2010: Plague of the Penis (P.O.P.!!!)

I have written and rewritten this piece several times now, and it continues to come up in conversation, and I am constantly urged to post it. So, although I'm a little nervous, here goes...

2010 has been coined as the year of the "Plague of the Penis," affectionately referred to as P.O.P. What does this mean?

Well, several things actually. (Now, bear in mind that I am trying to articulate to the best of my abilities what I have experienced on a personal level, as well as what I hear from other women in my circle and surrounding circles.)

Let's begin with me, on a personal level. The Plague began like this:

I became a single woman for the first time in decades this year. I am, for the most part, in excellent shape, doing incredible things in my life, self-sufficient, enjoying a great deal of camaraderie and entertainment, etc etc. The goal for this new found single-hood was to, in a manner of speaking, play it like a man. I am NOT AT ALL interested in a relationship at this time, and have expressed this clearly with friends and potential lovers. I thought it best to find a few good lovers to keep abuzz in my hive, keeping it varied and interesting, and to keep me enlivened and appreciated in different ways. Let's just say, after all I'd been through in the Department of Love/Hell, I felt ready to just be lavished in affection from several directions.

The outcome thus far has been as such: a complete and utter disappointment. Had I been spoiled my entire life with choice lovers and am now paying the price? It would appear so, as the fumblings and bumblings of potentials have been seriously underwhelming, in the worst way. Do I need to start teaching a course? Should I have been a sex therapist instead of a singer? Or is THIS what other women have been enduring and dealing with over the years? I am shocked, men, and extremely let down. One of the phrases I have coined this year is "Just shut up and listen to a woman!" We're trying to tell you what to do, because you obviously are headed in the wrong direction. P.O.P.!!!

So, that's my first plague. Here comes the second:

So, at long last, after several failed attempts, I find a man who knows EXACTLY what to do. I mean, it's as if he read the handbook to my body, my skin, my loins and heart and knew every right word to say, every correct way to touch, to kiss - ah! kill me now for the goddamn kiss of perfection on my lips! - and so on and so forth. It was my hallelujah moment of the year! I mean, I reconsidered my whole plan: maybe a small bevvy of lovers just wasn't meant to be, but one GOOD one was freaking fantastic!

We spent a solid month hanging. Chatting online almost daily, sending texts, calling, meeting up - even with friends. Bringing me into his world, stepping into mine. He was fresh out of a relationship- PERFECT! Figured he wouldn't be pushing that card, which still remains an uninteresting option for my life. Everything was ON, hot, feelin' it, there... until, he decides to hang out with some other chick! Okay, all right, that's cool. I mean, I originally wanted a few to juggle myself, but no - he comes out of one relationship, and jumps into another, leaving me stranded with no reserves! WTF?

In so many of the relationships I've endured, and my friends have endured, the commonality had often been these men that want to have their cake and eat it too. So, after endless heartbreaks and being cheated on and hanging with dudes that will never commit, many of us women thought we had finally gotten smart: cool, we'll just play by those rules instead, and enjoy the freedom and (try to) avoid the bullshit that we'd been swallowing by the shovelful. But now, what's THIS bulllshit? Are you telling me that you could choose to have passionate, unbridled, unattached sex with a goddess and you're saying NO? P.O.P.!!!

Yet, there's more, and here's where I'm paraphrasing for others, so hope I express it well.

Third plague is this: you know, guys, women like to get off too. We have needs, we like sex... and on a somewhat regular basis is preferred. So, I'm hearing from many women this summer about lovers they have, whom they enjoy, with whom they have also clearly expressed no desire for relationship status, but want to be able to make booty-calls, much in the same way men have been doing to us since we gave them our "apples" to begin with.

Yet, these men seem so overly confident in their prowess, their personality, whatever "gifts" they think they have, that they simply cannot BELIEVE a woman would want them only for their penis. So, they call it off, playing the "Well, we've been hangin' out a couple times a week, and it just seems like you want more" card. Uh, NO. More DICK maybe, but nothing more, be assured. To no avail... dude man just cannot comprehend that he is in the best situation possible, where he gets to come over, get his rocks off, go home and not have to worry about a thing. P.O.P.!!!

The list goes on... I have a few friends who have been single for quite some time, and are seriously going on MONTHS sans action. This is not acceptable. I love how guys will often remark, "Well, it's so easy for girls to get laid - all they have to do is go out and they've got options galore waiting for them." No, no, no, my little friends. This is not true. I mean, I suppose it is in the sense that there typically ARE those guys that are hanging around, expressing interest, and you know you COULD fuck them if you wanted... but you already know you don't want them, or would have bedded them already!

I'm talking about the same thrill that you guys get off on: meeting that person that's fresh and new and interesting, even if they're not exactly your type, but still.... someone you could get off on just making the rounds to third base even. I've been saying all summer, I need to make some t-shirts quoting one of my poems: "If I want you, just shut up and fuck me." Would that make it easier? Would you men out there at the clubs and bars, going around the lakes, walking your dogs, standing in line at whatever checkout, etc etc, even appreciate such a direct approach? You act like you would, but in the end, I think most of you would wimp out. P.O.P.!!!

I held counsel with a few women last night about these issues, and more. We're getting real serious over here. Talks of a Federation to end all this confusing sexual melodrama are being discussed. I am a busy person, I have other work and items requiring my attention and energies. But how am I supposed to stay focused when I am so hard up? I can't even believe I'm writing this, or that this is an actual issue in my life. Let's blame it on my vanity, totally, but I don't think I'm the kind of girl that should be so completely unsatisfied. And as for my fellow sisters, they deserve to be equally serviced as well!

Men of the world, we must sit down, if need be. Maybe you just don't get it. Maybe your machismo will forever need to have control over these things. I don't know. But you all are missing out BIG TIME. And if you think we women are scary during our moontime, just wait til we've all gone months without sex. It's about to get f*ing craaaazzzaaaaayyyy up in here.

Wrenching Wench

You cause me pain.

I hate you for your eyes.

Steely blue fixed gaze naughty naughty wanting love sex peering seeking knowing

Stop looking into my brain. Keep your eyes off my heart. Shy away from my soul.

I loathe you for your mouth.

Fucking mouth slick tongue lick lick gobble suck speak devilish coo grin spit bare teeth

I curse your twisted voice. I damn your nibbling fangs. I reject your lingo and breath.

Your skin makes me sick.

Raw rugged working hands hair curling tempting foot rubbing toes clawing throbbing neck

I defy the heat, the vapor in the ethers, the hot wetness, the magnetic air as you draw near.

You have made me ill. Sleepless. Thoughtless. Careless.

Bewitched me with some pagan pirate curse. An earthsucker's trick.

A flip of the switch.

I resent your advances, and detest your withdrawals...

I am stark-raving mad to want you so bad.

Loneliness

loneliness

long days, longer nights with one's self

already after many weeks, months

the initial shock has long worn off

the courage and fortitude too

the dog and cat have nothing left to say

it's just... lonely

once, there were calls to make;

they have already been rung

at one point, there was much to write, to consider,

to endeavor and experience

now it's all ho-hum

for all my longing for conversation,

companionship,

intimacy,

physical heat,

the hunger intensifies

and i worry myself about it:

if it comes, when it comes,

will my ravenous desire be too great?

will it frighten the very ones who come

to rescue me from these all-too-quiet,

way-too-many

nights alone?

can i temper it?

i fear i'm not that cool.

still haven't mastered those rules

for, in the past, it was always my game:

hunger, and they will feed you

but i'm older now

pulling it together well enough, but

tired, and wanting what i want when i want it

no time to fuss and figure

just want to call and have it delivered

what's wrong with the men of this world?

when they are tied, they strain to break free

when they are allowed free rein,

there's no interest

why must they continually be such disappointments?

fit, beautiful, deep, sensual, intelligent, talented, independent i am

if i want you, you should just shut up and fuck me

Desire

Desire awakened me this morning like a Mack truck on a collision course with my... feminine parts. Awakened from another unrequited dream, where I'm dancing my way around and to an unknown beloved, and just as our lips are about to meet, just as his hand is slipping between my thighs, I'm awake. Awakened a full two hours before the alarm would go off. Awakened, knowing there's no way I'll fall back to sleep when I'm so full of this longing, this heat.

My desire is so strong these days, it gets the better of me, in sleep and in life. It's been eight months, after all, since I've been single again. It's been over ten years that I've ever even been single that long. So, I'm adjusting. I'm loving it, actually, loving my single-hood. I've recently started going out with new people, going on dates, meeting up for drinks, taking in a show, and I'm having a ball! I'm definitely in no hurry whatsoever to partner up again anytime soon. I'm happy to have my own space, make my own choices, do whatever (and whomever!) I want. I think the lack of intimacy is the only drawback so far.

Not that there aren't options. Lord, help me, it seemed that as soon as the word got out that I was single again, there was a freakin' line around the block - friends, fans, old admirers, new admirers, colleagues, ex-boyfriends, you name it! I can't even say it was flattering, because I was grieving the loss of my marriage after all, and it seemed a little... tacky. So for months I've been encasing myself in an energetic wall to ward off all of the advances, trying to send out the signal that "it ain't gonna happen." For the most part, it's worked. That desirous energy that was coming my way like a meteor shower of erect phalli, bombarding me at every event, party, coffee date or walk with the dog has finally cooled. Cooled right as my own kundalini awakens in a blaze, desperately trying to uncoil from its long, dormant state.

So, what's the problem, you ask? Why not just go out and find something to sink my teeth into? To be honest, I have. I can't say it was all that intentional, in fact it kind of took me by surprise, but it certainly unlocked the gate to my garden. It is springtime, after all, and everything with a pulse comes to life. I guess that includes me. But it's not my style to run around town, adding notches to my bedpost night after night. My style has always been to lavish my affections on one deserving suitor, who wins my heart as part of the deal. This is what make it so tricky now. I'm trying to re-invent my sexual persona: how do I remain unattached (staying single, which I know I want), not be sleeping around with vast randoms, and yet be able to get off with something other than my own hand?

In an ideal world, I would have a lover (maybe two) whom I could see on a somewhat regular basis - once or twice a week. We would go out for food, watch foreign films, read together, go for a run - simple pleasures. And, to share some level of intimacy. That doesn't even have to mean sex... sometimes, all I crave is to be kissed, to lay my skin on someone's skin, to delight in the smells of another, the sound of their breathing - again, simple pleasures. At times like these, when I'm extra-ravenous, it seems ridiculous that this should be so difficult to conjure up! I question if it isn't my extreme desire, that energy of "desperation" (for lack of a better word), that ironically becomes its own repellent - that sends out a vibe that makes men cringe rather than crave. Such a paradox... if it's true, I guess I would need to smother my heat, and if that happens, I'm back to the old "it ain't gonna happen" routine.

...Here comes the rain. Pouring down in this early morning, sending a cool breeze through the window. What perfect timing. I needed that cold shower - I have a long day ahead of me yet, and have probably lingered too long on this topic as it is. For the moment, I guess there's no concrete solution. I just have to keep moving forward as I have, and trust that whatever is meant to be, however it's all destined to work out, it shall.

In the meantime, I think the best use of that potent elixir, "Desire," would be to spill it onto the page, let it soak into a song. If it can't be shared with someone (or some ones), then let me mull it into a creative cider for everyone to imbibe. Drunk with love, passion or sex... we're all fuckin' addicts.