Interview with bone&silver

June 15, 2018June 15, 2018 ~ Midlife Dating Adventures ~ 31 Comments

True tales over 50 (Love for self, the planet and that tricky teen) – by the infamous and wonderful, G

This is another in my regular series of in-depth and (hopefully) insightful interviews with bloggers who write on the topics of female sexuality, midlife adventures or dating in the modern age. You can find others here, here, here, here and here.

Firstly G, I’d love to know the backstory of your blog – why you started it, when, and what your goals were? Do ideas for topics just come to you or do you carefully prepare? Where does the name of your blog come from and what’s its significance for you?

My blog started as a motivator to write more regularly. I’d kept a couple in the past (one on puppetry, and one on dealing with the loss of my Dad, and whether to read his personal journals or not), but wanted more freedom to write about whatever cropped up. I started bone&silver in Aug 2015, as my son and I were about to travel overseas for 2 months, so I figured it would be a good communication tool for friends and family.

I don’t carefully prepare topics at all. I love spontaneity and the impulse of the moment, so try to follow the creative inspiration when it finds me; it can be an image, a feeling, a fellow blogger’s post, or an experience I’ve just had.

I brainstormed the name with a few creative friends, and love it so much! As it says on my About page, I write about the truths I feel in my bones, and am proudly a silver fox who refuses to dye her hair, because Ageism and ‘grey-shaming’ on women utterly sucks. I am proud to be authentically me.

Since that time, what do you think you’ve got out of it? The benefits and the challenges? What do you love about having a blog and so many loyal readers?

I’ve gained so much more skill and discipline in crafting good post. I just love blogging, and wish I could do it all day sometimes. I love the connection with other readers and writers, and the huge variety of topics I can learn about; I follow a wide spread of blogs and interests. Without doubt, I love my readers and regular commenters so much – they help and support me through deep challenges and fun times too. I’ve received such insights and care from my readers.

Because UTC focuses on relationships and online dating would you like to share some of your learning over the time you’ve been giving it a go? As an online dating veteran (since 2009!) you must have seen a lot, experienced a lot and made some changes in your approach or expectations over that time?

I began on RSVP, and quickly found it very conservative, and full of men over 50 who were possibly married and being deceptive. I found one treasure of a bi-man and we are still firm friends. A groovy online expert sent me to OkCupid, and I found my online dating home there in 2010! Don’t forget, I’m in Australia, so the dating pool is waaaaaaay smaller than the American one; OKC back then was full of all the kinky, poly, queer, open-minded, and fluid folk I adore. I had a fabulous time in that community, and encouraged many other women over 45 to join. Sitting passively at home wishing you were having more sex or romance IS A WASTE OF TIME LADIES: go out and get it. That’s my basic philosophy really. And I tell every woman who’s thinking of online dating to remember this: you are the prize at the top of the mountain, and people have to work their way up to you, rather than you selling yourself to them.

What is your current philosophy on dating, relationships and your goals now that you’re single again? Do you have any comment to make on relationship models and your journey, beliefs and what you’re seeking now and into the future? Has this changed much over recent years?

Currently, I just want fun, attention, non-monogamous connections, but always with good communication and mutual respect. ‘Having fun’ is a huge motivator for me. I get very excited by a wide range of relationship models, and have been exploring polyamory both theoretically and physically since 2011. Monogamy is easier, but kinda bores me after a while… I have no desire to ‘settle down’ and live with a partner, as I LOVE living alone, but having someone next door or down the road would be lovely. As long as there was a negotiated freedom for other connections, whether just sexual, or more emotionally-based. As a Feminist, I continually seek a sense of freedom from oppression, especially those imposed by the patriarchy or religious dogma. Stuff that.

Based on your experiences, what would you say about the differences between straight dating and other combinations such as same-sex dating? Is there common ground that is universal? What are some of the unique issues?

My immediate response to this question is of course unfortunately ‘safety’. I will meet a woman way more quickly than a man, and just feel less cautious and protective. I would be quicker to go home with a woman too.

Common grounds are definitely that we’re all looking for connection, whether just sexual or more involved. Unique issues for me are that women’s politics are generally the same as mine, as we have the same ‘lived’ experience in this world run by men, whereas men can be very diverse in their attitudes and presentation.

Do you think there are unique issues in relationship breakups between women? What are some of the stressors? Have you made any resolutions to stand by?

As a general rule, women will do a lot more mutual crying and expressing together. There is often an incredible sense of friendship and care, which can be complex to unravel from the ‘girlfriend’ connection. Women tend to get more intimately involved with each others’ female friends, so again there can be a challenge re loyalties and un-entwining. The only resolutions I’ve made are to try to be kind, yet also take good care of myself and my personal needs for healing, which may mean minimal or no contact for a while for example (I had to do this with one female ex, who just didn’t understand it at all- I even had to delete her from my Facebook to get some space) It depends on the emotional investment I guess, and the hurt being experienced by one or other of you. Mutual break ups are the best.

What are the challenges of writing about a relationship as it unfolds? What are your thoughts on the ethics of writing publicly about relationships generally? Is there a tension between the rights of the person expressing their truth and the rights of the person being written about? You write about a first meeting here, which is both funny and poignant.

Great question. For me, writing about my new online romance was part of the creative connection and inspiration I shared with my beloved ex ‘H’; I would write them stories or blog posts, and in return receive hand-drawn comics. From the very beginning, ‘H’ was clear that I had the freedom to use my creativity to express and explore via my blog; I did sometimes worry if I’d written too intimately, and would always have deleted if ‘H’ said so, but they were often the posts ‘H’ liked best.

Now that I’m dating new people, I am choosing to write about them so far in general terms only, and wouldn’t involve them in greater detail without a clear discussion and their full consent. As a mature woman and artist, I believe it’s my duty to reflect a positive ageing experience, which includes dating and sex, but I need to find the balance between respecting privacies, yet creating intimacy with my readers. It’s a fine line, and I admire bloggers such as yourself who go for more in-depth details.

How do you see the evolution of dating and finding a mate unfolding across the generations or the eras? For example, we are both Gen X women over 40 and I’m sure we have a lot of common ground in the challenges of being single at our age and stage. Thoughts?

I refuse to stay home and grow old + lonely on the couch; I love online dating, and the thrill of the chase. I’m certainly not looking for a life partner ‘to complete me’ though, as I have achieved a lot by myself, and love the life I’ve created. I have my awesome son, amazing friends like family, and own my own home. I have travelled the world by myself, and love my own company… it would be nice to have someone special to snuggle up with sometimes though, hence my online dating skills. I don’t necessarily believe in a ‘happy ever after’ with one person, but I do enjoy spending precious time and adventures with meaningful people.

You have used the phrase ‘the dating roundabout’ a few times – why is that? Do you think it’s like a roundabout with no one destination or …?

There are certainly patterns that I can see in online dating, such as signing up with enthusiasm, drooling over various profiles, sending out a bunch of messages, hearing nothing in return, and getting jaded by the whole process within a fortnight. In that way, it’s a roundabout, as I search, message, meet, decline/get declined etc. But I don’t keep going round and round mindlessly; I have learnt an awful lot, and when I feel like I need a break, I happily step off.

Your blog topics are wonderfully diverse and I guess the common theme is your interests and your life over 50? Tell me about how and why you started some of them, eg France and travel?

I got more serious about the blog when staying in France for 2 months with my son; we had lots of time to read and write, so I got into a blogging habit. As an artist, travelling to perform at festivals and events, I have a fairly interesting and unexpected lifestyle, so can always find something to blog about. I also live in a pretty quirky corner of Australia, near Byron Bay, so am exposed to lots of different viewpoints and experiences; I like to share new ideas.

How much does your everyday life inform your blog writing? Is there much crossover?

They are deeply intertwined! As a writer, I’m always noticing details, or finding story ideas in the way someone walks past me, or something I overhear in a café. And when I go through a personal drama or challenge, it is often mirrored in other blogs I’m reading, so I will reach out for advice or to offer empathy.

Your popular ‘Teenage son’ section has recently become controversial – I’d love to hear how that started and about the challenges of writing about our children once they become ‘of an age’.

Ha: ‘Controversial’ in that he told me to stop writing about him! He is an important part of my life (obviously), and quite a character, so to NOT include him would be difficult. The ‘Teenage Tuesdays’ just evolved as we were practicing driving on his Learner plates, and he kept saying funny things I would remember… but now he’s banned me from using his humor. I absolutely have to respect his privacy.

I’d love to hear more about your writing – goals and ambitions? Where you’ve come from… I like this piece where you talk about how important writing is to you.

I’ve always kept journals, as did my Dad. I’d love to write a book (or 10), but what about? What genre? Could I keep the discipline of working at it? I am an avid reader (my Mum was a librarian), but blogging’s immediacy seems to suit my personality best. Writing is definitely one very important way I process life experiences. I also enjoy the freedom to press the ‘Publish’ button without needing anyone else’s approval.

How much does your environment and location stimulate you to write or give you a focus for your blog?

Great question. My creative training is as a dancer, clown, and Improvisor; so being Here, in this Moment, is the major aim of all three disciplines, which easily translates to blogging about what happened this morning in the car, at the beach, or on the news.

How do your beliefs or convictions as a feminist, someone passionate about caring for the environment and sustainability, and performing/art intersect and connect in the blog and in your life?

If asked to define myself, the first word I would choose would be Feminist. Then Artist/dancer, then mother/vegetarian etc. I feel fiercely that we all need to honour and respect our only Earth, especially for our children and grandchildren; these filters are how I live my life, and I’d never change them. For me, they all feel right.

How does it help you to express and share a piece like the one about your father’s passing? Is it in the getting it outside of us, or the sharing that seems to help for you? Are there any downsides to writing personal tragedy or deep feelings?

Losing my Dad was a terrible shock, which rocked our extended family for a long time; expressing the rollercoaster of emotions that follow a death helped me experience that sharing is a way to dispel pain, to offer hope or advice for others, and most importantly to break down barriers around mental health or other taboo subjects. It also builds community, and reflects other’s experiences back to themselves as valid, unique, yet also universal. I often cry while writing deeper pieces, which feels good afterwards. As an artist/performer, some of my best performances are the ones which move others to tears, so to be able to do that with words is wonderful. We’re all here to connect and share our experiences I believe, so that’s how I try to blog; my readers’ comments are without doubt my most treasured gift from blogging.

Shockingly Bad Sex

March 25, 2018March 25, 2018 ~ Midlife Dating Adventures ~ 55 Comments

I’ve written before about how I see good and bad sex, and if I were to take that further, and start a series called ‘dud sex experiences’, this guy would be at the top.

I’m not proud of saying this, in fact, I wish I didn’t have to make the confession because even remembering our sexual experience fills me with Revulsion with a capital R. It was during my first year online dating, but that’s no real excuse for poor judgement, although maybe a raging libido is some kind of justification.

I should have listened to my warning bells – yet again – though they were dull and tinkly rather than a full-blown clanging, there were a few signs I could have noticed. Sigh. Why can’t it all be much simpler, with straight-forward people and instant assessments of character and circumstances available to my now-well-seasoned mind?

In this case, though, it might have taken a little more to see what lay beneath the surface.
My revulsion is not a feeling he shared, apparently, for when I tried, weeks later, to break off all connection or feelings of obligation on my part in a really obvious way, he wouldn’t accept it. “Oh no, please!” he begged me. “Sex with you was fantastic!”

If I had to choose one word that describes my opinion of sex with him, it would be ‘embarrassing’. If I could stretch it to two, it would be ‘disappointing and embarrassing’.

If the benefits of hindsight had kicked in a little sooner, I’d have been on the lookout for signs of his ‘developmental delay’, which in my estimation was just another way of saying, politely, that he had a mild intellectual disability. Nothing against that, but it makes him the polar opposite of what attracts me as a borderline sapiosexual being, though his external packaging was of course handsome and appealing.

He was about 30 and tall, quite rugged, with a brooding, sexy look and a generous mouth. “You’re nice to kiss,” I said during our first hour together. “Yes, I know,” he responded.

We met on the free app Oasis and chatted lightly in small talk for a week or two, on and off. I gave him the benefit of the doubt right from the start – his user name (Brickie) should have sent me a sign, but I wasn’t necessarily after brains – brawn would do if it was nicely presented, polite and clean. And good in bed. But let’s not go there just yet.

We got to the stage of chatting on What’s app and via text and then Brickie phoned me out of the blue when I was out walking my dog. That was, well, okay but a little awkward. I put his pushiness down to an eagerness to meet me.

He definitely wasn’t after a one-night stand (he was emphatic in his Oasis profile about that) but he had a lot of time on his hands due to part-time work and not enough of it. Missed signal number one: be suspicious about guys with too much time on their hands.

We spoke twice before we arranged to meet. I missed another major signal when Brickie complained about how far away I lived and tried to get me to meet near his place – an hour’s drive for me. I refused and eventually we settled on a town close to mine, from which we could drive to my place if I felt inclined.

We met outside the cafe on a chilly morning in a slight drizzle, and although I was impressed by his statuesque physique and pleasant good looks, I wasn’t quite prepared to be drawn into a passionate and excited kiss on greeting, nor for him to shepherd my hand to his swollen groin.

However, I didn’t balk (missed signal number three: beware the man who breaks social conventions) and, rather stupidly I admit now, agreed that we wouldn’t actually go inside for a coffee; we would proceed straight to my place.

Brickie followed me in his car, the same hoon mobile about which he’d waxed lyrical in his phone call, how much money he’d spent hotting it up – turns out that me living on a gravel road almost gave him an ulcer in anxiety about the ‘body kit’ being damaged.

During the short drive back to my place I contemplated the morning ahead. A day of sexual gratification and fun is what I planned. I’d confirmed his appearance in the brief meeting (I wasn’t going to fall for the fake pic trick again).

More importantly, I’d used my senses and gut feeling for his energy – could I trust him in my home? Did he feel ‘dangerous’? I knew about that feeling and was still grateful I’d listened to my instinct at least once. My senses about him confirmed that Brickie was harmless, a little like a floppy, gormless Labrador. But he might be fun between the sheets!

He was impressed by my home but still bleating about possible damage to his car’s underbelly on the short patch of road that led to my property. I smiled in serene tolerance and a slight bemusement as I led him indoors and, almost immediately, he embraced me in a second passionate kiss.

That was arousing and I would have liked it to continue a lot longer than it did, but somehow in what seems in my memory to be a matter of minutes, he’d got me in the bedroom and was enthusiastically undressing me.

The kissing had ended and he was intent on taking his pleasure – and by his haste, it appeared that it had been quite some time since he’d last been satisfied!

Now it’s a bit of a blur (yes, I’ve willingly blocked it out) but the experience went more or less like this.

Kiss me roughly, remove top, bra, pull off trousers and undies, lift top over head and throw to floor, pull stockings and skirt off me and throw to floor, ineptly play with my breasts, clumsily stroke me between the legs a few times then lie back and wait to be serviced.

“Do you like my dick?” he asked more than once, eager for approval.

I moved aside my growing uneasiness and attempted to ignite some passion but I couldn’t muster much enthusiasm and so gave up after a few minutes. Second thoughts were pushed aside as I attempted to rescue the situation by giving in a half-hearted blowjob for as long as I could stand.

“Oh no!” he whined like a petulant child when I stopped. “You only just started!” I reassured him that it was just the beginning of a fabulous day and so ‘foreplay’ limped onwards.

Intermission

I’ll just interrupt proceedings here to bring you a short intermission about how much I loathe that word.

I’m far from the first woman to point out that the term ‘foreplay’ implies that penetration is the main event, and anything leading up to that wondrous moment is a mere distraction. Or necessary preparation, like the boring cutting-in of the edges, cornices and skirting boards before painting the full room. (I’ve renovated way too many houses, you can tell).

Maybe if we abandoned that word ‘foreplay’ and just called it ‘sex’ we’d edge closer to removing the orgasm gap and achieving a higher rate of female orgasm with a sexual partner than the estimated 57% mark.

If you’re keen to know more about female sexuality data, check out my recent article here. And definitely go hunting for the trail blazer, Shere Hite, who studied the personal recounts of thousands of women across all American demographics and (living) generations to record their experiences in the bedroom. (Not just with men either, with themselves and with other women).

And perhaps if women’s sexual needs weren’t portrayed as ‘difficult’ or ‘time consuming’, we’d consistently be a little more satisfied, and less inclined towards guilt or shame that our parts didn’t exactly mimic those of men.

“There’s money to be made from portraying women’s bits as freakish, their sexual performances deficient and their libidos somehow faulty,” points out Van Badham in her review of the book about female sexuality Come As You Are.

The author, Dr Emily Nagoski, says that, “every woman has her own unique sexuality, like a fingerprint, and that women vary more than men in our anatomy, our sexual response mechanisms, and the way our bodies respond to the sexual world. So we never need to judge ourselves based on others’ experiences. Because women vary, and that’s normal.

“Second lesson: sex happens in a context. And all the complications of everyday life influence the context surrounding a woman’s arousal, desire, and orgasm.”

The book argues that creating and sustaining a fulfilling sex life is not about what you do in bed or how you do it, but how you feel about it. This means that stress, mood, trust, and body image are not peripheral factors in a woman’s sexual wellbeing; they are central to it.

So it’s less about how our bits work and more about the whole person – just like general health, being holistic is important when discussing sexual pleasure. “Citing science is apparently needed to justify facts about sex that anyone born in a female body should already, implicitly know. No adult should really need a book to tell them that getting enough sleep, eating well, avoiding overwork, feeling good about yourself and not banging a loser are essential to sexual happiness,” says Van Badham.

Not banging a loser is particularly pertinent here, so if you can bear it, read on for the inevitable letdown.

I can scarcely bear to recall the detail of what then followed with Brickie in my bed that afternoon, but it involved fumbling with a condom and putting it on inside out (he refused to believe that was possible – where was his sex education?) and then almost immediate penetration and climax. He grunted on top of me, his hands possessively claiming my breasts, “I comed! I comed!”

Oh I tried in vain to wrestle the situation back to my advantage, even to the point of putting his hand between my legs, but after a few lacklustre and rather painful swipes, and my attempts to slow him down and teach him some ‘lady parts etiquette’, his response was an indignant insistence that it had to be fast and hard or it wouldn’t work.

At this point I was on the verge of saying, incredulously, “For fuck’s sake, do you think I don’t know my own body?!” I bit my tongue and made the best of it – but ‘the best’ was a pitiful thing for me. My vibrator was almost ashamed to be involved, since she’d known far more pleasurable occasions without a man in the room, lying next to me like a comatose baboon.

Afterwards he lay leaden on me, drooling on my chest and half-heartedly stroking me.
“Are we Fuck Buddies now?” he asked.

I laughed and made a non-committal response. I was feeling generous in my post-orgasmic glow (that he had in no way contributed to), and so I listened to his life story.

It went something like this: Struggled in school, violent father, disinterested mother, early diagnosis of developmental delay, limited education, left school early, parents ‘asked him’ to leave home, struggled with depression and unhappy living arrangements as a boarder in a house of schizophrenics with a tendency for violence, patchy working life but a reasonably positive ‘never-say-die’ attitude.

It was exhausting listening to his life. My mind was reeling about generational disadvantage, the critical nature of the early years of a child’s life, and what a tragedy it was that this simple but innocent soul was unguided in life. I sensed he was looking for a mother figure, and probably for good reason – but this wasn’t going to be me.

Especially not when he hadn’t the first clue about the female body and no discernible interest in learning its delights.

Eventually he grew hungry and I grew bored. We dressed and I made him lunch, kissed him goodbye and closed the door. Phew.

Then it hit me, he knew where I lived. True, I hadn’t written down the address and seeing how he was, it was unlikely he’d remember how to find my home again, but it was still a risk. I decided to gradually ease him away from me. This wasn’t too difficult as it was soon to be school holidays and I told him when he messaged me later that night, that I’d be “busy for a while”.

It’s also true that I recoiled from my responsibility – to tell him clearly that I didn’t want to be his Fuck Buddy and that I actually never wanted to see him again – because of a misguided sense of responsibility and a fear of ‘hurting his feelings’.

And so I tried to let him down gently, but he never understood what my ignoring his messages or answering the phone and saying (politely) that I couldn’t talk now, and not scheduling a follow-up date meant.

He didn’t understand it when I specifically told him that I wasn’t interested in a relationship with him, or with anyone. He didn’t get it when I said that he needed to move on, that one brief occasion with me didn’t mean that we were going to morph into anything else. “But I feel like you used me,” he said.

What if I had used him? Sure, it didn’t result in any sexual (or otherwise) pleasure, plus I’d fed him and he’d got his orgasm so what was he complaining about?

This experience, along with so many similar ones, taught me that we need to say what we feel, say what we mean, and that sometimes by beating around the bush or ghosting, we exacerbate someone’s confusion, their pain or their feelings of loss.

The Brickie wanted something I couldn’t give. A new life with someone who cared about him. Sometimes this dating game just breaks my heart.