FINALLY! After more than 3 years starting working on a script!

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My first marriage only happened because I wasn’t a virgin. It was thirty years before I realized that I had been raped.  In 1969, I had just arrived at Ohio University, 200 miles from my home and my crazy mother. My first….what to call him? Not lover…because there was no love…my gynecological surgical tool…was a cute Sophomore who played guitar in a tacky local band, and the first of many tall, skinny ‘artists’ I was a sucker for. Bob invited me to his dorm room. I’d like to give you more details, but as I walked in, he closed the door, threw me down on the bed, pulled my clothes off…and raped me. About as seductive as a truck wandering onto a railroad crossing and being hit by the locomotive.

And ever the good host, Bob stood up angry and threw me out of his room shrieking.  “You didn’t enjoy it!” Bear in mind, he felt that he had no hand, as it were, in my pleasure. He had not inquired as to whether or not it was my first time. He felt that the very presence of his male member should be all a woman needed for enjoyment. I had no idea what was going on and it was a bit too painful to be “enjoyed”.

Granted, it was 1969, and although the sexual revolution had begun on the East Coast, it was still 1927 in Ohio’s mind. So, being that I did not yet know what Feminism was. I simply left his room, as he demanded, and went back to my dorm and never heard from him again. And if you want to know why I do not mention blood…he left the condom in and I didn’t know it was there till it fell out two weeks later. (Thankfully, after I had returned to campus from Spring break. Try explaining THAT to your Mother.)

So ergo, Eddie, my first husband was the virgin when I went to Atlantic City for a summer job and met him. Eddie was dating a female virgin at the time. (Of course, I didn’t find that out till later) She was a nice Jewish girl who would have been perfect for him, except he was more of a gentleman than my first…experience…and whenever they tried to have sex, she stopped it at the first sign of pain. (Oh, Sweetie…if only you had just gritted your teeth and let it happen, how different all three of our lives would have been.) This had gone on for quite some time by the time he met me and of course, I didn’t know about her when we started dating. I was far from perfect for him but it was possible to have sex with me because there was no barrier to the act. And being an idiot who knew nothing about such things, there was also no pleasure in our sex, but at least he didn’t get angry at me. Like I said, it was before Feminism.

However, I had to return to Ohio from the summer job and Eddie and I parted ways, hopefully to never to see him again. Well, he showed at Ohio University two months later. I thought it meant love but I later found out, it was just about having sex. Not great sex, but at least I didn’t stop him every time as she had continued to do.

So why did I marry him? I was shy and weak and anxious for what seemed to be love. After that marriage ended, all of my romances, and my second marriage were also about sex. After I divorced Eddie, I learned more about sex and had much fun with it, but never met a man who didn’t think he could do better than me. Still, there is a happy ending to this tale. I read an Ohio newspaper and there was the joyous news that Bob had died of a heroin overdose.  Karma. It’s a bitch. And now, so am I.

GRANDMA TRIES TO WRAP IT UP

You like to think that you are good with words
That you’ll find the ones that will solve it all
But emotions make them scatter like birds
Leaving you silent as a broken doll
Right now I can’t even find a good rhyme
To make the poems that fulfill my dreams
I’m so old that I’m running out of time
And this sonnet sounds like belches and screams
At least boredom has motivated me
To try and strangle my dusty daydreams
I am not the she nor are you the he
So no more romance, I will write elsewise
And leave younger broads to praise the cute guys
SBR 7.7.14

TMI

Before I was liberated by menopause, I estimate that I had sex approximately 1,500 times. I was fortunate to come of age in the midst of the sexual revolution. I am retired, but I do have some advice for men.

1.            Yes, you should love your penis, but your love life will be less rocky if you don’t act like it’s the only one available on Earth. Chances are it is NOT going to be the only one ever offered to your woman, so don’t act like it is. And if you think it is the largest one available, you never met my second husband.

2.            That said, remember no truer words were ever spoke than: “It’s not the size of the boat but the motion of the ocean.” (I am reminded of the Jeff Foxworthy joke: “But it takes a dinghy a whole lot longer to get to England than a steamship.”) HOWEVER, Love also helps the result.

3.            Porn movies mostly teach men to beg their girlfriends to try new things with disastrous results.

4.            Believe it or not, you did not invent oral sex and there will be other men who know how it works. And for the love of GOD, don’t talk about it…just do it!

5.            Women have more intense orgasms than men because our time is limited. After menopause, we are freed of needing them constantly and can concentrate on our gardening and grandchildren. However, remember that we still enjoy sex. It will be more fun with the woman next to you in bed than it will be trying to earn the money a younger wife will cost. .

6.            A man who doesn’t learn to control the constant craving is not going to give the attention to the career he will need to get rich in to afford the young women he craves. Catch 22 can be so amusing.

7.            You can be the most skillful lover on Earth and give the greatest orgasms but we will STILL dump you if you are mean or act like an idiot. This is why God made vibrators.

8.            There are 6,000,000 more women than men in America. Chances are we are going to end up alone and we must be financially and emotionally prepared for it. Statistics prove that women need a TON more money than men to buy a man, so chances are it won’t help us. This is why God made chocolate.

It's All Right

Sonnet on Spending too Much Time on Facebook

Sonnet on Spending too Much Time on Facebook

I want to meet living breathing people

Not just upon the Facebook’s icy page

Talk occurs beneath my church’s steeple

But the rest of Earth leaves me in a rage

Thine headphones seal off earholes in the gym

Or upon thine cell phone thou dost natter

Walking or seated with a visage grim

Sternly bearing your teenager’s chatter

Neighbors stand behind closed doors as you pass

Trying to avoid the hallway face to face

You’re home all day as they laid off your ass

And the hot men no longer give you chase

With a sigh, back you log on to FB

Hoping that your life will be less MT

I Forgot 97 so THIS is the real 100th Sonnet

Number 100 The Last Sonnet

Sonnet one hundred is eluding me

I’d like to end the whole thing with a bang

I never found the rhythm or the key

My lady doth confess they never sang

Will did have his mystery dark lady

But aging broads are dismissed as stalkers

Regarded more as Sad Sack than Miss Sadie

Unsexed by their medicine and walkers

Still, there are proud moments to remember

And gave to me respect for poet’s muse

Apt it is to end it in December

And while we still can do it without booze

And thus I end my farting with this biz

The final sonnet and Whoot! Here it is!

A Novel Idea -- Roxy's Lost Years Inspired by 'Amour Americain'

Day One Year One: I Am Reborn

I open my eyes and still I am in darkness. Slowly, shapes and dots of light reveal themselves. White and silver on a canvas of ebony black. I realize that I am breathing hard, with cold air ripping through my lungs. Some THING rattles by and I do not know if it is a rat or an autumn leaf. The poem! Find the poem! Reach into my coat to touch the envelope and I smile, I can breathe again. I remember that, despite losing everything, all of my worldly goods, that I am loved by God and one woman. There is nothing more a man needs in this world. Nothing!

However, it is dangerous in this alley at two o’clock in the morning when even the sounds of taxis and the number 6 train are rare and there are strange and desperate men like myself moving through the empty streets. I shiver from the chill as I only had a moment when I realized that the men were coming up my stairs and I only had seconds to decide on what I could grab before being dragged out and cast into the street by the goons…no! No, Robert, don’t do that to them and yourself…by the men send to clear me out of my home.

Of course I made sure the poem was safe against my heart and then I went to my easel and found my oldest and dearest friend: a camel’s hair brush that I have been using since college; and slid that into my backpack. No time or room for canvas or color except for a new tube of crimson red that had yet to have its mouth unstopped. Unstopped. Strange word to use right now. The poetesses in my life have left their mark.