Tag Archives: sexuality

CAN’T CLOSE THE FLOOD GATES

I don’t recall when I saw the first women squirt. But it seemed like overnight, the world was suddenly obsessed. Every time I searched for porn, my feed was bombarded with women gushing all over the screen. As squirting gained popularity, it became every man’s mission to make me squirt. From dating apps far and wide, once the topic changed to sex, every man would gloat about how he made this girl and that girl squirt. They all proclaimed to have the magic touch; however, when it came to me, they were never successful.  

The first time I squirted was after seven hours of masturbating, and several clitoral orgasms. I felt my body quiver, and then I released a steady stream of fluid. The release happened a few more times when I was having sex, but the amount never matched what I saw in porn. At the beginning of my sexual revolution, it caused me to question my abilities. But, as years passed, I learned that some women didn’t squirt; and I was ok being one of them. That all changed when I purchased my Liberty Womanizer.   

It’s true what they say; once you open the flood gates, they can never be closed again. Night after night, I would pleasure myself and, every time my sheets would end up soaked. I squirted at a sex party while sucking my man’s dick. I even squirted with another partner as we masturbated side by side. My Womanizer never failed me. And, when I started using my Womanizer during anal, it was no different. While my ass was being impaled, and my Womanizer sucked my clit, every orgasm was multiplied and liquified, at the same time.   

During my duo-partner threesome, I used my Womanizer; and like clockwork, I released a gush of fluid all over his bed when I reached my orgasm. My primary and I were used to it, but I could tell that he was a bit shocked (to say the least). It wasn’t the first time I used my Womanizer with him, but it was the first time I squirted with him. The surprise and excitement of it all must’ve been too much for him because he never finished. However, the next time we met he knew exactly what he wanted.  

I arrived at his apartment and immediately got comfortable. He poured me a glass of wine, and we sat down on the couch. We talked a little bit; then he put my glass down. He stood in front of me and pulled out his dick. I had told him over the phone that I was itching to suck his dick, so he wasted no time. As I sucked his dick, he massaged my breasts, and my pussy got soaking wet. I sucked, gagged, and slurped until he exploded in my mouth, but I didn’t stop there. I continued to play with his cum, and as it mixed with my saliva, I let it drip onto my breasts and the floor. When he couldn’t take anymore, he pushed me away, and I giggled as I fell back against the couch. He went to the bathroom, and when he returned, we went into the bedroom.   

He undressed me while delivering me passionate kisses, and once I was naked, he went down to devour my pussy. It was messy and intentional, and with his finger pleasing my ass, he brought me to a phenomenal orgasm. I was ready for him to fuck me, but he wanted to explore my pussy a bit more. He licked his left fingers and slowly inserted his middle, followed by his index finger into my pussy. As I responded to his fingers, he slipped his right index finger into my ass and finger-fucked me into submission. When he was satisfied, he turned me onto my side and ran his fingers up and down my moist openings. My pussy yearned for his dick, and I was eager to be fucked, but he was in bliss, teasing me. I started to grow sexually frustrated, then he whispered in my ear, “I want to fuck your ass.” — Say Less!  

He slid the condom onto his dick as I grabbed my Womanizer. I bent over on all fours and lifted my ass in the air. He delivered a few licks to my booty-hole, and when I placed my Womanizer on my clit, he slid right in. As he pushed passed the tightness of my opening, I bit my lip in response. He gripped my waist tighter and began to pick up his pace. Each thrust, combined with the stimulation on my clit, brought me closer and closer to orgasm. When I felt myself reaching the peak, I screamed at him, “Fuck my ass!” and he pounded into me repeatedly. I felt my ass clench around his dick, and with an exhale, my pussy exploded. He continued to fuck my ass as I continued to shower him with my juices. A mixture of screams and obscenities filled the room, then he delivered his final thrust and moaned, “Fuck!” When he was done, with my face still buried in the mattress and my gaping ass in the air, I turned to him and said, “That’s what you wanted all along, didn’t you?” He simply answered, “Yes.” I passed out onto the bed, and after he tossed the condom, he joined me. When we both woke up, about an hour later, I took a quick shower and headed home.   

During the Uber ride home, I thought to myself how surprised he was when I squirted on him during the threesome. But, the second time around, he pressed all the right buttons to make my body do precisely what he wanted. The first time, I apologized; but this time, it was all induced. So, when I got dressed and saw that his sheets were still wet, I knew that his mission was accomplished.   

F*CKING UP SHEETS!

There’s a joy that one feels when you leave home and stay at a place that’s not your own. I, like many people, love a good vacation. However, with the rising costs of living, lack of time, lack of funds to go on holidays, and inadequate paid time off, many people don’t get to experience the minimums that a working life has to offer. Whenever I get to be out and do my own thing, I take it all in. I’ve become quite the connoisseur of using Airbnb for mini-trips away or for weekends when I want to be alone with my guy. Between work, writing, reading, and training, it’s refreshing to relax and be the definition of lazy. It’s also refreshing to know that the sheets you fucked up, are not your responsibility to clean.  

Last weekend, my man and I had a weekend all to ourselves. We went to a show on Friday night, followed by dancing. When we got home Saturday morning, we didn’t leave the house until Sunday when we checked out. Saturday morning, he woke me up for breakfast in bed; so, I fed him my pussy twice; then, we went back to sleep. When I finally truly, woke up around noon, I made us breakfast. We stayed inside all day and watched Sabrina on Netflix. When we got hungry again, I made us dinner, then we finished the season, and moved onto watching The Magicians. Cuddled on the couch, I had never felt so at ease. The day was the definition of amazing, and the events of that evening were the strawberry gusher on top. 

We showered together and the hot water cascading on our bodies felt intoxicating. Once in bed, we kissed passionately, then I went down to please him. I used all the tools in my arsenal: from my tongue swirl to my sucking pulse, all in an effort to deliver unto him pleasures that made him squirm and moan. When he told me that he wanted me to ride him, I put on a condom and happily obliged. I used my glutes and hamstring strength to bounce up and down; then, I eased up when he thrust his hips deeper into me. When we had our fill of that position, he laid me on my back, opened my legs wide, and pounded into me. With a few needed lube applications, to keep the party going, I moaned out with every thrust that massaged my spot. In between the cocktails of “fuck!”, “yes!” and “oh my god!” there were many “I love you!” exchanges. I wrapped my legs around his waist and thrust my lower body to meet his. When we had our fill with missionary, before we changed to doggy, he devoured me once more. With his mouth on my clit and finger in my ass, he delivered me an amazing orgasm.  

With my ass up in the air and face buried into the pillow, he proceeded to make love to me; and I devoured every second of it. The beads of his sweat dripped onto my back, and their cool delivered an exhilarating chill. He went to reposition himself and stick it in my ass. Before he entered, I got my womanizer…  

NEVER LEAVE HOME WITHOUT IT! 

For the record, I don’t enjoy anal sex alone. The nerve endings in my ass do not receive pleasure the same way my pussy does. No matter how much lube my partner uses, I can feel the penis rubbing against the skin of my ass, and it delivers to my mind a visual image that shuts down the pleasure highway. So, since I started adding anal sex into my repertoire, I always use my womanizer. The sucking motion of the toy distracts my brain, and it makes the entire experience pleasurable beyond measure. Every time I’m fucked in the ass, with my womanizer on my clit, I have an orgasm. This time would’ve been no different; however… 

Once I powered it up and placed it onto my clit, I told him he could start going slow. I felt my booty hole open up as he slid into me; in collaboration with the sucking motion of the toy, I felt my body reaching an orgasm. As he began to pick up the pace, my clit began to throb like it hadn’t before. He continued to deliver me pleasure-filled thrusts until my body lost control. I first felt the wetness start to drip down my thigh, in between his thrusts; then, just as I had reached my peak; with shaking orgasm and a loud face-in-pillow-stifled roar, my abdominals clenched and my pussy released a squirt of fluid, in amounts I had never released before. There was nothing I could do but ride my orgasmic wave and, since he couldn’t get out of the way fast enough; he had no option but to shower in my juices. Thank god for the towel I laid down prior!  

When I came back down from my high, he slid right back into my ass and proceeded to fuck me until he reached his orgasm. With both of us covered in each other’s fluids (me in his sweat, and him in my squirt), we passed collapsed onto the bed. 

After a few minutes we took a quick shower; then, thanks to some more carefully placed thick and fluffy towels, we were able to fall into a deep sleep. Up until that night, I had only ever squirted in the shower or in my bed. It was not my goal that evening to fuck up the sheets, but I was elated that it wasn’t my responsibility to clean them up.  

SEX & SOCKS

The warmth of my partner, his skin against my skin, hand cupping my bare breasts, and legs intertwined as he spoons me from behind is all that I need, after a good sex session. When I’m with my partner, the only barrier I want between he and I, is a condom. That means I want him totally naked; and that means NO SOCKS!! 

It’s been a hood-urban legend that men who have sex with woman, with their socks on, don’t really care too much about said woman. Although I used to believe this, without a doubt; recently, I’ve come to believe there is a grey area. Take for example, my primary guy at the moment; he loves fun socks: Stitch (from Lilo & Stitch), and Jack Skelington (from The Nightmare Before Christmas), and the list goes on. When we have sex, his feet are bare. But, seeing as his socks are dope, I would be willing to let him slide. Not to mention, there is also a huge debate on Reddit. Those that are pro-socks; claim that- in addition to keeping the feet warm, they may aid with the female orgasm. I’ve never had a problem getting off without socks so I don’t care to start wearing them now. Let me also make it clear; I’m not talking about fetish foot wear either (more often worn by women); body stockings, tights, thigh-highs, and ruffled socks fall into a different category, all together.  

The socks I am talking about, are the old school 6 to a pack, white tube socks; I don’t even give a fuck- if they are Nike socks… If I’m butt-ass naked – then he should be too.  

Some men: Latino, Caribbean, and White are more often than not, barefoot when having sex- I notice these things. I also noticed, especially in my youth, dealing with niggas, (niggas as a state of mind vs. an actual race) many of them kept on their socks. I’ve witnessed quite a few men take off every item of clothing, down to their underwear yet, leave on their socks. So, I asked the question, “If a man has sex with his socks on, what does it mean?” 

I got a good amount of responses that, socks offered better traction. To me, it would seem more logical for both socks and sneakers, instead of socks alone. And some women agreed with my original idea that; if a man wears socks in the bedroom – he isn’t serious about you.  

The overwhelming response was: he has ugly feet. This answer got me on two sides. On one side: You’re willing to have sex with me, but aren’t vulnerable enough to let me see your feet?  And two, why are your feet so jacked up in the first place? 

I find it my obligation to say this… TAKE CARE OF YOUR DAMN FEET!!! This goes for men and women. I recently saw a porn movie where the chick had on a tacky weave and some dingy tube socks. I was able to overlook the weave but her having on socks pissed me off on a level I didn’t understand.  

I judge men that wear dingy socks with slides. Seriously! You can’t afford a clean pair of socks? 

I judge women that wear socks with slides, period! Don’t think I don’t know what’s going on in those socks… 

I judge men and women when their feet are dry and ashy. How hard is it to lotion your damn feet? 

And, I judge women that show their toes when their polish is badly chipped. How difficult is it to buy a bottle of nail polish remover and cotton balls? 

So, seeing a woman (or a man) in a porn with socks on, pisses me the FUCK off. This is supposed to be a fantasy! There is nothing fantastic about dingy white socks. At least get some fancy socks. 

1- This should go without saying; but, wash your feet when you’re in the shower. I mean, actually take a cleaning device (rag, loofa, exfoliating gloves, etc.) to your lower body parts with soap and scrub. Because soapy water running on your legs and feet, does not make them clean.  

2- Once out of the shower, moisturize your entire body (not just the parts that people will see). This means your feet! I will not have my legs all scratched up because you don’t care to lotion your feet.  

Ceasar from Black Ink Crew posted a picture of his crusty feet on Instagram and I was disgusted. The fact that some men walk around thinking that crusty toes are acceptable- is NOT OK.  

Let me make this clear… 

It is not ok for men to have gross feet.  

It does not make a man gay, if he goes to the nail salon to get a pedicure and/or manicure.  

So, please take care of your feet and hands.  

Occasionally people, especially women, get corns and bunions, from wearing heels or ill-fitting shoes. This is common, so this is not what I’m referring to.  

I’m talking about the people that don’t pay attention to the color of their toenail changing and 3 years later the shit is either some weird yellow or green shade, black, or thicker than a notebook. Bad toes, like bad teeth don’t happen overnight. So, that means you neglected your feet for years? I have to wonder- What else on your body do you neglect? 

You should always put your best feet (and hands) forward. When I’m single, I’m still at the nail salon every 3 weeks getting my nails and feet done; I wouldn’t have it any other way. I block out the 3-4 hours it will take; I often come in with some images of what I want, and let my lady do her job. I question women that only care about their nail maintenance when they’re in a relationship. I often wonder…Do you just give up when you’re single?  

But, back on the topic of sex and socks.  

There’s nothing I love more when my guy rubs my feet. I love when he runs his hands up my calf to my feet and pushes them back and over my head. I especially love when he’s hammering away at me and he takes my toes and puts them in his mouth.  

You simply can’t do that with dingy tube socks on. NO! NO! 

CORSET. COLLAR. LINGERIE. (Part 1)

I can’t believe I’ve been doing this for over a year… HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY TO TALESOFTONEY.COM I wanted to give a Thank You to all my followers, and the people who read my blog. This post is my birthday present to you, for sticking with me. And, I hope you continue to follow me on this journey.

New Year! New Perspective! New Experiences!

CORSET Part 1 

I walked into club armed with my handmade “HERPES +” necklace and “HERPES WARRIOR” bracelet. I decided to make my dress for the occasion; it was black, short & tight. I purposefully installed a front 2-way (top or bottom) opening zipper, easier access, if the evening took a turn for the better. Underneath I wore a corset that snatched my breath and waist away and pushed by breast up to my eyeballs. I looked and felt like sex.  

I had entered the party with the hopes of getting frisky but considering my herpes positive status I didn’t want to be too presumptuous. The club was more like a lounge, so I sat down at the bar. I chatted with the bartender that was willing to answer any question I asked her (as she has been part of the lifestyle for over a decade, she was very friendly and informative). I took the opportunity of my extremely early arrival to take a look around. There were a few male stragglers (none of which I was attracted to) and a few females enjoying hookah. I ascended the death-trap stairs and entered the “NO CELL PHONE” zone. Upstairs there was porn on the walls, 3 private rooms, a couple’s room, a group room, and a 6-person shower (I imagined on a busy night, that would be an enticingly sexy scene). After I got the lay of the land, l went back downstairs- ecstatic I made it without twisting an ankle. (I could imagine drunken women tumbling down the stairs on a regular occasion; but luckily since no phones could be out, they would only be haunted in their memories. I returned to the bar, and continued to sip my tequila (BYOB) and pineapple as I continued to observe the entering crowd.  

Couples had started to arrive; some were dressed in casual attire, while others were dressed to play. Many men wore jeans and t-shirts; while, women donned lingerie, body suits, or like me- dresses that left little to the imagination. My first conversation was with an Indian man, who was in a very sour mood. He told me he had attended on Valentine’s Day, but because he got too drunk, he was banned from bringing alcohol in the future. He complained that couples and some party-goers were racist. This, I thought was interesting, considering the fact that I made my decision to attend this particular venue because I heard the patrons looked more like me. I didn’t want to feel like the last kid picked for the team so I wanted to go to a place where my body type would be idolized vs demonized. He was kind of draining my energy so I was happy when he snuck out to drink from the liquor he had in his car.  

The next man I spoke to, we’ll call him Latch, was much more positive. He was heavy into the life with his ex but was inactive for a while. He told me all about his life and I acted like I really cared. He inquired what made me want to come to a sex party and I told him. For years I was nervous to attend because of my herpes status but one day I said ‘fuck it!’, did a little research, emailed to a plethora of swinger and poly forums, and decided to RSVP. His response was the usual “You’re so brave” etc. And then came the questions; so how do you keep your partners safe and what about your past relationships, etc. I told him the same story I recite every time I plan to have sex with a new partner. I take my meds (Valtrex or Acyclovir), abstain during flare-ups and just remain hyper aware of my body. It was enough to put his concerns at ease, then he invited me upstairs.  

I felt his eyes locked on my ass as he walked behind me. I was thankful I had walked upstairs earlier, had I not this strut would’ve looked way less sexy. We entered the room with an MFM 3-sum going on. There were people around taking in the sights and I admired the view. When they ended up near me, her hand grabbed my breast and it was all over for me. I locked on her lips and started sucking her breasts then made my way down to her clit. She was delicious and kept moaning “you’re a goddess” in my ear. Hands were on my ass through my fishnet tights and I got so wet. I kissed Latch and we went to the other side of the room. He removed my boots and tights and I sat on his face and he made me cum. I returned the favor and another patron came to join, I flashed him my bracelet and he joined the party as well. After a few rounds we got thirsty then headed back downstairs.  

This is where he got the name Latch. Back downstairs he continued to tell me more about his life; his work, his kid, his ex, blah blah blah. I didn’t want to be a bitch; I mean after all he did just pop my sex-party-cherry but, did I have to stay with him the entire night? I got tired of hearing him speak so I suggested going back upstairs. In the same room there was the same 3-sum going on and 2 more couples (one in full action while the other the girlfriend looked a little timid). Latch and I found our corner spot again and had a round of oral. I wanted to eat some more so I approached the other couples. I asked the first one if I could suck her breast- she declined (which is always a possibility- and when it happens you MOVE ON! (NO MEANS NO!)). I asked the other girl getting pounded out and she pulled my head down (so- I guess that was a yes!) When I had my fill of that Latch took me to a private room. He ate me out two more times. We tried having sex but he couldn’t keep it up, so eventually we went back downstairs.  

Sitting at the bar and feeling satisfied with my orgasms accomplished I locked eyes with a guy that got me wet all over again. His BDE (Big Dick Energy) pulled me all the way in. But Latch, true to his name, didn’t leave my side. It was getting late, approaching 4am, and I was ready to go home. I escaped to the bathroom to regroup and, when I came out Latch had disappeared- GREAT! I made a bee-line straight for the door and called my Uber home (he had offered me a ride, but I was quite done with his company). As I was putting on my jacket BDE walked into the coat check area. It was obvious that he wanted me to stay and play but since my Uber was on the way and I didn’t want to ruin my rating or run into Latch again, I declined. We exchanged numbers and agreed to meet at a later date. 

Part 2 (COLLAR) Next week.

THE EX THAT NEVER LEFT

ex that never left-01

In the beginning of the New Year I disabled and deleted all my online dating apps. I went cold turkey; I cut them all off. As I write this post, I am 15 days sober, and I realized that I over-estimated the number of horrible stories I had. Now I am faced with the question- Where do I want this blog to go? There a still a healthy amount of dating mishaps I will divulge but the topic of this post is essential to fully understand the upcoming stories. This post of extreme open-vulnerability IS LONG BUT NECESSARY. I will explain how I emerged from the flames and entered into a world of self-love and self-discovery, that I might not have otherwise experienced, had it not been for the below. So, I hope that at the conclusion of this post; you take a moment to be open and honest with yourself and start to change your mind about all that you thought you knew.  

I lost my virginity at the age of fourteen. I wasn’t in love or anything, I just thought the guy was cute and I wanted to get it over with. After that, I had a string of high-school boyfriends (at which time, dating for a month was the emotional equivalent of being married). I was never the girl your mother warned you about- because I would travel far and wide to do my dirt. Armed with thick bottle-cap glasses and my Catholic school uniform- no one could detect my true-sexual identity. In my late teens and during college I had a few flings here and there. After a long-term break up, that rocked me to my core (stay tuned for that one), I took a few months off from dating and then I met HIM- the one that would become THE EX THAT NEVER LEFT

We connected on BlackPlanet.com. He was educated, handsome, and he demonstrated a genuine interest for me and my likes. He was a stark contrast to the men I had dated and slept with before; he put a smile on my face and I never felt so secure. We would joke together, laugh together, and one day he even met my mom. It wasn’t official introduction, but it meant a lot that he joked with her, rather than evade conversation. When he took me out for my birthday; I wore a dress that I made and he complimented me on it, which made me feel very good. All was going well, until it wasn’t. After about 5 months of perfection he became unreachable, and we started seeing each other less and less. Eventually after two weeks of him pulling away, I sent him a message- I guess you no longer have interest. Wish you all the best. I concluded that he had started seeing someone else, so I left it alone. 

Two weeks later he popped back into my life- but not in a way I could see coming…  

It wasn’t the horror show you find online when you google; mine was much like a mosquito bite, which was why it didn’t cause for alarm at first. But when nothing aided in easing the discomfort, I showed my mom (a RN) and her friend and I went to my GYN. A week later, when my doctor finally confirmed my suspicions, my response was: “For all the years that I’ve been fucking- it’s the time that I’m in a committed relationship that I get herpes? YOU’VE GOT TO BE SHITTING ME!” Yes; He gifted me with Genital Herpes Type 2. WHAT THE ENTIRE FUCK!!!!! My young mind, in its early twenties, could not understand how this could’ve happened. I was doing everything right: I asked him all the questions: When was his last test? What were his results? -He assured me everything was fine. We used protection (condoms) and I know I wasn’t fucking anyone else; so why me, why now, and how?  

Through my research I discovered the following: He very well, may not have known he had it prior to me. Why? You ask. How could he not know? You ask. Well here’s your answer. 

1- People can be carriers and never have symptoms of the virus. So, people who never have an outbreak will automatically assume that they don’t have herpes, and yet, may pass it on to their partners.  

2- Doctors don’t willingly include herpes testing. On a medical scale of diseases and viruses in the world- herpes is at the bottom of the list. I can remember getting tested, for years, and not once was herpes ever included. Sure, they tested for chlamydia, gonorrhea, HIV, and syphilis; because if left untreated these could actually lead to cancer, infertility, and/or death. But, herpes- NOPE! So, since one has to specifically ask for it; and, (back to point 1) if you have no symptoms- why would you. 

3- It’s everywhere. Another major reason why doctors don’t test for herpes is because 80% (every site will indicate a different number) of the population is living with or has had some form of the herpes virus. For example, if you ever had chicken pox – that’s a strain of herpes; if you get older and develop shingles – that too is a strain of the herpes virus. The blisters people call cold sores is also a strain of the herpes virus. The only difference is the strain, stigma, and location of the outbreak. People with oral herpes aka cold sores (commonly HSV1, but can also be HSV2) don’t go around telling everyone about it; they live their life, kiss and date and be merry. However, people with genital herpes (whether Type 1 or Type 2) are expected to disclose. There is a reason there’s a rise in Genital Herpes Type 1 cases. Ever got head or ate pussy from a someone? Well- there you go. 

4- And lastly, he simply could have neglected to inform me. As horrible as that idea may seem – it’s just as much a possibility as the above are. I eventually had to take responsibility for my actions and my decision to take his word as truth. But, take it a step further…

Think about it- Did you ever had a one-night-stand? Did you ever meet a person and have sex (intercourse or oral) that night? Did you ask the person you were dating when they were tested last? Did you go and get tested together, just to be sure? Did you abstain from sex the required 3-6 months it takes your body to build antibodies once a virus is detected? Do you always use condoms (not just for intercourse, but for oral as well)? Do you follow your partner everywhere they go, to make sure they are being faithful? If you answer no to any of the above, you too, could have found yourself in my situation. You were just lucky not to. 

The occurrences of my outbreaks (1-2 a year) were as annoying as random mosquito bites. So, even though I wish I didn’t have this- I still consider myself lucky. The worst part of this virus is THE STIGMA attached to it. The idea that people would think you’re dirty (I take 3 showers a day sometimes), or a slut (I prefer the term sexually-free) is more painful and always in the background of my mind.

During the many years and conversations, I’ve had with thousands of people I can confirm that, there is no direct relation between sexuality and herpes. I met people who were born with herpes or contracted it from sharing a beverage with a parent or friend. I met virgins that were gifted by their first partner, women and men that were gifted by their cheating spouses, people who were victims of rape and/or sexual assault, people that could count on one hand their partners and acquired their gift, and people that fell in love with a positive person and made the decision to stay with them. I also know sex workers and porn stars (with hundreds and thousands of partners) that are herpes negative. Herpes does not care who you are, how sexual you are, your nationality, religion, salary, etc. It simply does not care and having this virus does not change who a person is. 

So, after the initial wave of devastation passed, I confided in a close group of friends, one of which had a history of cold-sores (Oral Herpes) and asked her how she dated with the virus. I didn’t run into conversations exposing my diagnosis, but I told my partners on a ‘need to know’ basis and it worked, for years. When I would enter relationships, I would tell my partners and, luckily, they were all accepting. The fear that often lurked in the back of my mind: What’s he going to think? Will he hate me? Will he break up with me? Was always put at ease the moment he said ‘It’s ok. I still want to be with you. Thank you for telling me. And, “This doesn’t change how I feel about you”. I was lucky to have met men that were accepting of my status; and to this date, I have been successful in never transmitting my virus to a partner.  

Fast forward some more years- I had concluded that, if the man really liked me, and was ok with getting to get to know me before trying to have sex, my disclosure conversation (DC) would go over much better. This worked out great; until I broke up with my last ex (The Ex Files) and started dating again. After him It was obvious that I was in a very new world of dating and I was totally clueless to the rules of the game.  

Long gone were the days of conversation; everyone wanted to ask me my favorite position. So long was the idea of meeting up for a first date; everyone wanted to send me dick-pics and get a confirmation of sex. Hell, even the corny guys were playing the fast game. How the hell was I going to manage my newly found sexually-free identity with my status? Would I be outcasted as a leper? Would I be forced into celibacy? I didn’t like the idea of either. I could limit my dating pool to people in my similar situation, but I never liked limits and the people on those sites were just as bad as other online dating apps. So, I took a chance and I figured the only way to discover what would happen, would be to dive right in; and I’ll admit what I found was quite empowering, and I hope you stay tuned for more.