#Confession: I had sex with a married man (and btw, I don't regret it)

This was one of my favorite songs growing up. I only knew the 10,000 Maniacs version (that I played on my cassette player that didn't even have a rewind so when I wanted to hear the song again I had to fast forward on the other side). Patti Smith crushes it, and loved hearing the story behind the song on the Defiant Ones on HBO. 

Maestro ... 

Picture it. Tinder. July 31, 2016. Scene: Friel is seen zipped inside inside her onesie lounging on an oversized sofa chair snuggled next to her dog, Buster Brown. She sips her wine as she begins swiping ...

Last summer while swiping on Tinder, I came across a profile featuring a man in a suit with with his face deliberately hidden. Wondering what he had to hide, I clicked on his profile ... 

Actual screenshot 

I'm not sure what kept my interest in that exact moment - the radical honesty? the marketing of intelligence? I'm not the kind of person that would ever want a guy because he was "someone else's," in fact quite the opposite ... I'm more likely to ask for a threesome.

Surprising myself, I swiped right.

It was an instant match. Oh shit, I thought. 

<tangent> Talk Nerdy v.1.0 was all about welcoming situations that I wanted to explore while concurrently learning about myself. I'm solid on who I am at age 32, and I don't need to do that anymore. With each stroke (pun intended) I question if I am even going to publish this ... </tangent> 

Within seconds he messaged saying he couldn't stay on Tinder long (for obvious reasons).

Not needing long (that's what he said), my questions were Vin Diesel style fast and furious ...

Gray text (him): Hi 

Blue text (me): Hi. (the period was deliberate) 

Gray text: Have you read my profile? 

Blue text: Yes. Why cheat? Why even get married? It's so cowardly. 

Gray text: There's more to it than that. 

Blue text: OH I'M SURE (capitalization was also deliberate) 

He asked me to email him. (For obvious reasons he didn't want to keep talking through Tinder.) I waited a full 24 hours before sending this ... 

I wasn't sure what to say next. I wasn't sure I cared since I was more focused on getting ahead than receiving it ...

 

("more pictures" references more than what he had posted on Tinder, which again, omitted his face) 

The "horny" part was a test, I wanted to see what he would lead with.

Would he flat out show me his little Richard? Does he take a photo of his face? I was curious to find out. 

He sends me a photo of his chest which was congruent with the athleticism he advertised. 

The pose was neutral and confident. He didn't do one of these elbows out, hands clasped behind the head "come hither" style. Independent of the circumstances he was looking to place himself in (quite literally), I felt like I could learn from this guy. What? I wasn't sure, but he didn't operate in the "predictably index" I've known previously of "cheaters." 

<tangent> After over 7,500 blog posts, and an equal amount of zip codes I’ve taken “residence” in - people operate on a spectrum in my brain based upon the behavior I learned from people I've previously met. If it walks like a duck, acts like a duck, quacks like a duck, I got a duck, and I can’t be mad at a duck for not being a giraffe. I'm very rarely surprised in life in terms of people. This guy was genuine, this guy knew what he wanted, that equated to a power I was attracted to know more about. </tangent> 

Attraction aside, sex wasn't even entering into my brain at this point. The predictably index acts as a "chastity belt" of sorts. It takes me a really really really long time to finally have sex with someone based upon the fact that I've more likely than not had sex with this type of personality before! In four years I can count on less than two hands how many people I've slept with. NOT because I'm proud of that fact, quite the opposite actually. I find myself more often than not in a state of frustration and take said frustration out by using ... 

Porn is only .5% LESS frustrating than going to bed with a guy only wanting to dip out two seconds after he was done dipping in.

(I do however enjoy feeling another body on top of my body, like a sexual Thunder Shirt of sorts. It calms and soothes, but then I'm all YUP! Good - get off of me).

I confidently used self control as a sexual shield. I genuinely didn't give a fuck about getting fucked. I'm not surprised by personality types. I've seen it been there. Done that. And they're making a TV show. 

<tangent> Can we talk for a sec about how god awful porn is? The story lines, I mean, I want to write a porno just to give quality storytelling and proper narrative. OH, and then you watch the 10 second thumbnail and think YES! THIS IS GREAT ... 

... only to discover the tongue that you thought you were going to experience is not in fact native ... 

Maria, please tell me you made him work for it and didn't just give up your ... 

</tangent> 

Anywho, back to my own hooha ... he then sent me his KIK, and the convo continued over the course of a few days ... 

 I don't like meeting people anymore. I've met a lot of them. I will 100% til the day I fucking die meet a reader of this site and say THANK YOU, but other than that - no. I'm good. I like my home, my dog, my wine, onesie, and Netflix.

The convo then went to what we were each studying. I had just discovered Revisionist History from Malcolm Gladwell, so I told him, and then he shared this ... 

Then came time for the photo exchange.

He referenced grooming preferences before sending his first photo. 

BTW, we are talking about his face and not his ...  

 

You can't tell in the screenshot, but I did SLIGHTLY unzip the onesie ... 

Over the next couple of weeks, we became each other's night night buddies. We'd talk about our days (our experiences in them, never the parties involved), and eventually once respect was earned from an intellectual perspective - things got sexualish. 

I wasn't about to let him know that I was following his command. I really was typing that before I read what he had written.

I didn't see his last message, my fingers quickly closed out KIK and opened up the google ... 

 Per Kinkly (appropriately named): 

There's a typo in this. It should read "does not make an effort to reciprocate."

I had never heard that term before August, but apparently let it seep into my subconscious when a boy I found attractive texted around my birthday (I won't date him because he's vegan, and I'm a massive. massive. carnivore. I did go on a #BJDiet afterall ... ) ... 

We never ended up meeting that day because I wound up going to a last minute work holiday party. I never viewed what I do as a "sacrifice" because I enjoy it so much, but in writing this post I am realizing how much sex I am missing out on. WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU, FRIEL?!?!!??!

Anywho, back to the sex offered by something other than my own hand ... 

Our messages continued for two straight weeks before I finally agreed to meet up. He had already checked off the intelligent box, checked off the kinky box, would I actually let check off my own box? I wasn't sure, but invested enough in my night night buddy to find out. 

We agreed to meet during the day at a bar that is shockingly popular during the weekday. 

I can't remember who sat down first, I just remember we arrived around the same time (such nerds for being on time). For as open as I know I am sexually, when you share aspects about yourself before meeting someone IRL, there is like a weird disconnect. That's one of the reasons why I won't say more than two or three words to a guy on Tinder before/ if I know I want to meet him.

I know what I want, I want what I want, and I don't need to talk about it.

I've found that when I talk to someone too much online before meeting them I place a projection on who I think they are vs who I can figure out they are. We are shockingly transparent, and the older I get the easier it all is to see. 

We both ordered a bottle of cold beer (I ordered bud light, I can't remember what he ordered), and as he started talking - I tuned out the words that were coming out of his mouth. I can imagine he was narrating the steps it took for him to be able to arrive at this random bar that I picked on a weekday, but I didn't care. I just wanted/ needed to know what his motives were and if he was genuine. Everything I could tell about this guy was that he was honest, and yet here he was about to commit (from my perspective) the most dishonest act a person can do.

Cheating in general is no bueno in my eyes, cheating on your wife? Even worse. 

I started talking somewhere where it was logistically acceptable. I brought up the one thing we had yet to talk about, his wife. 

"Why cheat?" I asked point blank. 

"It's not what you think," he said quiet while leaning closer.

I paused, not saying anything verbally or physically. 

"We've tried counselling, she is going through something. I don't know what, but I'm also a man and have needs." 

"How do you know she's not cheating?" I asked honest and not judgy. 

"It's more physical on her end, I just know she's not." 

I still wasn't entirely sure, but I quickly asked another question ... "why not just get a divorce?" 

"Because of our family. She's an amazing mother, and great wife except for this one thing." 

My eyes said they understood, but it was hard to understand not having walked in those shoes. From my perspective, I wouldn't ever want to teach my children that a sexless marriage is okay. Sex is a HUGE part of intimacy, it's in fact one of the greatest parts. Here is this ONE THING that you share with this ONE OTHER human being. If that's not the definition of closeness, I don't know what is. Again, not being in that position I knew I couldn't relate, I could only listen. 

He continued to tell me about his experience in marriage, and all I could do was respect the guy. Here he was in this brief moment being "seen" not as a father or as a husband (particularly one that can be viewed as "failing" to a certain degree), he was just a guy that I thought was smart and easy to talk to. The intelligence factor is what I need to find someone attractive, so the fact that he had that AND he was (by any definition) commercially attractive AND I could tell he wasn't bullshitting me meant that I still wanted to know more. I still wasn't sold on sex, but I was more certain than ever that he more likely than not could change my mind. 

After we departed, he emailed ... 

Alrite, much like dudes after sex, that's all you get for now. Did I mention though, the next post will be written to this song ... 

It was so FANTASTICALLY dirty, and now that I've come this far, it would be a shame to stop ... 

#nerdsunite 

Click here to read part 2

#Randombling: @JenSquard

#TalkNerdyToMeLover’s @JenSquard

Randombling: A 5 minute long unedited random stream of consciousness produced by a nerd for nerds.

#nowplaying: Queen - Bohemian Rhapsody

Man, oh man, I guess it is just a Jen thing, but I’m in the sexual frustration boat now, too.  Dang.  See, married sex is an entirely different beast than regular sex.  You are with the same person forever, and things just change, I guess.

Before we were married, sex was exciting and taboo, which I’m sure helped make it awesomer, and there wasn’t a lack of mental stimulation.  Now, he works all day and I hang with the kids, and when he gets home from work I seize my opportunity to do my own work.  We just don’t get alone time very often, and when we do it’s like he just has no idea what to do with me.  I don’t think it should be up to me all the time, but apparently it is.  No, not okay.  Brian just has a hard time understanding the mental stimulation thing.  He knows that I can just look at him and he is turned on.  But it’s not like that for ladyfaces, we need someone to grope at the brain, then the boob.  Get it?

BRAIN, then boob.  BRAIN THEN BOOB!!!

I’m over it.  The thing about being married for a while is you stop getting asked or cajoled or...I can’t think of the word....sweet talked? into sex, it just becomes an expectation.  It’s no longer earned, it’s guilted.  I definitely don’t ever ever ever EVER want to have sex because I am obligated or because I feel bad.  No, that’s so not kosher.  Um, cause guess what?  I want to enjoy it, too.  The end.

Meh, I need a SpiritHood to hide under.  Lame.

Two #Nerds talk #Boobs!

#TalkNerdyToMeLover's @ashleighmayes and @SaintPepsi

Ashleigh: Hello, nerdy lovers! It's Ashleigh...

Jordan: ...and SaintPepsi here!

Ashleigh: The word of the day is...BOOBS! I've had this discussion with my girlfriends before, and it always comes back to the fact that boobs aren't that awesome.

Jordan: I'd like to counter with the age old cough *bullshit!*

Ashleigh: Seriously?! I just don't get it. They're...annoying! But before we get to the pros and cons, let's examine them for what they are: an        important part of survival.

Jordan: If surviving means sucking milk it would have to be a pretty well timed apocalypse.

Ashleigh: *rolls eyes* If the first cavemen hadn't discovered that (or had the instinct), for their infant to survive, they needed to place the little shit's mouth by that lump of fat on the female, none of us would be here today.

Jordan: They probably figured it out by watching cows or something. Really the credit should be given to the smaller creatures that really did have the instinct to do that.

Ashleigh: Eh...I suppose so. I'd hate to see the world if people copied more things that humans do. Heh...I suppose we'd save water if everyone used their tongue to clean their own...nevermind. But back to the biological aspects of the breast. Each breasticle is made up of, from closest to the body to the farthest away, the breast wall, the Pectoralis muscles, the Lobules, the duct, the Areola, the Nipple (Heh...Nipple is a funny word), and of course, the skin.

Jordan:That's a good start, i'll admit to liking all of those things together. However, to say boobs have but one purpose is sadly a short sighted look into their many productive uses which may not all be practical.

Ashleigh: Oh, Jordan! Ok, ok. I guess you're forcing me to deprive our dear readers a lesson on the biology of the boob. Tell me, then...WHY are boobs so awesome?

Jordan: Well they are useful in some many different ways. Depending on the size and yes all guys like boobs no matter what size they are. So long as there are boobs there. Boobs have been used in all forms of fashion and design. They mark the giving nature of the mother, they are inevitably the first place the eyes fall for anybody. Girl, gay or guy. Boobs have a way of pooping up everywhere.  In art the boob allows for the woman to be curved and even more sexually appealing where as a mans marks art stern and hard.  In society dresses accenting the boobs properly show status and a determination to keep one's self groomed. You will hardly find a lady dressed up to her best with out spending some time on how her boobs look to assure the proper amount of gawking. There is the natural giving nature of the breast which has been used in religions across the world for centuries as a source for nurturing, and lastly in a sexual sense the cluster of nerves at and around the boobs offer a girl even more areas to be stimulated during the sexual actions she takes on. Frankly I'm jealous.

Ashleigh: Don't be. While I see where you're coming from, as a breast-bearer, I can't tell you HOW frustrating they can be. I get embarrassed easily, but there's nothing as awkward as trying to squeeze past a crowd and accidentally have someone rub all up in your rack. Or how about hugging short people? Seriously? It's like they're short just so they can fit their face in there! But that's not the worst thing! Clothes shopping, that's what! I get SO pissed off when I find something that's SOOO cute but can't wear. It's either that it makes my boobs look boxy, or flat as a board. If it's not that they don't look right, it's that the top fits around my waist and lengthwise perfectly but doesn't fit at ALL in the chest.

And the fact that some guys (or girls, I suppose) put so much importance on them bugs me. I'm not saying that YOU are, Jordan. You're too awesome for that. I just hate how that's the VERY first thing that some care to even notice.

Jordan: It's hard not to notice them. They are shaped like bullseyes. And that has been frustrating for myself. While I am not a fat person to say I am chunky enough to have "MAN BOOBS!" Dun Dun Dun... a source of endless shame in jr. and sr. high.  You are right finding shirts large enough to not accent my lumps of fat on my chest is a difficult task. One I'd rather avoid.  Boobs on a guy just don't work so well, aside from being brilliant for a pillowish place for a lady to cuddle up on. i still admire and love the time girls to put into them. i know not all guys notice when a girl has taken the time to look gorgeous. There are a few of us that notice the little things, like a haircut, new shoes, or even new clothes. Because lets face it guys will never have to worry about accessorizing or bra's. You can't tell me it's not the greatest feeling in the world to watch a guys eyes bug out because you are a drop dead knock out. KO you sealed the deal with a whimsical kiss and you're out to dinner.  Those things have mystical powers that the kids at Hogwarts never dreamed to use... Stupid wizard robes.

Ashleigh: Haha. Ok, ok. It IS fun to make boys stare. You mentioned bras. That's another pain in the ass! If you're even slightly off of average it would be hard for you (I'm not saying I'm off of average!! WAIT...I'm not average! CRAP!) to find a perfect fit. Not only that, but boobs are the indirect cause of a sore back. I don't know HOW many guys snapped my straps in my years of public school! And what can we do in our defense? NOTHING! And not only that...but if you get hit, it HURTS! I guess that goes without saying, though. But seriously! It's FAR too easy to hurt them when you're playing around. A basketball hits a guy in the chest and it's like..."Eh...whatever". With a girl, it's like "HOLYMOTHEROFDOG!"

Jordan: Oh I know I've been hit in the boob. Still you don't have ball's a dangling so even trade i say.  Also people don't hit you in the tits because it's funny.  You see a guy get hit in the junk it's a riot. You see a girl get hit in the boob it's a show stopper.  Everything ends because everyone trys to comfort that girl.  That's why so many girls just grin and bear it because they hate the sympathy they get from getting hit there. That aside the whole bra shopping thing I totally get. i am a man who isn't afraid of Underwear shopping for my significant other. There's a reason guys buy gift cards because if you get the wrong fit they won't ever wear it except the one tome to show it off.  I usually stick to buying panties for them.  Panties tee hee... another funny word.  You girls and your funny terms for things. So adorable. Frankly i'm surprised yo haven't brought up hard nipples... Or the side term glass cutters.

Ashleigh: Jordan, you read my mind!! That was literally what I had lined up next. It's extremely embarrassing to run outside for something RIGHT across the street in the Winter time and come back inside. People are staring and you then realize why...you forgot to wear a jacket. And it's just as painful to try to cross your arms over them! It's so obvious! Who crosses their arms that high up, anyway?!? And another thing: nip slips! I can't say I've PERSONALLY had this happen, but I once got on an elevator with a girl who didn't even realize what had happened! Who wants to ADMIT that they're looking? Wait!! WHY was I looking?!? I take comfort in the fact that the other girls in the elevator noticed, too. Haha...anyway...poor girl probably walked around all day like that! Sometimes you just can't keep 'em in, I guess. And when they decide to take a look at the world, it causes a TON of trouble!

Jordan: True we guys don't get erections all day long or walk around with bulges.  It would be just as noticeable though i think.  Once again guys don't usually walk around with their hands over there junk.  But as you said you were looking.  Isn't that something you know you would do. even if she didn't have a nipple out for a breath of fresh air.  You still stopped to gander at their gals.  Girls size up girls way faster and more obvious than guys.  As guys we have spent years training our eyes to not look at boobs first.  Girls never took this mental class.  I will almost promise you that the next girl you talk to will look at your boobs before the guy does. Double standard!  So you don't care if the girl does but if the guy does he's a creep!

Ashleigh: Hey now, be nice! I didn't say that the FIRST thing I noticed was her boob! We were actually a few floors up before THAT happened! I do believe that you're right, though. There are a lot of male/female double standards. But we'll get into that another article. What have we decided, anyway, Jordan?

Jordan: I think we agree on a lot of things, I can see valid arguments on both sides and for similar parts of this debate. But my dear Ashiegh I still love boobs and all their mystical powers.  I can't agree with the proclamation that they are only useful for one purpose.  Me thinks you can't say that and truly believe it either. ;)

Ashleigh: Jordan, Jordan. You're so determined, muh dear! I agree that they have magical powers, but I, personally, am not affected by them. Call it a difference of gender, but I stick with my initial claim that boobs just aren't that amazing.

Jordan: Guess we'll just have to agree to disagree. Seems a shame! But maybe in the next episode we'll sway each other to a single side.

Ashleigh: We shall see, huh? Well...that's all we've got on "boobs"! Check back for the next co-written article! Signing out!

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