I am becoming tired of Miss Marble. She is me, I am her. I probably wasn’t really fooling anyone anyway. Trying to hide your identity requires too much proofreading. I’ve already written some of what I’m about to write in French in my other Tumblr blog but I’m assuming not all that many of you are reading that one.
As a child, I was always tremendously interested in sex. Not actually doing it, collecting information about it. At a very early age, I knew most everything about how to orgasm, what positions worked best and why. My biggest source of information was Cosmopolitan magazine, highly reliable even today! I was fascinated by the forbidden Playboy magazines carefully hidden at my grandparent’s house. Once backs were turned I was drawn to this world of nudity and sex. I even went so far as to take an outing with scissors, nice smelling school glue, construction paper and a couple of those magazines. I was in the midst of making a collage when my grandma found me. I was her only precious grandchild at the time but she liked me a lot less that day. In my own home, slyly hidden under my mom and step-father’s bed there was a lovely edition of the Joy of Sex. It had pencil illustrations and I found the couple portrayed to be hairy and ugly but nonetheless, I knew that book by heart by the ripe age of about ten.
Maybe none of this is that unusual. I didn’t have siblings when I was a child so I can’t compare myself to them. I don’t remember any childhood friends that expressed much interest in this kind of thing. What I do find unusual is the fact that as a child, I have no recollection of masturbating. I was of the non-masturbating species until my thirties. Really. You don’t have to believe me, but it’s true. I have no memory of being told I’d be burned at the stake or go blind if I did, my parents were not particularly staunch or religious. My mother didn’t have much advice to give about sex or anything else related to it. She said it was better to wait for marriage, that it is more enjoyable with someone you actually care about. I’d say, not necessarily, and waiting for marriage was archaic even when I was a teenager. My father’s best advice was, “Keep an aspirin between your knees and you’ll be fine.” I didn’t understand this when I was sixteen and I still don’t understand it today, but I’m just trying to say I wasn’t raised in a puritanical way. So I can’t really explain why I didn’t masturbate. I remember saying to a girl when I was in my late twenties, “It’s like when a guy you like touches your elbow, you’re electrified. But when you touch your own elbow….” and that is really what I thought about the whole deal.
My sexless marriage has led me to do many things I thought I never would. Entering a sex-shop in Stuttgart, Germany is one of them. I have to say that in Germany there are about as many sex-shops as there are pharmacies and although my first big purchase was prior to the time when sex-shops became Clean Wal-Mart of Sex, this place was in no way sleazy or frightening to me. Where I’m spent the best years of my sex-life in Denver, Colorado, there are loads of sex-shops on Colfax Avenue. I would have never dreamed of going into one for fear of never coming back out, being sold into white-slavery and forced to learn the art of picking up coins with my snatch. My goal in buying my first sex-toy was to make my husband either feel aroused or feel guilty that I had sunk to this. Neither of these tactics worked at all but I have to say I have no regrets. The first one cost only fifteen euros, was silver and was so beautiful, I figured you could leave it laying on the coffee table and people would assume it was a lovely decorative item. I named him Juanito and we became very close very quickly.
Sometimes it is only after you have learned something that you realize to what extent you were an idiot before. All of my documentation work, my whoring around…none of it was as instructive as Juanito. Obviously, women are very different from men. Getting there is not always so easy and it can be even more elusive (The Big O”) when you don’t know exactly how to all by your lonesome. Thanks to Juanito at least now I know the way. It is a powerful feeling in some ways but I would have preferred a less solitary sex-life. That’s another story!
I’m sharing a link of a French photographer’s work. I think it is really beautiful and I’m sure he will be famous because he is really talented.