Let’s hear it from Ernest Hemingway
“If my Valentine you won’t be,
I’ll hang myself on your Christmas tree.”
How’s that for emotional blackmail?
Let’s hear it from Ernest Hemingway
“If my Valentine you won’t be,
I’ll hang myself on your Christmas tree.”
How’s that for emotional blackmail?
Funny that the month we globally associated with the most powerful emotion of all featured imprisonment execution and martyrdom. Come to think of it, it sounds a lot like a marriage, don’t you think so?
If Valentine day is a place it would be Paris, the city of love with its catacombs, network of dark tunnels and more than six million human remains. A fitting allegory for the most complicated of all relationships__ romantic love.
Where everything is not what it seems and open for interpretation. No wonder there is a lot of broken out there. Broken hearts, broken vows, broken marriages, and so forth and so on.
Here is a quote I find quotable:
“February is a suitable month for dying. Everything around is dead, the trees black and frozen so that the appearance of green shoots two months hence seems preposterous, the ground hard and cold, the snow dirty, the winter hateful, hanging on too long.”
There you go.
Happy Love month people.
He was the man I loved for so many years. He held up my universe inside his pocket and picked up the stars so he could light up my night. I wanted to believe that he loved me too. Because he said so, in whispers, in screams, in his sleep, in his songs, in his eyes. For so many years, I let him invade my heart. He let me love him in my own selfish ways. We have so many misunderstandings we took a few days to settle and solve. And we have past mistakes that came up whenever we argue. He barely understood my own language but he studied it so he could see which part of me was vulnerable to hold.
If we are going to talk about endings, then probably that thing has been overused and was scratched too hard I felt numb. We broke up and we got back again. We stopped yet we started again. We paused yet we decided to keep going.
Yet, all endings always had its own severe ending. The one that makes you realize that it won’t come back. The one that makes you ache for silence because you know he won’t reach out. The ending that we all fear.
But I tried to move out and tried new places, without him. Without his shadow. Without his smile and grips and his voice that calms me down. I tried moving out and started collecting scattered dust until I could have my new universe again. I searched for him in someone else’s eyes and voice. I looked for him in someone else’s skin and smell. But I realized he was the only one. He was one of a kind that no matter how many times he hurts me, I could still take it. No matter how many times he forced me to leave, I’d still run as fast as I could in his snap of wave and flash of a smile.
I realized he never holds my universe rather he became my universe. That every time I hear the words love and pain, his face will appear crystallized.
Yet he found his new world.
He found it in you.
Now that you’re with him, you got to understand that he’s unpredictable and changes so often. But as long you could stay, please do.
I might be the girl he had as his dreams form. I might be the girl he got to watch his all-time favorite movies and the first who heard the songs he wrote as he strummed his guitar. I might be his first love as what he called it but you’re with him now.
And you will have him in ways I could never have. I am now a part of the past that will one day be forgotten.
Yet here you are, the one he sees spending the future with and the rest of his life with. The woman he sees growing a family with and pajama cuddles and morning coffees and the hand he’ll hold while traveling the world. The woman he sees sharing the same water bottle and beer-stained kisses, and teases under blankets or the hair he’ll play in his finger and the head that rests upon his chest when you sleep.
And he still has me,
more like a memory,
a told story,
an ending example.
But he has you,
more like a dream,
a vision of wedding aisle,
a wedding dress,
a mother to his children,
a body he comes home for,
a rocking chair,
He looks at you
the same way
I see him.
take care of him.
“It can be difficult to leave a long-term relationship, even when our inner-wisdom tells us it’s time to let go. At this point, we can choose let go and endure the intense pain of leaving behind the familiar to make way for a new chapter in our life. Or we can stay and suffer a low-grade pain that slowly eats away at our heart and soul, like emotional cancer. Until we wake up, one day and realize, we are buried so deep in the dysfunction of the relationship that we scarcely remember who we were and what we wanted and needed to be.”
― Jaeda DeWalt
~by Bella Bliss via Elephant Journal
I don’t remember ever having faked an orgasm in my life, honestly. For many years I just didn’t have orgasms with lovers, but somehow it never occurred to me to fake it. However, I am realizing lately how common it is for women to fake orgasms.
Quite a few of my female clients tell me they fake it because they feel so dissatisfied sexually and just want to get it over with. This happens for many different reasons related to lack of contact with their sexual energy, low libido, insecurity, lack of connection to the body, relationship issues and not enough foreplay.
Considering our global average for total sexual intercourse time of roughly four minutes, it’s safe to say that most couples don’t spend much time on foreplay. This can be an issue since, according to Tantric principles, a woman’s body needs much more time to fully awaken and reach states of ecstasy and true orgasm. I usually recommend at least 30 minutes of foreplay, preferably more.
If you don’t believe that women fake orgasms, or that there’s a remote possibility you’ve ever been with a woman who faked an orgasm, see the video clip below for Meg Ryan’s spectacular and convincing fake orgasm. Ahem, so that’s settled then.
Even when they are having orgasms, many female clients I meet only experience short, superficial clitoral orgasms, leaving them feeling exhausted and depleted afterward. Very few women experience deeper internal orgasms or the feeling of dissolving into orgasmic bliss or expanding into an ecstasy that is actually part of every woman’s sexual potential.
A friend of mine was taught in high school sex education that 90% of women cannot have internal orgasms, so she didn’t bother even trying to have anything but clitoral orgasms. My own sex education in Australia in the 90s basically consisted of putting a condom on a banana. This kind of disempowering, bogus “sex education” makes me annoyed.
Why not teach women that their body can be a wonderland of ecstatic bliss if they’ll only devote the time and energy to discovering its secrets? Why not teach men that they can have whole body non-ejaculatory orgasms? Why not teach all teenagers that sex can be sacred, profound, loving and deeply transforming when done consciously?
Most of us are never taught that there are more than 50 different kinds of female orgasm. The clitoris is just one tiny, little aspect of female sexuality. The real gold lies buried deeper in the Yoniverse (vagina)—the G-spot, the A-spot, and the cervix are all important places to get to know better.
Then there’s also whole body energetic orgasm, orgasm from nipple stimulation, vaginal canal orgasms, orgasms that come from your lover kissing your labia, the list goes on. Women usually need long, slow foreplay to experience these kinds of orgasms. Men need long foreplay too, to build the sexual energy gradually so they can last longer, connect deeper to their partner and develop higher sensitivity.
It’s not about chasing orgasms though, the idea is to become orgasmic. We want to feel the orgasmic energy flowing through our bodies for hours on end, interspersed with more intense orgasms, rather than just short peak experiences where we feel exhausted afterward.
During prolonged states of profound pleasure and orgasm, we let go of the mind, any stress and tensions, and relax into the fullness of who we are. The more often we can experience these states with awareness, the easier it is to release limiting ego patterns, become more conscious and connected to ourselves and our loved ones and feel our blissful nature in all areas of life. Sex becomes a deep spiritual practice.
So without further ado, here are my seven essential elements of Tantric foreplay:
1. Make sure you’re in a good mood and feeling connected,
Contrary to popular belief, foreplay doesn’t begin in the bedroom. It starts with making sure you’re in a good mood and feeling connected to yourself, then and only then can you truly connect with your lover. Do whatever you need to do before to feel relaxed, peaceful and present in your body: move around, dance, do yoga, meditate, run, have a bath. Just don’t go straight from work or being on the computer to play time! Take time to prepare yourself so you feel fresh and clean and wear something you feel good in.
2. Create an inspiring space,
Dirty dishes, piles of washing or paperwork, kids toys and clutter are just not a turn-on, ever. Take a little time to create an inspiring sacred space for your lovemaking. Some people say that the difference between Tantric sex and regular sex is incense and candles. That’s not exactly true, but I do really love lighting a few candles to set the mood and transform a mundane space into something more beautiful and magical. I strongly recommend banning all overhead lighting from your intimate experiences. Think soft, gentle lamp light and mood lighting. Throwing fabric over unseemly clutter works wonders too.
3. Connect in the heart first.
Take a few minutes to just sit together and tune in to your partner and let go of any distractions from your day. Simply hold hands, breath, close your eyes and feel the connection between you. Visualise love flowing between your hearts. Set the intention to be fully present, give your best to each other and have a beautiful experience together.
4. Let go of the idea of a goal.
In Tantric foreplay, we’re not just trying to get things wet enough to go on to the main event of penetration. We focus on being conscious in every moment, taking time to really feel, going slowly, developing a more refined sensitivity instead of going for more sensation. A slow warm-up is essential and makes for more ecstatic bliss later for everyone.
Men, don’t skip straight to the breasts or genitals, but take time to caress her whole body – there are many erogenous zones to discover! Keep the foreplay going for at least half an hour, no matter how much she begs for you to come inside. Just try it. Trust me. Also, for a change, don’t end in ejaculation and feel the difference in your energy level afterward.
5. Explore orally.
Traditionally, Tantric foreplay involves the man being more active, as his body generally doesn’t need as much time to warm up. I heard a joke once: For a man, there are basically only two types of foreplay: The first is waiting to have his penis touched, and the second is having his penis touched.
So, men, it is generally better to kiss her down there first and let her warm up deliciously slowly. Take time to get to know her intimately, don’t focus on the clitoris too much. Experiment with different tongue strokes. Realise how beautiful and sacred this part of her body is. Honor every inch of her.
6. Be intuitive, follow the flow, be spontaneous.
Most articles I’ve read about Tantric foreplay say things like, “Take a bath together, touch each other in this specific way, lick her toes one by one.” In reality, there is no set formula and it can be a danger to follow those kinds of specific instructions because everyone is different. It’s just about tuning in to your partner and feeling what connects you deeper and makes you more present together.
7. Above all else, strive to be present.
Keep your eyes open and the lights on most of the time. Stay present together. There is nothing sexier than someone fully present in their body, someone so conscious they can feel even the most subtle orgasmic energy and let it fill their whole body completely.
If you’re totally stuck in your mind, you can’t feel connected to your lover, and you definitely can’t dissolve into ecstatic orgasmic bliss! To become more present, just focus on the breath and the physical sensations in the body. If your mind wanders away, gently bring it back again and again to the present moment. Embrace the sensory experience fully.
Oh, and don’t forget to enjoy the journey!
Do you have any juicy foreplay tips I’ve missed?
I’d love to hear them, feel free to tell me in the comments below.
“He wasn’t the type for displays of affection, either verbal or not. He was disgusted by couples that made out in the hallways between classes and got annoyed at even the slightest sappy moments in movies. But I knew he cared about me: he just conveyed it more subtly, as concise with expressing this emotion as he was with everything else. It was in the way he’d put his hand on the small of my back, for instance, or how he’d smile at me when I said something that surprised him. Once I might have wanted more, but I’d come around to his way of thinking in the time we’d been together. And we were together, all the time. So he didn’t have to prove how he felt about me. Like so much else, I should just know.”
― Sarah Dessen,
“There’s a phrase, “the elephant in the living room”, which purports to describe what it’s like to live with a drug addict, an alcoholic, an abuser. People outside such relationships will sometimes ask, “How could you let such a business go on for so many years? Didn’t you see the elephant in the living room?” And it’s so hard for anyone living in a more normal situation to understand the answer that comes closest to the truth; “I’m sorry, but it was there when I moved in. I didn’t know it was an elephant; I thought it was part of the furniture.” There comes an aha-moment for some folks – the lucky ones – when they suddenly recognize the difference.”
― Stephen King
Let me just first erase the thought in your mind that I am mad on you. No, I am not. In fact, I am glad he ended up being with you. Even though I don’t know you that much, I know you’ve got all the attributes that he likes. That is the very reason why he chose you over me.
You are very lucky for having him. He is a treasure, a rare one. He is sometimes naughty but let him be. He is just about to cuddle you. He is as sweet as candies, he is lovely as the day goes by, he is patient, my dear. He is ready to understand everything you demand… He is an ear to your nonsense dramas. He is a shoulder to cry on in pains. He is somehow quiet, but he’ll be the noisiest man on earth when saying how much he loves you. He is a man of few words, but a man with one word. He knows how to keep his promises… That’s why I am thinking: why he left me? He won’t just be your boyfriend, but your friend, the very best one, your knight in shining armor, your superman, your living diary, your handkerchief. He is a complete package.
But most of all, he will be your man. Strong enough to hold you, dauntless to fight for you, you’ll be his kryptonite.
Take care of him, sweetheart. I may have caused him so much pain, I may have caused him so much ache but I have loved him above all. Don’t worry, I know I am not his happiness now. And if happy is not me, I have to let him go…
Things just didn’t work out on us. I do hope in the two of you will. And it might kill me watching your hearts collide, but I’ll wholeheartedly accept.
Keep him for he is for keeps. Take care of him for he’s too much vulnerable. Be patient with him for he is a child at heart.
Listen to him for all he wants is a good listener for he knows how to do it. And lastly, love him as much as you can. Don’t you ever give up on him. Love him in the most possible way. Love him because that is what he deserves, love him because you love him.
Words by: Hannah Eunice Villamin
“Has someone ever told you that you are too difficult to love?” She poured herself another mug of lukewarm coffee. I sat on the grey sofa reading Sputnik Sweetheart by Murakami. She sat right beside and clasped the end of her dotted skirt. “People have left me for it. I don’t blame them, though. On most days, loving me is a task.” After saying, she took the book from my hand. She inhaled the scent of the pages. “Isn’t Sputnik the name of the first artificial satellite?” I nodded. “So, you don’t hold it against those people?” I asked without meeting her gaze. From a distance, I could hear the sound of a Ferris wheel. “Not really.” Her voice brought me back. “Don’t all relations disappoint in the end? I mean everyone leaves. Sooner or later, people see the blemishes. The imperfections overwhelm them. Staying will mean accepting and efforts. Few are ready to do it.” She fiddled with her hair as I devoured another cigarette. “So, you don’t just believe in love, then?” She gazed into my eyes and paused as if to frame her words carefully. “I do. I just find people who are as difficult to love. In that way, the struggle to love becomes the entire point.” She tapped a button on remote and filled the room with music, rhythms, and sound. I read Murakami while she gazed into nowhere thinking about loss, love, and how lonely must those satellites feel when they quietly stroll through the sky.
~ hardik nagar The Honest Musing
The story of how one t-shirt makes me feel
All I have left of you is one t-shirt.
I deleted all your texts and erased you from social media. I even threw away an odd sock I found of yours, black with an orange toe and heel.
This one t-shirt that I can barely bring myself to look at, let alone wear, crops up in my washing every now and again. It is so foreign to me, so infinitesimally you that I cannot wear it and feel at home. I do not recognize it. Maybe that is because I never felt at home with you. Never felt comfortable in my own skin. Always brittle, on edge, ready to snap and break in your presence. To shut down and shut you out.
This one t-shirt is all I have left to remind me of you. When I close my eyes and try to conjure your image up I cannot. I can only see small details. Your red curls, your ice blue eyes, the freckle on the pinkie of your left hand – the one I only noticed the day we walked away from each other. I remember the gap in your teeth, that funny tight smile and the way you used to say my name, hold my hand, stroke my face. But you as a whole/the person I thought I knew? That I cannot see.
This t-shirt is all I have left to remind me of the darkest five months of my life. The hardest, most painful, jagged and scarring thing I have ever endured. Five months of stretching and snapping. Five months of seeing how happy we could have been and five months of being miserable. Five months of wanting to let go and love and not being able to. Five months of pushing you away and wanting to hold you close. This t-shirt is a memento of my failure. Of my loss. Of you.
When I wear this t-shirt and people comment on it – they say ‘that suits you’ or ‘i haven’t seen you in that before’ or why don’t you wear it more often?’ And the words to tell them why I do not wear it catch it my throat. I say – it is not mine.
I can never bring myself to say that it is yours.
― Alice Nicolov
If I were to kill myself tonight I would do it to get into hell
And from that eternal consuming state
I’d wander 3,000 feet below your toes
And that, to me
Is the apotheosis of everything I couldn’t say
Because you weren’t ready to hear it
Or maybe because I fear rejection
And showing nothing means feeling nothing
I wish I could mutter the words
To bring you back
To have you crawling from under my bed
And finally, realize you were the monster in my head
The idyll in my dreams
The reason I’ve turned into an insomniac sleepwalker
A wrecked lifeless being
Who later took this nothingness and despair
And transformed it into poetry
With which I hoped I could make you mine
And force you to remain in our realm
Built on demons and sleepless nights
And inner peace
To get by.
“Six degrees of separation” by Vlada Bunescu
Things of importance,
Are always in twos I presume.
Moments shared with you
Are always lived twice.
Once what angered me
I laugh at it and rejoice
And then I remember
The rainy December
We’d laughed till we got
Now I looked back at that time and cried.
I live my every moment with you
In two alternating shades
Once with you
And then again
As your presence fades.
— “Pairs” by Iqra Aslam
Someone asked me if I am over you, I just smiled. I have always ached every time I realize it’s you, and it will always be you. The idea of me loving someone else is a blur right now.
As much as I wanted to say, “I am over him, I don’t care anymore,” and mean it, I can’t, because I care. Even if you happen to stumble on my way ten or fifteen years from now, I still and always care.
A lot of people misunderstand this concept of moving on and say you won’t care about the past if you’re truly over it. For me, it doesn’t work that way.
Moving on for me is merely accepting what happened, with no regret for what will never be. And for a person who loves too much, I can truthfully say that one can never really get over someone who once meant the world to them. We can just get used to the pain and feeling of missing someone until we make ourselves comfortable in it, and I believe that a tiny spark of hope can always reborn what we thought is already dead– love.
It’s been two years since everything ended but I can still remember the vast happiness I had when I was with you, and I just want to say that I miss you.
I miss those moments when we glance at each other and smile because we both know words are not enough to explain what we feel. Even if every day I am dying to feel these all again, all I could do is sit here, try to be happy for you, and pour out all my feelings by writing about you.
Love, if ever the time comes when you remember me and come back, just know that I am always here, waiting.
However, love, if the time comes when you come back and see me loving someone else, just know that it took me too much courage to open my heart to another guy again after what I’ve been through for you, for us. If you happen to realize that he could have been you, just keep in mind that my heart, no matter how much it endures every pain for you, it gives up.
I know I’ll be in love again. But for now, I’ll continue holding on to what you said, “If we are meant to be, love will lead us back.”
You see, I don’t believe in destiny and such things as “meant-to-bes” for I know that only our own choices influence what happens in our life. But you, you made me believe in dreams and fantasies.
But I guess it’s time to wake up.
I’ll smile for you again because I know that one day, I’ll be seeing you.
Until then, I will be missing you.
I am not asking for you to come back. I see you are very happy now and it somehow eases the feeling of longing for your presence, for your happiness is my delight, even if I am not a part of it.
Written by Tin Sarmienta via Berlin ArtParasites
A daily selection of the best content published on WordPress, collected for you by humans who love to read.
Learning and teaching the art of composition.
My words will either attract a strong mind or offend a weak one.
The latest news on WordPress.com and the WordPress community.
Celebrating gardens, nature, photography and a creative life
The Art and Craft of Blogging
I'm Michelle. This is my blog. I write about women and fatness, expound upon semi-coherent thoughts I have in the middle of the night, and offer tough love to those in whom I am disappointed; they are legion.
Creative and technical writing, design and translation services
Life Through The Lens
Students Serving Up WordPress Tips and Techniques for Clark College Students and the World
Author, Blogger, Social Media Jedi
Sharing writing tips, information, and advice.
Writing Guides, Fiction, and More