After the New Year’s Eve revelry, the hangover. After the pre-holiday excitement of posting to my first blog, the post-holiday realization that it’s already time to post again. Doh!
Not that posting is comparable to a hangover…
It’s actually exciting because I don’t have a pre-determined plan for what I’m going to write about each time. It’s almost as new to me as it is to you! The subject might be whatever is the pressing thought of the day. The problem is, I have many pressing thoughts each day. And just as with most of us, I also have to juggle and attempt to balance my time – making room for job, relationships, household chores, writing Licking the Spoon (my book in progress that has spawned this blog), and now posting to the blog itself; and that’s the short list!
A friend who read my first post commented on the wide range of topics that I mentioned I might blog about. All he knew about the book was that it has to do with food, sex and relationship. No doubt he was surprised to see things such as brain chemistry, nature, health and more included. It got me thinking about how I came to have the interests that I have, and whether there is a cohesion that intricately weaves them together. (There is.)
So first, my interest in sex: I’ve had it for just about as long as I can remember. I’ve told friends the story, repeated fondly by some, of a pivotal event that took place in my life at the age of four. My mom, visiting friends, happened to look out the window into the front yard just in time to see me pulling down my pants before a couple of neighborhood boys. Aack!
They were close to me in age, and there was no coercion involved; they simply asked, and I acquiesced. They were curious, and I apparently enjoyed their attention. But imagine the shock for my poor mom! Raised by a Victorian mother, she had turned out to be a bit of a ‘bad girl’ for awhile herself and was probably horrified to imagine her innocent little one going down that same path.
Well, as she spanked me (a behavior I don’t condone, by the way – except between consenting adults), with each whack she shrieked, “Are you going to do that again?!?” I suppose it was the shape of things to come that, each time, I defiantly shouted, “YES!!!”
As it turned out, I was prophetic – though I’m a little more careful about who I pull my pants down for these days. But I mark that as the beginning of a lifetime of fearless and thrilling travel onto the high seas of sex.
Alas, my mother was not so excited about my chosen path. In fact, it may have been only shortly afterward that a book titled Female Sex Perversion appeared on her bookshelf.