So the Kinsey report works the theory that women peak in their thirties. I can say with all conviction that in my case… that is lip biting, garter belt wearing, all day fantasizing, no underware sporting, born-that-way sacheting all over town, most incredibly true. I’m in trouble..
I don’t know what the hell is going on, but the earth cracked and shot out the femme fatale herself in me somewhere around my last birthday. I can be walking down the street in a parka and get those looks from men, women, dogs.. doesn’t matter. Should, be great, right!? They tell us as women to strive for this. Be alluring. It’s the ultimate power… No. I’m here to tell you, no. When friends suddenly look at you and notice the curvature of your breast and the soft skin on your thighs.. When people you work with make eye contact imploringly and want to stand just a little closer.. When you’re out dancing and people are starting hold you just a bit closer and thighs touch… No. No. No. what is going on??!
The last post I wrote was about flirting…? Thank you, Karma. I’ve learned my lesson. Be careful who you aim that shit at! Got it. Duly noted. I have butches, that previously were hard to come by, gathered around me .. panting. Three currently!! I’m in such trouble.
I don’t know what to do with all of this. I am big talk, but married, and when confronted with any real confrontation, I’m going to tuck tail and run. Every time. I just like to strut my femme.. No, really! Femme is a powerful thing, I know this, but right now, this takes femme to a whole new level. It’s an axis shifting, overwhelming, comin’ atcha from all angles kind of power. One that doesn’t seem to have a control button.
In the beginning, it was flattering. Nice little ego boost. A girl deserves an ego boost every once in a while.. But, friends telling me that they would be crazy not to try to find an opening (if there were one) in my marriage. Women looking me in the eye and trying to gauge if there is a chance. I can’t take much more of this.
There’s just one problem.. I am so turned on. All. The. Time. A well placed paper bag has its allure! Don’t even get me started on the things that I regularly notice. Strong hands.. A handsome butch in a fitted white button down shirt.. Oh, god yes.. Strong hands.. Mmmmm A stoic, warm face with a story. Ok, gotta stop thinking.. Anything remotely butch.. sigh. Hell, straight women that look butch.. (There is an alarmingly large number of those in Wisconsin. Just sayin’.) Strong hands.. dammit.
I’m sure you think, well, just turn it off. I would it were so easy. Get this, no makeup, hat on, parka, and I get that look from a older butch thing at the grocery store. I’m working and my student asks me questions probing to see if there is a crack in the foundation of my marriage.. Really!? Am I giving off some kind of pheromone!? It comes out of nowhere and smacks me between the eyes. My head spins. I get that dropping feeling and have to sit down. I think I should lock myself in for the rest of the year. Oh, crap. That means no ordeing delivery either. I am a danger to society and myself. Watch out, Milwaukee. The High Femme is in rare form, this will be your only warning…
From now on, I promise to be more mindful of my touch. I can’t tell you how many times I just rewrote that sent and so that I could actually believe it. Truth is, I’m in some kind of way. Something I’ve never experienced before. I’m madly in love with my wife but my libidio is off.. the.. charts. She’s usually pretty good at keeping up with me, but I think I’m going to spend a lot of time alone to work out my.. karma. I would never cheat. I’m not that kinda girl. I’m just a raging hormone.. in my own head. Sorry, I have to go now. I have to find my stick, cattle prod, taser and keep them at bay. This is ridiculous.
I’ll check back in with an update. If you see a woman in the corner with her back to the wall, it’s just me.. trying to turn it off. Do not make direct eye contact..