Tuesday, February 9, 2010

Talking Dirty Martini (NC-17 Warning)

Once upon a time, in a land called Miracle Mile, far far away from the San Fernando Valley, I dated a nice Jewish boy. He was born in Odessa Russia and raised in Brooklyn NY. I celebrated Hanukah and Passover with him the way my Catholic family celebrated Easter and Christmas; with minimal prayer and church but lots of great food and booze. We were happy until his evil mother, who didn’t want her only son to marry a slightly older Mexican single mom from East L.A., cast her evil spell on him with money, a Saab and the lure of an apartment back in New York City.

It was during this relationship with “The Russian” as my Pop used to call him, that I discovered the joy of drinking Vodka. I also discovered what a beautiful penis looked like.

The Russian didn’t know the beauty of his penis. It was a good size and a perfect shape and color. It was a little big for my taste and it made intercourse uncomfortable sometimes, but I did love to look at it. I would hold it in my hand, looking at either side of it, tipping it one way and then the other. It was pretty, a soft pink and beige color and the texture was smooth. I’d look at it in broad daylight and say to him “It really is perfect.”

The Russian had an underlying resentment of his penis because his mother waited until he was 12 years old to have him circumcised. He said that he was out of school recovering for a two months. He said it was so painful that he couldn’t move and that it remained sore for a while. My whole body would ache in sympathy when he told me the story which always stemmed from my compliments of his perfect penis. “Why? Why did your mother wait so long to circumcise you?” I would ask. "You're Jewish!" As a mother, I couldn’t comprehend it. I wanted an answer but I now realize that the question was rhetorical. There’s just no good explanation for it. The only thing I could give the situation credit for was that the operation was ultimately a great success.

When I was married I found myself surrounded mostly by other married moms. Now, I find myself surrounded by beautiful single women. Some are moms, some have never been married nor had children. The American novelist James Lane Allen said "We do not attract what we want, but what we are.” So now I spend most of my free time with beautiful single women, some who are going through a break up, and I myself am the same.

Recently, two of my friends and I were home and I mixed up some dirty martinis. We started talking about marriage and sex, relationships and sex, good kissing ("comfortable"), great kissing ("a journey"), sex and divorce ("still hot"), butts, butts while bent over ("they all look the same"), lubricant from a bottle (“why?”), natural lubricant, grandma panties (“gasp!” and "I've done that.") The martinis started to kick in and soon one of my friends started whispering as she described an encounter with a handsome executive whose penis was really small but of good girth. We leaned in to hear her. Searching for words she finally blurted, “It was like a button!”

I may have had some compassion for Mr. Button except he’d not been very nice to my friend and she's lovely, beautiful and hot! The vodka felt like it was swooshing the information through my mind like a huge water park slide. “A button?!!” I replied, looked over at our other friend and she was frowning. I think we both started shaking our heads in the direction of “no” when I went on a rant. “Oh no girl, we gotta use Braille!” Puzzled they looked at me and I closed my eyes and mimicked my hands groping someone else down below. “We gotta read what’s there with our hands…down there!” We all started laughing, a release for me because it’s been a while since I had the opportunity to kiss and read in Braille a new sexy book.

I am happy that I remember what it’s like to make out with a great pair of lips all night, groping and building anticipation. To inhale that special new scent of someone’s face, the awkwardness and then the momentum, to peek at their closed eyes, a perfectly combed hairstyle tousled by exploring fingers. My friends and I agreed that make out sessions are often as good or better than sex itself.

It’s so dirty, martini, talk.

Monday, February 8, 2010

The Other Side of Pretty

When I separated from my EX, I kinda left in a hurry. Things had become volatile and my 8 year old daughter and I were out from one day to the next. My big brother Ben took Daisy dog in for a bit during my separation transition. When I told him she was gone he said, “She was a good dog and we enjoyed having her. I’m sorry that I never knew her on the other side of pretty.”

The other side of pretty?

The other side of pretty!

Some days, I don’t know which side of pretty I am on. I do know that the unhealthy relationship made me feel like an old lumpy sack of russet potatoes and at one point, I began to manifest that thought on the outside.

In my former house with my EX, we had few mirrors and none that were full length. I suppose neither of us wanted to see what we had become, as a couple or as individuals. Even though he was still handsome and slender, his six-pack was now short a few notches. Not that I care about that, but he does.

Buddism teaches that if you want to learn about something, observe it. I know that I was content to see our lives through peripheral vision. No light, no mirrors, just dark grey air that I tried to avoid by working late and having a room of my own. I wanted the marriage to work so badly, I was willing to die a little each day, but not able to take my 8-year old daughter with me. (note cliché, “Willing but not able.” Ugh clichés!)

When I moved in with my beautiful roommate, I was placed before all types of mirrors around the house and lots of natural light. There I stood, hair wet, face scrubbed, bare after a shower. There I was at the bottom of the stairs dressed for work. There was my reflection in my bedroom, from head to toe. All of those years, missing my own reflection. I missed all those years of myself. What did my body look like 5 years ago? I missed my SELF like a former great lover.

My beautiful roommate told me that when God made me, He was committed to every single part of me. When we live with someone who believes that, every mirror agrees with God.

Is the other side of pretty all perception? I have felt pretty and ugly all in the same day. Walking into the gym, ugly. 40 minutes of cardio, showered and dressed walking out, pretty. With my EX who pays special attention to the waitress, I teeter at the top, gravity all around me. John Mayer sings “Gravity has taken better men than me.”

“Jump and the net will appear” the zen saying goes, and I did. I jumped far and with all my might to land safely in a beautiful safe home. I jumped for my older daughter, the size 0 with curves, kind, beautiful, smart, who doesn’t realize yet that she can have whatever she wants, she just has to want it. I jumped for my friend who is every bit a beautiful Mexican star and whose EX would turn his head in the direction of every click clack sound of high heels approaching. I jumped for my 8-year old daughter, so that she may always live in the light and I jumped for all of us teetering, to land on the other side of pretty.

The Other Woman

I want you all to know that I am just putting it all out there and not apologizing. I invite each of you to post your comments on this blog, say whatever it is you want to say. No more white lies.

I am going to talk about the “other woman” in my former marriage. As I write this, I realize that he had her around long before we even got married and just continued to carry on with her. Hindsight is 20/20, yes? (I hate clichés but some are just true and necessary.)

There was no way that I could compete with her. He self- medicated himself with her for such a long time and if I ever said anything to get her out of our lives, he became angry, said that I was trying to control him.

Recently he said that he never meant to hurt me. It was a sincere apology that I accepted. He said he didn’t want to lose his family and for a minute, I wondered to myself if it could actually work. I turned down 4 date offers in the past few months, knowing that I would know when I was ready.

This past week I put my dog Daisy down. I know I’ve talked about it before and I may talk about her for a long time. I love her like my baby that grew old but always stayed a child.

I understand now, that the reason dogs are childlike is because they love us unconditionally and every second is right now and they keep us in the present moment always in a state of love. Even though we take care of them, they also have the ability to take care of us, to lay their lives down for us at any given moment, selflessly. Who wants to let that go? I didn't.

Superbowl Sunday and my EX is with his lover. She may have come in a dark bottle, or maybe a clear one that he’ll put a twist of lemon on the ridge, sprinkle with salt. Did he put her in a beautiful glass over ice? He cannot call about our daughter, or see if I’m feeing better about Daisy today. His lover has him, on our couch, she kisses him on the side of his mouth with the crooked tooth. She is velvet on his lips, soothing down his throat.

I am ready to go on that date now. Maybe it’ll be after the day job has ended. Maybe I can take someone to the upcoming blockbuster romantic comedy on the WB lot before it hits theaters this Valentine’s Day. Will the men who asked me out take another chance? It will be great to have arms around me, light with no baggage of the past, to have someone look at me with no resentments.

When I was married, I met someone through a work situation, that one night, I dreamed of kissing. I dismissed it, until now, because neither one of us was available back then. My soul is open to that powerful energy and other things unknown. My Daisy dog lives on in the lesson in that all I have is right now, this moment, the possibility of a real kiss, a state of love for myself and others just because we are alive.

Sunday, February 7, 2010

Boys on the Side - mmmmmmm

My name is Frankie and I am a 40 something woman, going through a divorce. I have had my ups and downs about this relationship for 10 years. The divorce process has been heart wrenching but for me, it was the marriage that was the hard part.

My soon to be EX and I shared a love and passion that I am very grateful for. Mostly because something powerful inside of me experienced an awakening. The problem was that I made my marriage the main course of my life. It literally became a heavy helping of meat and potatoes every night.

I shifted my focus from the thriving career I had worked so hard for as a filmmaker and marketing consultant. I got married, had a baby and made that my entire life. Was that a bad thing? For me, it wasn't a match for the true expression of who I really was. It became a daily lie to myself. A white lie that saved all of our feelings because I wasn’t happy and I wasn’t who my husband married. Even though he wanted a family, he also wanted the sexy career woman that I was when we met. So did I. Things got complicated, chaotic and downright crazy. "Be that amazing woman!" we both yearned. "No, if she comes back we're in trouble!" he replied. I got into agreement with him.

Since I moved out months ago, I haven’t had a meal with meat and potatoes. The first thing I did was give myself permission to want what I want. We often don’t let ourselves go there because we figure we can’t have it - so now I do indulge in french fries from time to time. :)

Interestingly enough, there are many times where I am so thrilled with what’s going on in my work, my art, seeing friends or hanging out with my daughters that I sometimes forget to eat. I am producing projects again, a documentary, a cd recording, tv pilot presentations. My day job is at Warner Bros. Studio. I love it there. I write and perform my poetry at art events. My two beautiful daughters and I hang out, talk freely, create new ideas together and laugh. We all cried so much when we put our dog Daisy down earlier this week after 13 great years.

Weight of responsibility is literally falling off of me. My life is full of things that I love. I can give my full attention to all of me now that the space hog (turned H1N1) of my marriage is gone.

Details of my breakup may eventually come up in future blogs. The point is that I am in love with what I love in life. I am light and satisfied. I am a 3-dimensional woman, a writer, a friend, a film producer a mother to 2 beautiful daughters. I am a great lover-to-be with someone in my future that I can dip into, swirl around and cover myself with. A beautiful person that I can pour over the freedom and excitement of me. The much desired topping, warm, decadent, delicious on the side.