo or Botticelli, and every sketch of his that does not fulfill these self-inflicted standards of impossibility are, to him, not worth the paper they were drawn upon. He spends hours and hours on one pose, drawing and redrawing it, hoping for the perfect proportion, the perfect flow of movement, the perfect anatomy. If he never gets there (and most of the time he only gets to an awesome approximation), he gets depressed for days, puts away his sketchpad, and laments on how inept of an artist he is, and how he will never measure up to anything or anybody.

Me? I am not so much driven in one direction only in my creative approaches the way The Fiancé is, but I am struggling with a smiliar problem. I am not limiting myself to the fine arts, I see a lot of potential within me on many different levels: I have sufficient talent to draw. I am musically adept. I know how to write. I am good at photography. However, I am barely scratching the surface of all these things, I am trying to force myself to "decide" on where my "true" passion lies, and I get confused and frustrated, and I reached the point where I do none of these things anymore, because it is too hard to untangle my brain, and let the creative juices flow in whatever direction they would like to. I make excuses for myself and on why not to do any of these things, and by now I have myself sufficiently convinced that I am not good at anything, that I truly believe it. Writing? I know how to put one word next to another to make them sound good together, but I have no stories in my head to tell. Drawing? I know how to move a pencil about a blank sheet of paper, but I have no images in my head to express. Playing music? I know how to copy what others have done, but there is no music flowing from my heart into my instrument. Fotography? I have the tools to shoot the best of pictures, but I do not know where to look for and how to capture emotion with my expensive technical device.

At first sight, The Fiancé's and my problems seem to be different, but really they are not, and it took Frida's biography for us to realize this. We both give ourselves a huge load of horseshit of excuses to justify why we are NOT doing what we have this inner urge to do. We both know that we are not "like others", and that we are not satisfied with the cookie-cutter life we currently are leading, that every other "normal" person is leading. We both know from the bottom of our hearts that we are artists, artisans, bohemes, yet we are hiding this true self safely away behind this cloak of every day life and excuses on why things have to be the way they are, and this cloak works so well, that we even manage to kid ourselves and each other successfully.

The Fiancé does not finish any of his pieces because they are technically incorrect, therefore sacrificing all emotion or passion he may have felt for them when he first thought them up. He thinks he will never have his own gallery opening and nobody will ever have the right to call his pieces "good", unless they could be mistaken for Da Vinci's. I do not sit down and write my book because even though it may be technically correct "nobody will publish it anyway", and I do not sit down and paint because "there is no point" to my paintings, I play no more music because "I can only copy, and who will consider me a good musician if I can't even improvise", and I am hesitant about taking pictures because my technically correct images seem so stiff and emotionless even to myself.

Excuses! What in the world keeps The Fiancé from walking up to his easel and to put all his emotions onto his canvas, and NOT caring whether or not his figures are correct? Why can I not reach for a slab of clay and start to sculpt my emotions into one piece of art, not caring whether or not I have the "proper training" to be a sculptor? Why are we both so hung up on technicalities, that we cannot see our talents and skills and work with them and our hearts as we should???

Frida Kahlo seemed not to have been held back by such thoughts. She felt and she painted. Simple as that. What a huge inspiration to the both of us.

Our conversation lasted until deep into the night... during which I underwent all sorts of emotional transformations: from envy to frustration to helplessness to confusion to anger to excitement to motivation. When I finally fell asleep in The Fiancé's embrace, I felt as if we had just made love- so strong was the feeling of connection with him, and reaffirmation of our similar outlooks on life and desire of how to approach it that is different from most other people. He himself was unable to sleep for another few hours, filled with thoughts about the things we had talked about. He looked beaten this morning, but also hopeful and motivated.

I will truly try not to let myself get distracted anymore by the mundane and boring but neccessary things such as work, and will try to truly live out what already lives inside my head and desperately tries to be let out. Afterall, we are not NORMAL people, we are not the status quo, and I see no reason why we should spend our life in the mold of normalcy like everybody else does.

As a start, I have my camera with me now at all times, and I shall be damned if I will not take a minute's time to get it out and start shooting if I feel the need to, instead of suppressing it and walking right along in the pursuit of the "responsible" things in life.

And... who would have thought... the second this decision was made, images start to tentatively take shape in my head once more...

You know who I haven't written about in a very long time?

Yes... her... the woman of my dreams, who nobody will ever measure up to. And really there is no reason to either, me being 6000 miles away from her for good, and her having uttered some homophobic remarks on the day I wanted to spill my guts to her.

But is she still on my mind? Apparently. Well, I still compare every woman I am remotely attracted to with her, and none is ever measuring up to her, but that's a different story. I guess it's because The Fiancé has mentioned her yesterday, but I had the most amazing and realistic dream about her last night.

Of course dreams have a way of fading the more the day progresses, so there is not too much of it left in my memory anymore, but I still remember her unimaginable beauty and my incredibly painful longing for her. I remember fragments... she was angry with me, she hated me... I was trying desperately to get in touch with her and explain myself to her... and as her ire came crashing down on me like fire when I finally caught up with her and groveled before her trying to tell her how much I loved her, I was letting it all wash over me gladly, grateful that she was noticing me and paying attention to me at all, and that I could be in the same room as her, breathing the same air she was breathing.

The intensity of how I was feeling was amazing for it having been just a dream, and when I woke up I was completely disoriented and lost, for she was not sitting before me anymore, looking at me with these sparkling sapphire blue eyes, only an arm's length away from my touch. I was confused about her showing up in my dream, after I have been back home for over six months now, and not having spent one conscious thought on her that I know of. I didn't realize that she was still there... so persistantly... even though I have met her only three times in my entire life, superficially, and never once touched her beyond a friendly hug.

It frightens me to think about the implications of this. How can she be so important that I am comparing every other woman out there with her? How can a woman whom I have never had any sort of relation or connection with have such an impact on my life - still? And how will any woman ever be able to knock her off her pedestal, for I have never seen anybody so beautiful and captivating like her before? If I keep making these excuses to myself of "she is nothing like her", then I will never get to make all the experiences I am so longing to have - and already could have had.

I need to ponder on this. There is only one Jo on this earth, she has never been interested in me, if for nothing else than because of her views on homosexuality, and she is 6000 miles away - I will never in my life see her again. She is the most unlikely candidate for being my "standard", yet she has put herself there and it looks like she's there to stay.

Today I met with my best friend at her place after work. We are planning on a once-a-week girly evening by the schedule, because since we're "all grown up" and members of the working world it seems completely impossible to be spontaneous anymore and meet up whenever we feel like it.

So over chocolates and potatoe chips at some point certainly my Saturday night came up. Of course.

We talked and I contemplated, and at some point I asked her if she thought I was a promiscuous person. A whore, to put it bluntly.

Let me put things into perspective. My female friends and acquaintances? One hasn't had sex in almost three years. One is married and has two kids. One has had only one orgasm with all the men she's ever slept with. Another one called the first one abovementioned "abnormal" for being able to orgasm everytime she had sex with her ex boyfriend, and for having sex 3 to 4 times a week after living together for two years. One thinks that giving head is nasty, masturbating gets you to hell, and being on top is something she'd never do because it makes her tits dangle into the guy's face. One has had only one single boyfriend in all the 10 or 11 years I have known her, and still lives with her father at 34 years old. One complained to me about her ex, who wanted sex in more or less regular intervals that can be expected in a relationship, and how she therefore had to fake frequent headaches. One always has her "period" whenever her husband wants sex. One has huge moral issues with any kind of pornography and the watching thereof. One lost her virginity at the age of 21 to a guy whom she got married to 5 years later. One acts as if she is above and beyond the carnal act of sex and treats it as if it was nonexistant altogether, yet has gotten knocked up way before she got married.

You see, I really do not consider myself in any way abnormal or a pervert. I have not had more sexual partners than I could count on my fingers, I have had one threesome with my husband-to-be and a very trusted and respected friend of mine, and I am openly yet quite inexperiencedly bisexual, having done nothing more than kissed two females in my entire life. I have no moral objections to masturbation, I enjoy whatever position feels good without worrying about the optics of dangling girly bits, and giving head is one of my specialties. I have the ability to have multiple orgasms and I do come everytime I have sex with my partner. I watch and enjoy pornography on occasion, and I do not mind The Fiancé jerking off to porn when I am not at home and unavailable. I still have sex about 3 to 4 times a week, even though The Fiancé and I are rather close to hitting our 3-year-mark, and I would be rather alarmed if things were otherwise. I have a genital piercing, and I sometimes allow The Fiancé to fuck me up the butt. And I have no problem talking about it openly to whoever asks me, because it's the most natural thing in the world that everybody does, and if they don't they are THINKING about doing it.

Like I said, I do not consider any of this out of the norm, or promiscuous. Not even quite adventurous. Or in any way unusual. I actually think of myself as rather inexperienced still - almost conservative even... at least compared to some other practiced lifestyles out there, next to which I must seem like a nun, and which I have a lot of work for to do to be able to "measure up" against.

However it is hard to believe that all these things that I consider to be so "cookie cutter" apparently are so exotic and extreme to most people I know. These girls and women whom I know, are they ever doing more than laying on their backs once a week in the dark, granting their partners their weekly orgasm and then being ashamed of secretly masturbating afterwards to get their own pleasure? It can hardly be any other way, for this is what I see in their eyes when they grow large when I talk about the things I do that seem so utterly normal and boring to me. The truly shocking thing about this is not that they may think me a promiscuous whore and completly lacking any morals or dignity... the truly shocking thing is that there are so many girls and women out there who are afraid of letting go, afraid to find out what they really like, afraid to teach their partners, and afraid to be true to and proud of themselves. They are afraid to experiment and to seek new horizons, they hide behind codes of society and deny themselves all the pleasure they could experience, if they were just able to cut out all the indoctrinated rules of their society and/or religion and truly be themselves.

Having slept with another man in agreement with and presence of my husband-to-be is less morally questionable than to feign embarrassment and shock at the imagination of such, and then secretly and ashamedly masturbating to that very same thought, all the while worrying that masturbation is evil in the first place.

Talking about sex openly with my friends and even blogging about it is less offending than blocking out everything remotely sexual completely as if it does not exist altogether, yet having to get up half an hour early every morning to get your child to kindergarten before going to work.

Being able to have an orgasm every time I have frequent sex with my partner does not make me "abnormal", it makes me happy and satisfied and overall balanced and content with my daily life.

Having a good sex life should not be exclusive to socially perceived "kinks" and "whores", or a "certain breed of people". It should be the normal thing that it is to me and some other women for every woman out there, and I wish that only half of the time I talk about sex in general and my sex life in particular a woman would get inspired to do what she really thinks of doing when the night is dark and her thoughts are hers alone.

Maybe this really is another reason why I pour myself out like I do on this blog, even at the risk of any real-life close friends finding me here (again) and knowing more about me than is "acceptable", while they themselves shroud themselves in privacy and decent secrecy and probably shake their heads at me in pity behind my back. I am not really an exhibitionist, but goddamn, if this blog helps only one single woman to grab the bull by his balls and start to be true to herself and shake off her shackles of false modesty and seemliness, then I have done a good deed to my gender-mates indeed.

When I lost my virginity at the age of 16 to a guy who was completely not worth the honor, I arose from the bed afterwards, observed the little droplet of blood on the sheets, and suddenly my surroundings looked somehow changed to me. It was almost as if the colors were a bit more intense, and the air in my lungs had a different quality to it. Richer, maybe. Not that my experience was all that great (on the contrary, in fact), but the simple fact that I was now "experienced" and a member of a different "league" somehow made me a different person. Made me see things in a different light.

Now, four days after my first threesome, I can say that almost the same thing has happened all over again. Of course there was no droplet of blood on the sheets to mark the transformation, but things certainly feel changed all over again. I am now elevated to yet another "league", and I feel accomplished like I only do when I have finally reached a goal I have been working for for a long time. I have done something which I always thought takes a "certain kind of person" to be able to do, and realized that I actually am that type of person. And it's a dirty little secret which The Fiancé have been sharing behind hidden grins at each other across tables filled with other people, and which I enjoy thinking about with glee when I compare myself with the "normal" people out there.

On top of this changed awareness of self, this little episode certainly also has changed things between The Fiancé and I - simply by it NOT having changed one goddamn thing at all. This will not make sense to you... but the simple fact that things are as beautiful and harmonious between us as if nothing "weird" ever happened makes me feel so much more in love with him now, and makes me respect and adore him so much more than ever before. His natural and self-confident way of talking about this experience boggles my mind in all the best ways - for it makes me think about how many men (including nearly all of whom I have ever been with before) would be so disgusted and turned off by the idea - not to mention insanely jealous - that I wouldn't even dare to bring it up in the first place, much less suggest a definite person I had in mind for such a thing.

He is still talking about a "next time" as naturally and matter-of-factly as he is talking about the next time him and I will make love, and even though I think for right now I got it "out of my system" and do not plan on doing it again soon, it gives me the exciting goosebumps to realize the way he is treating this matter now. I guess it took for him to see that Steven is very casual and uncomplicated about sex, and that he can talk as normally with him afterwards as if they had just shared a bottle of wine instead of a woman - his woman.

Mr. Cuba? He's emailed us twice since Saturday, emphasizing on how nice of an evening he had, and how pleasant and handsome he thinks The Fiancé is - and me too (lol). I am still open to meeting him again, but The Fiancé wants to politely and nicely tell him that he really isn't into him at all. I don't mind, cause I now do know where to get my threesomes if I want them - but bummer, cause Steven is a) technically open for everything but really not bisexual, and b) not attractive/interesting enough for me to even want to see him have sex with The Fiancé, even if he'd do it in the first place.

Like my best friend said to me when I told her about it... "What I don't understand with all of this - what in the world do you see in Steven???"

Nothing, really. I love him as one of my best friends, yes. I love him as one of the smartest people I will ever meet, yes. But neither is he very handsome, nor does he have a good body, nor is he in any way specially endowed. He looks much older than his 32 years, he chain-smokes, has bad mouth-hygiene, and spends his days and nights in front of his computer playing WoW, unemployed and living off welfare ever since I know him. But at the same time he is the most rational and open person when it comes to the "human" parts of life, he understands women on some weird level that I haven't seen in any other guy yet, managed to look right through me on the very first day we met when with every other person I manage to keep them safely outside my walls for a very long time before I allow them a first peek inside - and therefore he has me at the tip of his fingers as his loyal friend no matter what. I can entrust him with an intimate matter such as my love life, and I can safely involve him because of this trust and friendship that we have. The Fiancé calls him a "dick in a jar" - readily and safely available when we want it... I call him a very trusted friend who will never betray me or hurt me, even if I allow him into such an intimate part of my life.

At any rate, I feel very good and positive about what happened, and I am most grateful that this little adventure seemed to have improved my relationship with The Fiancé even more, and on a level that I least expected. :)

This is the post you may have been waiting for? No... or maybe yes, but maybe not in exactly the way you predicted?

Maybe this is how the circle closes, I don't know. In fact, I don't know much at all... my brain is still busy processing what really happened.

Mr. Cuba? Incredibly handsome. Dark skinned, light eyes, the most beautiful smile, Brad Pitt's nose. Very sophisticated. Educated, lived and worked in Dubai for 12 years. Speaks four languages, is very well behaved and charming. An overall very pleasant individual. We met, and immediately he seemed to be more interested in The Fiancé than in me, even though he was very charming with me also. I liked that a lot, and I liked it even more when The Fiancé left for the restroom, how Mr. Cuba turned to me with one of his charming smiles and complimented me on The Fiancé, and what nice and good-looking man he thinks he is.

He brought a bottle of wine for us to enjoy while we got more "acquainted" with each other later that evening.

The problem?

- we didn't click. Not on any kind of level. The awkward silences inbetween were a little bit too awkward and a little bit too long, and the topics we managed to talk about were a little bit too bland. It is certainly not like our requirements for opening our relationship up to another person include perfect mental compatibility, or even great conversations or equal opinions about god and politics and even an agreement on wheter the sun rises in the east or in the west - but we should at least be able to hold a conversation that goes beyond "I am so-and-so and I do such-and-such for a living, and I am into this because I am expecting this-and-that".

So we left after 2 hours of trying to "click", and went home. The Fiancé shook his head and said with a laugh: "We may as well call Steven". I said nothing. After a while he said: "After tonight, I can see what you mean when you said you'd rather go with someone you already know and are comfortable with than try to get to know some stranger."

Half an hour later we were at his place to have some drinks together. By then it was almost midnight, but Steven never minds late visitors. We played a bit on his computer, talked about things friends talk about, talked about our "date" with Mr. Cuba - and an hour and a half or so later I found myself lying sweaty and naked between The Fiancé and Steven on the bed, trying to catch my breath again.

Yeah... holy shit, huh?

Dirty details? Not this time, dear readers. Turn on your next MMF porno movie, and you'll have a pretty good idea. There's a whole new association in my mind now when I hear the word "sandwich". ;)

And yes, holy shit indeed. Lose your goddamn dildos, ladies, and get yourselves one real-life cock for each orifice, and you'll hear angels sing, I promise you.

That is... if you have a perfect man like mine, of course, who is man enough to not only tolerate and partake in such activities for your personal pleasure, but actually enjoys the heck out of playing tag with another guy between your legs, and *CENSORED FOR NOT FRIEND SAFE CONTENT*

This much I have told my best friend... this is how much I would tell anybody who asked me... if anybody would ask me... and the rest you can have fun imagining yourselves.

Just make sure that the next day you do not have a family function to attend to... for walking inconspicuously and keeping a straight face after a night like last night is a very close to impossible thing to do - and I do have unfortunate experience with that too, lol.

Of course I asked The Fiancé afterwards how he felt about what had happened. I was very worried when I first leaned back into Steven's arms while they undressed me, to be kissed and caressed by him, and observed The Fiancé's reactions very closely. I remembered all too well how weirded out and uncomfortable he was when he watched Kim caressing me and holding my hand in front of him, so what will actual intercourse with another man will possibly have done to him???

He said: "No worries, it felt very natural."

And then: "Want more?"

I almost fainted with relief and surprise. :)

And just to prove that I am not full of shit when I keep talking about The Fiancé's legendary and unbelievable stamina and skill, I'll have you know that Steven, he of the self-given title of master lover and woman-knower and best-man-a-woman-could-ever-dream-of-fucking, actually switched to German to say to me with raised eyebrows and barely suppressed admiration: "If he's actually able to keep this up with such an intensity with you all the time, no wonder you do want to spend your life with him."

And then, to The Fiancé: "Dude, you are putting me to shame."

Heh.

To think that my first resolution for the new year has already come true at the beginning of the second month, I am looking forward to this year with much excitement... :)

Time to think about what I am expecting, or what I would like to get out of an arrangement like the one we are striving to establish, maybe?

Given, we do not know Mr. Cuba yet, we do not know if we will like him, if he will like us, if we will be mutually attracted to each other, if he is sharing our interests enough for us to be able to build a friendship at all, and most of all - what his own expectations are.

But we are meeting him on Saturday - he may or may not be to our liking - but the time is right for a sober evaluation of what I really want anyway. Cause if it's not him, it may be someone else altogether, and you never know when opportunity strikes.

Did I tell you that we almost ended up in a threesome with one of my best friends after my birthday party? One of my best friends... let's call him Steven, whom I had a short sexual relation with half a decade ago, while we were busy establishing a very good frienship that lasts until today, and even survived my 3 1/2 years lasting absence. Feelings in the traditional sense were never involved, so keeping this friendship when the sexual relation ended was a very easy and non-awkward thing for us to do - after all, we were never anything but friends with benefits in the first place.

At any rate... I got quite drunk and quite horny that night, and The Fiancé must have read my mind, for he asked me almost directly and without me saying anything if that's what I wanted, and we played around with the idea for quite a bit among ourselves. Steven miraculously caught on to it as well from across the table in the very loud bar in which he could not possibly have overheard our whispering. He held up three fingers, raising one eyebrow questioningly, and giving us a dirty grin - how he figured this I still don't quite know, but in the end The Fiancé didn't want to go for it, because we were both too drunk to make that sort of decision with a clear head - aside from the fact that The Fiancé wasn't too keen on getting intimate with a newfound friend of his own for fear of possible awkwardness afterwards. When I was sober again the next morning I very much understood and agreed with The Fiancé's decision, even though for me Steven was the most logical choice of all: we've been there, we've done that, I already know I am not emotionally attached to him, and I already know we will never be awkward about it afterwards, out of experience.

In the end, the general consensus was that The Fiancé'd much rather get to know someone entirely new, with whom he isn't involved with as a friend in the first place. Someone to make friends with first, and then involve him or her into our private lives if the chemistry is right.

Now I am not sure if The Fiancé and I are on the same page as far as the nature of this "friendship" is concerned. I have the feeling that maybe he would want for this to be a one-time-thing only, before we move on to the next person, as to avoid possible dangers of emotional attachment and future problems. Personally, I am tending more towards building a tight friendship, and having this person around for as long as it works. Ideally, I think I would want for this friend to be a man (for I would very probably be jealous of a girl - a girl would be more of a one-night stand for me), someone who is obviously more interested in The Fiancé than in me, someone that The Fiancé is truly attracted to physically, someone who is on our level of education, shares interests with us, will share activities with us on occasion that go way beyond the bedroom. I am getting immense glee out of the pure thought of us and our "friend" going out together with other friends of ours, sharing this dirty little secret, and nobody else having as much as a clue as to what the nature of this friendship really is all about.

In a way Steven is still a good candidate for this - since I already know that he poses no threat or danger to our relationship or my emotions in any way, and I am sure he'd get a kick out of being involved with us in such a way. He is able to keep things quiet to the world outside, yet he treats sex between people in a most natural and un-awkward casual way, keeping emotions out of this entirely. If there ever has been clichée casual sex, then it was the sex between him and I, I swear. So, he'd be good, if it weren't for the little fact that he is, in fact, not exactly gay, and that him and The Fiancé are building this friendship, which The Fiancé isn't about to take to any level he is not comfortable with. Which I totally respect.

However, this leaves us with the problem of finding ourselves someone suitable, and quality people that fit our requirements are certainly very hard to find.

Judging from Mr. Cuba's profile, he's merely looking for a hot and adventurous night. What he says in person, we obviously do not know yet. I am curious, though. At any rate, I am really, really eager to get my threesome soon, lol.