to my sexuality? I was always flirtatious when I was younger. But, during the last few years of my marriage, I seemed to only think about balancing the checkbook, planning my teaching lessons and food shopping. My whole life just seemed to be preparing for something else. But what was the point of always preparing? It was only getting ready for something else I didn't really want to do. Would I always be trying to "get ready" and never actually live? Even during the weekends I was not "living". I was thinking about the lunch to pack on Monday, calls I had to return and supplies needed to supplement the classroom due to budget cuts. Each day had so many requirements just to live. I was choking with all that needed to be done from pumping gas to paying the electric bill to picking up my dry cleaning. I felt that I was missing out on the deep bliss I knew I could feel with a man.
I enjoy teaching third grade, but feared I would always stay single and end up like Mrs. Stone. Mrs. Stone taught fifth grade and had also divorced in her twenties. She was now fifty two and she has not found another significant relationship. On the weekends she'd meet her best friend for dinner at the Olive Garden or a different Italian restaurant on Friday nights. On Saturday nights Mrs. Stone would go to the movies, play or concert with a second friend that was widowed. It wasn't a completely empty life, but there was something dead about it to me. Was that going to be my future? Would I just be pretending to enjoy myself while yearning for a real man?
During the lunch break Wednesday at the school where I teach, I had a recollection that I had forgotten about for years. In the summer before 9th grade, I was changing to a new school. I begged my mom to let me wear one of the dresses we bought in early August in preparation for the new semester because we were going to a party for my cousin's birthday. I felt great in this dress and my confidence was so high. My cousin's neighbor, Steven, who was around 18 or 19 years old checked me out and I liked knowing that I had some power over a guy. I was shy, but I kept physically placing my body near his so that he'd see my budding breasts and smell my shampoo.
I asked Steven to explain a news story that was on my phone which was over my head. I knew my strength was in having a man feel his own strength and my dependency on him. And I was really soft and helpless inside, even though I also manipulated things. I liked my femininity and the way that he was in a teacher mode. We only saw each other that one time, but I fantasized that night mentally about him in my bed. I was too afraid to touch my own body. I didn't want my mom to abruptly come into my room and catch me. She had the habit of just bursting into my room to tell me something. But it was still erotic to me to go into the fantasy mentally, though my fingers were too shy to move.
I pictured myself asking Steven to explain how to change a flat tire. I knew that he had just done that on his own car. He told me that you have to first lift the car up with a jack and then loosen the lug nuts with a wrench. I asked him if I would have the strength to do that. He then squeeze my bicep muscles to test them. As he did that, I felt a little pulse in my clitoris. It was so warm and I was craving for his touch. I imagined him telling me that my arms could be too weak to turn the wrench. Then I felt his hands graze across my sweater and touch my small breasts. I felt myself lean towards him as I yearned for his hands to cup my breasts. He stroked my right cheek with his index finger and gently kissed my lips as he firmly touched my breasts through my dress. He was experienced with cars and I knew he'd understand my body in the same way. I also knew that boys my own age would just fumble around with the female body and be too childish. "Did you take my black shirt again?" My mom had burst into my room and my fantasy ended abruptly. I was startled by
I enjoy teaching third grade, but feared I would always stay single and end up like Mrs. Stone. Mrs. Stone taught fifth grade and had also divorced in her twenties. She was now fifty two and she has not found another significant relationship. On the weekends she'd meet her best friend for dinner at the Olive Garden or a different Italian restaurant on Friday nights. On Saturday nights Mrs. Stone would go to the movies, play or concert with a second friend that was widowed. It wasn't a completely empty life, but there was something dead about it to me. Was that going to be my future? Would I just be pretending to enjoy myself while yearning for a real man?
During the lunch break Wednesday at the school where I teach, I had a recollection that I had forgotten about for years. In the summer before 9th grade, I was changing to a new school. I begged my mom to let me wear one of the dresses we bought in early August in preparation for the new semester because we were going to a party for my cousin's birthday. I felt great in this dress and my confidence was so high. My cousin's neighbor, Steven, who was around 18 or 19 years old checked me out and I liked knowing that I had some power over a guy. I was shy, but I kept physically placing my body near his so that he'd see my budding breasts and smell my shampoo.
I asked Steven to explain a news story that was on my phone which was over my head. I knew my strength was in having a man feel his own strength and my dependency on him. And I was really soft and helpless inside, even though I also manipulated things. I liked my femininity and the way that he was in a teacher mode. We only saw each other that one time, but I fantasized that night mentally about him in my bed. I was too afraid to touch my own body. I didn't want my mom to abruptly come into my room and catch me. She had the habit of just bursting into my room to tell me something. But it was still erotic to me to go into the fantasy mentally, though my fingers were too shy to move.
I pictured myself asking Steven to explain how to change a flat tire. I knew that he had just done that on his own car. He told me that you have to first lift the car up with a jack and then loosen the lug nuts with a wrench. I asked him if I would have the strength to do that. He then squeeze my bicep muscles to test them. As he did that, I felt a little pulse in my clitoris. It was so warm and I was craving for his touch. I imagined him telling me that my arms could be too weak to turn the wrench. Then I felt his hands graze across my sweater and touch my small breasts. I felt myself lean towards him as I yearned for his hands to cup my breasts. He stroked my right cheek with his index finger and gently kissed my lips as he firmly touched my breasts through my dress. He was experienced with cars and I knew he'd understand my body in the same way. I also knew that boys my own age would just fumble around with the female body and be too childish. "Did you take my black shirt again?" My mom had burst into my room and my fantasy ended abruptly. I was startled by