Sometimes little gifts fall out of the sky into my lap. That’s exactly what happened when my friend, Sister Wife, and blogger-buddy-extraordinaire, Samara, agreed to guest post here. If you don’t already know her (how could you not??), be prepared for passionate, fiery, sweet as pie, and funny as hell. Without further ado….
The last few years of my abusive marriage, my sexuality was completely repressed. Caging my sexuality was like adding Explosive Sniper and Super Punch to Grand Theft Auto 4 – it became decidedly combustible.
After my Ex finally moved out I was like a heat seekin
g missile eager to set free my libido.
Things have changed since I was married. The dating world has become so digital.
I said “no” to the online thing.
I don’t need to meet some man who hasn’t been his driver’s license weight in 10 years.
I refused to sign up to Craigslistkillers.com, so Franklin Horschuker, serial killer, could decapitate me and have oral sex with my severed head. Many women have had success with FuckASkankyHousewifeWhoDayDrinksAndLikesAnal.com, but no thank you.
I was introduced to the Cute Guy the old-fashioned way. I kidnapped him met him through a friend.
I call him that because he’s ridiculously handsome. So much so, that the first time we met I touched his face like I was reading Braille and said, “Look at you! You’re so CUTE!”
He’s also tall, muscular, funny and very sweet. Too good to be true. I’m sure he has seasonally dormant herpes.
He’ also 34. 11 years younger than me. And dates other woman, including a 28-year-old.
Jesus titty-fucking Christ.
Sex after divorce is scary. I may seem brazen, but I’m as insecure as any woman about my body. It’s part of our job description.
My post divorce body is nowhere near what it was before I got married. During pregnancy I blew up like the Hindenburg.
It’s intimidating after a long marriage to get in puris naturalibus with someone new. (That’s Latin for “you’d know what this meant if you didn’t watch so much porn.”)
To assuage any insecurity in this situation, I apply alcohol generously. I’m a total light weight, and most hangups I have about my body are soluble in alcohol.
So are my underwear and superego.
On our first date at a tequila bar I downed shots of Rey Sol Anejo (Spanish for “I don’t remember anything”) and drunkenly hot wired a car in the parking lot. I like to showcase my criminal adroitness early in a relationship.
Our chemistry is fabulous, and we’ve had several dates since.
Because it’s dark. Because drinking and night go together. Because moonlight is forgiving.
A few weeks ago, he texted me on his day off. My car hadn’t passed inspection, and he wanted to look it over.
I answered “Yes. How is noon?”
After we confirmed, it hit me.
Is he going to want to have #sexytimes in broad daylight? With the blazing sun highlighting every flaw on my body??
Even though you might be used to making love in the obscurity of a dimly lit room, you’ll see that nothing can compare to beholding your lover in her full glory, in broad daylight.
SAID NO 45 YEAR OLD WOMAN EVER.
OH. MY. GAWD.
I totally panicked.
Sex with someone much younger, in the unforgiving light of day? SOBER?
Was sex a given?
Should I shower?
What about lunch?
What should I wear?
I couldn’t get shit-can schnockered on tequila. I had my kid’s science fair that night! I didn’t want to go stinking like a Tijuana whore.
So, I did what anyone would do.
I WENT ONLINE AND FEVERISHLY POSTED AN SOS TO MY SISTERWIVES!
They did not let me down.
Beth was the first to jump in and try to calm me down.
I didn’t know what to wear. Wait, did I even NEED to get dressed?
Then again, not too many men find footy pajamas sexy.
Gretchen has some great advice for daytime sex wear:
She showed up, though. She always does for #sexytimes talk.
Eventually, the conversation just deteriorated into our usual craziness.
These women are My Tribe. I love them.
I went through all my pre-tryst ablutions, making sure every inch of me was smooth and lotioned.
Fortunately, I had just waxed All The Things. Now I could concentrate on cleaning my house in an OCD frenzy.
It started to rain, and I did a happy dance for the cloudiness.
My house was already spotless. Earlier that week, I had done heavy-duty spring cleaning. Now it was time to do fling cleaning.
10 minutes before the Cute Guy’s arrival, I became convinced that the smudges on my window were unacceptable. In true Samara-OCD fashion, I darted around the house, spritzing my windows with Windex and rubbing them feverishly.
Yes. I DID. I cleaned the fucking windows, on a rainy day, as preparation for an afternoon hookup.
The Cute Guy arrived, bearing food and drink. He looked even taller in broad daylight.
He never even looked at my car.
This isn’t just about getting laid in the daytime, although sex at any time is cause for a celebration, and certainly for half of WordPress, reason to bust out an erotica post.
Anytime I do something that removes me from my marriage – any steps I take that lead me further away from who I was, when I was married – are little victories for me. LIBERATION. An afternoon tryst with a hunky young guy is confirmation of how Very Single I Am.
The Cute Guy left just a short while before my kid got home. And I didn’t wander around in a fucked-out haze, smelling like a cat that got screwed over a garbage can. I transitioned from “Afternoon Slut” to “Mom With Milk And Cookies” with ease.
I was on a hormone – induced endorphin high and buzzed happily through snack, homework and even the interminably long science fair that night.
My kid won first prize at the Science Fair, by the way.
I guess that day? We were BOTH winners.
Did you ever have to get back in the saddle after a divorce?
Do you like to have #sexytimes in the day? Or at night, like a normal person?
Am I officially a “cougar”?
Talk to me. I’m listening.
Samara is the no-holds-barred, six times Freshly Pressed blogger at A Buick in the Land of Lexus. She mixes honesty with humor in high definition, first-person story telling.
Samara is a founding member of The Sister Wives blog, and has also had her work published on BLUNTmoms, Scary Mommy and Human Parts.
She lives in New Jersey with her son Little Dude, the coolest 11-year-old kid on the planet.