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Two Free Birds

Shit happens and sometimes sharing it with strangers is better than therapy.

Category Archives: relationships

Real life is not so simple.  It’s not a neat package of wrong and right and if you think it is, you’re missing out on a lot of living.  I’m reminded of this most when it comes to love.  Love is complicated, love is messy and often love is unexpected.  If you can’t always choose who you fall in love with, are you to blame when you fall for someone you probably shouldn’t?  To be more precise, and I’ve talked about this before much to the dismay of random strangers, can an affair be excused if it’s an affair of great love? Or shall I say great passion?

No, I’m not having an affair.  So all my friends with boyfriends/husbands need not worry.

I was only reminded of the peculiarity of love while listening to an interview with Antonia Fraser on The Diane Rehm Show (I should probably up my monthly donation to NPR).  Antonia Fraser’s memoir, “Must You Go? My Life with Harold Pinter,” is next on my must read list.  Antonia had an affair with the playwright Harold Pinter while married to her first husband, Sir Hugh Fraser.  They connected one night at a celebration for the opening night of The Birthday Party, a play directed by Fraser’s brother-in-law.  On her way out, Antonia realized she hadn’t spoken a word to the playwright all night.  She made her way over to him, exclaimed that she enjoyed the play and he responded with, “Must you go?”  She admitted it “wasn’t essential.”  They talked until 6 am.  That night would be the beginning of their 33 year relationship.

Four months later her husband asked Antonia if she was in love with someone else.  That was when Harold Pinter, a Jewish boy from the East End and Antonia Fraser, a Catholic aristocrat became the subject of public scandal.  Although, Antonia’s first husband seemed to be rather amicable.  His response to the discovery of the identity of his wife’s new love was, “Very Suitable.”  I also read, in an article from The Guardian, that Antonia was warned by her brother early in their affair.  He told her,  “You have a special problem. You are a woman and a strong character­ yet you want your husband to be stronger. Women with strong characters who want to dominate are always fine because there are plenty of weak men around. Also plenty of strong men for weak women. But yours is a special problem.”  In the article, Antonia concluded, “He’s quite right in a maddening way.”  I can’t even begin to tell you how much I identified with that statement.

The part of the story that I connected with the most was the reaction of Fraser’s father.  He did not approve, especially concerning the morality of the affair.  Fraser wrote, “I thought about trying to explain to him about passion, but what’s the point? He only likes ­people like Myra Hindley, who are apparently repenting of ­passion.”  That’s the thing, isn’t it?  Everyone always forgets about passion… or forgets about the power of it, I should say.  Probably because so many of us are lacking it in our lives, but who wants love without passion?  If given the chance, I’m fairly certain most people would give into passion.

All of this got me thinking about my past loves—really there is only one.  It all seems so clear now, what went wrong.  It’s not only in the words of Antonia Fraser’s brother but also in something Harold Pinter himself said.  He once told Antonia, “I love you wildly, and that is my solace.”  What an amazing thing to say to someone—I love you wildly.  I finally realized why I never truly wanted to marry my ex and thus, why we never worked out.  Neither one of us loved each other wildly, I think we just loved each other mildly.



The other day, my gusband said to me, “You know, we don’t have to do everything together.  You are not going to find a man if you’re always doing gay things.”  He may have phrased that differently, but that is what I remember and memory is infallible, especially when influenced by liquor, so it must be an exact quote.  I live with my gusband—gay husband, best friend, better looking than me—and he has been my plus one since my ex’s therapist gave him the courage to break it off with me over a year ago (by therapist, I mean that lady he went to see like three times).  It’s come to my attention—both of our attentions—that we our killing each other’s love lives.  They say you need to go out alone in order to meet men because a group is intimidating, but I’m going to guess a group of gays is even more intimidating.

When I go out, I am usually surrounded by no fewer than two gay men and lately that number has increased to three (okay, five).  I love them, but I guess I can see how this factor might keep men from hitting on me.  Sometimes I even push one aside and yell, “Stop looking like my boyfriend (I’m talking to you, Anthony).”  I even joke that one of them is eventually going to have to do me a solid and touch my boobs every now and then if I never find a man (again, I’m talking to you, Anthony).  Serious dry spell going on over here, but I’m not the only one struggling.  My gusband gets hit on by straight men—all.the.time.  Only straight men, actually.  Well, men who refuse to believe they are gay, anyway.  Point is, he doesn’t need straight assholes looking for an experiment and I probably shouldn’t sequester myself off inside a ring of gays.

Actually, what I really want to know is—if my life is so Will & Grace, where the hell is Karen?  She’d have the answer to this dilemma… and a boot flask.



P.S. If a man is going to be afraid of my gay friends, I’d rather just be single…  cause I am never giving them up!

Also, I think I overdid it on the long dash and dot dot dots, but I never said grammar was my forte.

Oh, Esquire.  Much like your female counterpart, Cosmopolitan, I don’t know whether to love you, hate you, or just roll my eyes at you.  To be honest, it’s a little of all three and that is precisely why I can never resist reading you.

This morning, I came across this article, The Surprising Science of a One-Night Stand.  Here’s an actual snippet…

“If you appreciate romance with your casual sex — such as hugging and holding hands — a one-night stand is preferable to a long-term affair. If you’re feeling extremely horny, however, the latter is ideal. And if you can’t get enough oral sex, you belong in a loving relationship.”

This actually made me think about my own reservations towards the things that make me uncomfortable about love.  Like how awkward I feel holding hands with a guy unless I know I am never going to see him again (or during an actual relationship, obviously).  Turns out there is good reason for that and it’s not because I am neurotic (yay).  According to the latest findings of Peter K. Jonason, a University of South Alabama psychology professor, booty call partners don’t usually engage each other in the intimacy of things like holding hands because they are trying to keep emotional confusion at bay.  Whereas, during a one-night stand, intimate acts like kissing and hand holding are important in establishing a dynamic between two people.  So, all my resistance towards acts of faux intimacy have really just been attempts to protect myself against becoming emotionally attached in the grey area that is casual sex.    

Not to worry, according to the article, booty calls make up for a lack of intimacy with an abundance of freaky sex.  Also, strangers have more post-coital conversation, and girlfriends give more head.  

 Read more:

Food for thought.


More food for thought…

A Princeton study found that having sex can boost brain growth and decrease anxiety.  It also found that virgins experience high levels of brain stifling stress.   Tell that to the next person to call you a slut.

Well, Lisa, I was hoping you would end your MIA streak and post something so that I would have an easier transition from my last post.  Help a girl out!  I really wanted to tell my virginity story, but thought it might be a bit much right after my post about a one night stand.  You know, sometimes I actually like to save face.  Sometimes.

Anyway, I was thinking about sex (is that all I think about).  Not the act of having it, but about how single women balance the need to satisfy physical urges with the need to satisfy emotional ones.  Let’s face it women, we do need both to be satisfied and I think I was maybe, just maybe, thinking about this because of my little encounter last weekend.  Also, I was reading one of my favorite blogs, Living Flirtatiously, and she just happened to be discussing sex and evolution… and why everyone seems to be so confused.  Her main question was whether true love was thrust upon us culturally or built inside us naturally.  Are we supposed to love one person forever and ever?  Personally, I think maybe that is just what Disney movies want us to believe.  She on the other hand spoke to an actual expert, or two.  She asked Christopher Ryan, Ph.D, and Cacilda Jethá, M.D., the authors of Sex at Dawn:The Prehistoric Origins of Modern Sexuality, to weigh in.  Here is some of what they had to say, you can read the rest here.

“Several factors conspire to make long-term sexual monogamy difficult for people.  We evolved to be sexually responsive to novelty.  In hunter-gatherer societies, our ancestors were genetically predisposed to be attracted to new and unusual partners [this explains my recent fascination with the handlebar mustached sandwich shop worker] because that helped them to avoid incest and to have offspring with greater genetic variety– which helped them to become more fit to survive.”

“In their twenties, men’s testosterone levels begin a long decline, often experienced as diminished passion.  One of the few things that can reliably revive sagging testosterone is exposure to a new woman; even a brief chat with an attractive female can raise men’s testosterone levels by 14 percent, as one study found.”

Okay, if you thought that was good, wait until you read this.

Please say I am not the only one nerding out right now.

“Another problem is that many people in the West marry because they’re “in love,” which is a temporary, possibly delusional state we should not expect to last forever.”

“The intense infatuation that makes us want to spend all of our time together only exists until we really do spend all of our time together.  Then, like hunger satisfied, it gradually dissipates.  While married life can be deeply satisfying and uniquely meaningful, it cannot sustain the passion of those first couple of months or years.  Many American couples have unrealistic expectations about the longevity of this initial phase and consider its passing a sign of a failed relationship, which is unfair, unrealistic, and unfortunate.”

I don’t know if all of this makes me happy or slightly sad.   If I am constantly at the whim of chemicals released from my brain than maybe my one night stand was just my brain’s attempt at getting high again.  Yeah, that’s it.


Everyone knows that the hot sex of a new relationship fizzles with time.  I may have never been married, but eight years with the same man is definitely long enough to experience the inevitable nights alone reading books in bed (books full of hot, steamy sex that seems so much better than whatever I’d get if I went into the living room and pulled my boyfriend away from the Xbox for 8 minutes).  What I am surprised to discover is that monogamous, long-term relationships are not the only types of relationships to fall victim to boring, quick, and predictable sex.  It can happen with your f*ck buddy too.  (I tried typing out fuck and it made me feel dirty.  Something about that little asterisk makes it so much easier to handle.  It’s stupid really since I just typed out the word fuck twice inside these parentheses.)

Yes, I have one- don’t make me type it out and debate over whether or not I should use the asterisk again.  I have a friend with benefits.  He came into my life because A., I’m not exactly looking for Mr. Right at the moment; B., dating and trying to get to know people got seriously boring– how many times can one person tell their life story in a given month–; and C., I still have needs.  Anyway, we have now entered a new territory for me– the long-term friends with benefits relationship and the last few times we’ve met up I’ve been less than satisfied.  I think I was even a little rude last time.  It was just that he finished so quickly (after talking big game in order to entice me to drop the “important” things I was doing and come over).  I was shocked and I couldn’t help myself when I blurted out, “Wait.  Did you already cum?  Seriously?”  He just smiled sheepishly and told me that he was surprised by it too.  Look, if I wanted that kind of sex I’d get me a boyfriend and date him for another eight years… just kidding.  I’m an asshole.

This brings me to a new dilemma.  Is it time to break it off with the FB?  How do you even do that?  Is the fade away appropriate?  And does this mean I have to take my life story off the shelf, dust it off and repeat it to somebody else?  I’m just gonna start making shit up.  Seems easier that way… and a whole lot more fun.


P.S.  I’m pretty sure I have no idea how to correctly use a semi-colon.  It looked good to me, though.

P.S.S.  A good friend of mine, who I greatly respect because she is probably one of the most selfless and kind-hearted people I know, told me I needed to clear the clutter.  As in, my FB is taking up time that could be spent with someone I might actually want a relationship with.  I like that saying– clear the clutter– maybe I will tell him that.  Sorry, guy,  I just need to clear the clutter.

P.S.S.S. This is getting out of control, but I just have one more thing to add.  I updated my about me section and you should give it a looksy.  Riveting stuff.