Unintentional Radiator

The sexual adventures of a newly divorced woman.

Tiger gets a go.

I can’t remember when I had sex with Tiger but it was some months ago. He had been texting me for a long time now often daily, 5 times a day. Most of the time I didn’t respond and that didn’t seem to matter to him. Tiger didn’t have a position in the rotation. He loved to send me animated gifs of people having kinky sex. The other day, somewhere in the middle of one of his ceaseless streams of sexts he told me his name.

I can never predict the details that provoke a change of heart for me. Knowing his real name did something and after all, it was a marvelous name. I finally wrote back. He had told me he wanted to “pour red wine over my pussy and then drink it.”

Easy Tiger.

I agreed to meet him out. Tiger was tall and slim and well dressed. He had a tweed John Dory on, long legs and a beautiful face. So this was how he got his foot in the door the first time.
He was serious. He talked about his work. He told me about the decline of his relationship and his kid. He didn’t like that his babymama had gone out drinking with friends till all hours.
Apparently it “wasn’t right.” He then told me about a friend at his work who started screwing the cleaning lady. He pissed into a bowl and got her to lap it up like a dog, videotaping the whole thing and then showing his colleagues.

This was not the shocker for Tigs.

The shocker was that he then asked her to move in. According to Tiger, this wasn’t right either. I was compelled to set him straight on a few things and did.

It was his work buddy who was an ass and we all know being a freak in the sack doesn’t mean you don’t get to meet the parents.

Turns out Tiger has some pretty strange ideas. I was rearranging the roster in my head.

We went back to my place for a drink. Tigs had his shoes off and his pants undone before I even sat down. He was keen, that was certain. He started bossing me around straight away but he asked me things too.

It went something like this “get on your knees and suck my cock….. Can I videotape you?”
Hell no!
“Daddy wants to fuck you in your ass.”
“Then will you eat my ass?”
Why sure!
And so it went on, moving from one activity to another. We fucked on every surface in my living room.

Tiger was a natural pervert. This wasn’t what I found peculiar; he wore a crucifix around his neck and when he was on top I had to turn it around so that it was on his back and I didn’t have to look at it. Also, he wanted the lights off, like a teenager.

I laughed out loud at his enthusiasm more than once. I wanted to take him to the park and let him run around a little, throw the tennis ball out there.

He was also rough. Like last time he hauled me about a bit and took me to the brink.

Finally he asked if he could go up to my bed. I said no but he was very persistent. I should have been a bit firmer and smacked his nose. I like to keep my bed to myself. Instead I relented.

Goodness did he keep going! I was getting tired so I climaxed and rolled out from under him. I was laughing. He told me he should not have drunk so much and he was beating his cock pretty furiously. He asked me to put on some porn and I said no. After all, he had a real live girl right there.

I went downstairs, pootled about a bit and poured myself a glass of wine. I had gotten what I wanted and I was ready to end the night. When I got back he was still going.

“Daddy want to stick it inside you.”
He was Caribbean and had told me many times how much he “liked my white pussy.” So daddy had some white pussy and I told him dirty stories, filthy ones. Turns out that’s his jam. He was delighted and finished pretty quickly.

Well done Tiger.

He leapt off the bed and had a shower. He asked for a clean towel. No stink on this guy. His ass however, was all over my face.

As soon as he left I went to the bathroom and cleaned myself up. I saw a large mark on my leg, exactly hand shaped. There was blood on my bedding. Where had that come from?

The next day my leg looked pretty bad. Plus my ass was sore. Untouchable. Right then I knew it was the bruising I didn’t like. I didn’t want colorful records of achievement, I wanted to set it and forget it.

I was supposed to be seeing the English guy the next night. English was dtf in a big way and it was a little off putting. I didn’t know what I wanted from him but going to Williamsburg to get it might be a deal breaker.
For now I wanted to snuggle in with my boys in my bed.

I’d have to change the sheets first.


P and the Sailor: The Dominican #3

He came to NYC from Miami. I had been looking forward to seeing him. Then, I never take anything for granted. I had no idea what to expect.

I met P’s new love, the Sailor on Friday night. P is not the type of woman that has an empty dance card and when they come in they are rushing the gates. The unexpected ingredient that night was her. She was a girl anew, her face became round and open when she was with him and HE: he wanted me to tell him everything about her. The Sailor was thinking of staying in New York for her and I understood. I could warm my hands by them when they were together. I saw the stroppy arms that I know so well throw themselves around his neck and I felt happy. When you love someone, you thrive when they do. What could I say to the Sailor? I loved her. I love her. As much as I’ve been told I’m “like a dude” in this respect, I still believe in falling hard and fast and I wanted it for them. For her.

I met The Dominican after being with those two. It was a throat cutting contrast. I had left the door open unintentionally, P, the Sailor and I had just been on the stoop and I must have had it open for the cool breeze. When I got his call he was inside the apartment. I hadn’t seen him for so long it was strange to suddenly find him right next to me. We embraced and it felt right. He was gorgeous. I need to qualify this: the thing I like most is that he knows who he is.

However, I don’t know him at all.
We kissed straight away and it was glorious. As a matter of fact, I never thought I’d see him again so I still found it bizarre to have him in my presence. So this: this was nice. Better than expected.

Before long we were taking off our clothes and having sex on the couch. I loved the feeling of his body and he seemed to be completely comfortable in this way with me. He fucked me hard but tenderly. This is what I liked about TD, he brings something extra to the table, something I’m unfamiliar with. When we are together it feels like we’re taking what belongs to us and it’s easy. He speaks to me in Spanish when we’re at it and it’s thrilling for me. His voice is very different then, softer.

After he asked again if I would be “his girlfriend” – hmmmm. He asked if I’d meet his family: That was a real yes. Meeting other people is all fine by me.
Then, a little while later he asked if we could go upstairs to bed. This was TD’s way of getting me in the sack so to speak.

This time it was very different. He took me from behind and pulled my hair a little, choked me a little, smacked my bottom. It was great. I didn’t know he could or would do that and I was pleased. Still, it was the kisses I loved and I missed them.

Afterward he fell asleep and didn’t touch me again. That’s all fine but he did this funny thing with his feet where he jiggled them back and forth as if he were doing the shuffle. At one point I gently put my hand on his chest and asked quietly if he was ok? But he was dead to the world.

I was jealous. I wish I could sleep like that. As I was getting to know him I could see a frenetic energy that was the silt holding his clay together.

I woke early as is my way and ran errands: tidied up, went to the bank, got a manicure, normal stuff for a Brooklyn girl. I brought him a coffee and was pleased to see him showered and up and about.

We sat on the couch for the brief moment he was inactive. He seemed worried about how I felt. I was tired but also, I didn’t like all the lip service about being a girlfriend or meeting parents when there was clearly no shit to back it up. I hadn’t indicated I wanted it so why press me on it? He asked me if I still liked him and if I had a good time with him. Why all the questions? This was far too much chin music for me. I liked how things were as they stood and this started to feel like a game I knew and I hate that game: The one where someone seeks validation only to serve themselves. Genuine vulnerability I understand, live in even but this was different.

Yeah, I really didn’t understand TD. And of course, even though promises were made I didn’t see him for the rest of the weekend. I saw Hank instead and he left marks of a different kind but more about that later.

The Bartender, Marvin and The Baby

I had started working in LIC. It was a decent job as far as things go but I hated it. Sometime in my second week I found my local bar. The Bartender honed in like a missile;

– I love that dress but all I want to do is take it off you


That week the radiator was at full volume. A man followed me down the street, people were yelling out of cars, someone sat next to me on the subway and told me I “defined beautiful.”

I had been out of sync though. Off kilter. The Lesbian had sent me a song:

Seatbelt Hands

I understand that we are all swimming around in the soup interpreting this bizarre experience in our own way but he really blindsided me with this one. Was that how men saw me? I felt scared. It wasn’t sexy. I wasn’t sexy in that role. It stuck with me.

The Bartender had been coming on strong and I really wasn’t feeling it in return. He was leaving for another job and wanted me to have a drink with him on his last day. I wanted to hang out with P but she was home with her sick daughter.

What the hell?

We went to a bar in Astoria. Definitely not my kind of bar. A sports bar, a theme pub. He was always on his phone and he checked out every chick as she walked by us. Fair enough. I wasn’t particularly attracted to him so why criticize? Then a woman who works on my floor and her boyfriend came in. I didn’t know her name. She was in another department. She was damaged goods. She had rotting teeth and she was an oversharer, the way lonely people are. But The Bartender knew her and her man and they loved him. I have to say right here that recently, it’s been pointed out to me by JnoK and J-k that I attract crazies. This might be true but I had a soft spot for teeth and her construction man. She was red raw like a skinned cat. I always feel that I could have been like that if I played my hand differently but that’s another story. The Bartender was kind to them. That was the moment I knew I’d spend more than the next 20 mins in his company. We took a cab back to my place. He did all of the things I would normally do: we only had sex on the couch, he rushed in too quickly. He told me he had to go before he even had his cock back in his trousers. Plus the sex was, well. Ok. Suddenly, I felt a strange pang

-you’re not going to stay the night?

It’s as if I was channeling someone other woman from a romcom. My goodness, I wasn’t even sure if I liked this fellow! I didn’t know what had come over me but I knew it meant one thing: I wanted more. More of what I wasn’t sure. It was a mild buzzing in the background that had no tone yet.

I was due to see Marvin the next day. I had been to bed late and had 2-3 hours sleep. I went down for a nap and woke to a text. Holy shit, I had meant to be at Marvin’s at 3:30 and it was already 4:30. He was a little cross and it was understandable. So far, Marvin had just been tossed into the salad of lovers and randoms. He was reliably good though and always kind. There was also the fact that he was extraordinarily good looking. His smile could pull me across the room. It was his hands though: the size of dinner plates; fingers striped like tigers and always, always warm. Plus, he was big. I liked that. He treated me to a lovely orgasm and told me it was ok to get closer. He’d said this before but I couldn’t hear it. For some reason, in this moment the timing was right and for the first time I thought I could do this.

I saw H immediately after that at Webster Hall. She wanted to see Atlas Sound and she was in love. To see her in this way, watching her watching him and I wanted to kiss her face. To think, to know that there are things that mean so much to someone, it was refreshing. She was effervescent, touching everyone around her and her energy was a pulsing beacon. We all loved her. Before the end of the night we made 10 new friends. In particular there was one young man from the South who was here visiting a friend and studying Recreational Therapy. He had experienced a serious brain injury recently. Had been in a coma for many months and had several operations. He spoke slowly, his words were considered. He struggled to form them. Now, he wanted to practice the thing that “saved his life.” If I could have put him in my pocket and taken him home I would have. He smelled like flowers, he was daggy. He was a real human.

I had promised Marvin we would go to where he worked. H and I took a cab.

– Which one is this?

– The big black guy. Marvin. I think you’ll like him.

And she did. If you don’t get along with H there’s something wrong with you. So obviously, Marvin liked her too. This was the first time I had introduced a lover to any of my friends and I was tredpidous. I liked to keep my men away from the people I cared about. Earlier that day Marvin told me “You’re so beautiful but you’re so confused.” I told H that M and I had been knocking boots for at least 6 months now and she reminded me that it was ok to put ‘buddy’ back into fuck buddy. So, Now that my separate worlds were coming together and we were all ok I was feeling some relief. I was ready to spend more time with Marvin.

The place he worked was strange. There were a lot of rich kids there. We were making Gossip Girl jokes all night. Many people came and talked to us but we felt outside of it all somehow. Not superior, just anthropologists running commentary on the species we were surrounded by. Just as we were leaving H and I were separated. Our phones were dead and I walked out into the Manhattan streets and looked for a subway. Normally, I would use my phone but I was at a loss: I stopped a man and asked if he could guide me to the nearest subway.

– I’m going there. Walk with me.

Perfect. Except he was so fast I was almost running to follow him. In my heels, I tripped on the subway stairs and he picked me up. I felt goofy, drunk, ungraceful. I didn’t care.

– I’ve lead you astray, this isn’t the right train for us. Let’s get a cab.

No worries there. When in the car he touched my shoulder, I looked at him and we started kissing. It was hot. He was touching me in places and I could feel his hard on. We went to his place and in his room. He had a bare mattress on the floor, he rolled a joint and we smoked it. We fucked. Afterward, He said

– Guess how old I am?



– 37?

-wrong way…..23

-Well, you fuck well for a 23 year old!

He was chuffed. I normally don’t do young guys because they’re shit in the sack but he was quite good really. I asked him if he remembered my name. Of course he didn’t but it was all ok because I didn’t remember his name and told him so. We laughed, I put my clothes on and left. I’d never see him again.

Still that night, Marvin came over after work and I told him about the young guy. He loved it. We had sex and he loved me the way a real man does. I loved that he did. There was someone that could be with me for who I am. Or I hoped so. I couldn’t imagine someone saying ‘just how you are is ok.’ But he was saying it and just now, I wanted it. I slept in his arms. I smelled his skin, I woke and looked at his ‘self’ for a moment. He was beautiful. Heavy, strong, otherworldy. He was a behemoth, a new barge making it’s way through my rocky seas. Slowly, my ice was splintering, letting him come through. It hurt a little but I trusted him, perhaps it would be ok? I thought of him on that day as “my” Marvin; just like H was my girl and P was my wife. He had done it perfectly, taking my hand gently, pulling me back to life. Without trying to take something from me or getting angry with me for being unable to give more than I can. I was putting ‘buddy’ back into fuck buddy and I knew there was no better vehicle than Marvin.

Continue reading “The Bartender, Marvin and The Baby”

I’m like a dude with a vagina

The Dominican had left at around 12 and I was left to my own devices in my apartment.

I walked around a bit, tried to do some work and then took a call on my stoop from F. Toward the end of my conversation with her my neighbor, A arrived. I was pleased to see him. A and I are easy peasy with a conversational flow that simply works. He is like bathwater at the perfect temperature, I just slip in and it feels natural. He’s skin temperature.

To’ing and fro’ing about this and that I illustrated my recent love life: The Roast and The Beach Bum had gone badly wrong. Recently, I had avoided thinking about any reason for all this chaos but as soon as I hit skin temperature it poured out. They were crazy. Like, crazy “in love” with me so soon, so heavy, but really, they were crazy. The short time I spent with them had ended with shouting and name calling. On their part, not mine. I hadn’t really figured it out until A made a joke about it.

I can’t keep track of them all because you have 3 names for them

Neither can I

That’s why they’re so cross with you


You’re like a dude

It wasn’t the first time I’d heard it.

I’m not proud of it, I’m not glorifying in it; I just don’t care about it. It seems as though guarding the contents had become a full time occupation and now a lifestyle choice.

How sad. Or was it?

Hank walked by and didn’t even make eye contact. He was still cross with me for ditching him for The Dominican the night before. A new co conspirator; I pointed this out to A who, at first confused him for the Roast and then Marvin.



We looked at each other.

I’m like a dude with a vagina

There are worse things

And that was true.


The Roast

I met The Roast on Tinder.

Of course, it all started with a quip. After a short hiatus I was back on Tinder and this time I decided to let loose in messaging. He was good looking (but then, they all think they are. You’ve got to have some mojo to put your picture up on Tinder). That wasn’t it though, it never is with me. He was a chef and knew how rock and roll in the kitchen. It became a great pleasure for me to hear what he had been cooking. Like any good food porn it’s all in the details…

Seared pork belly: skin side down to render the fat and crisp the skin (with a flour and pho paste coating). Flipped then braised in a red wine and white miso liquid for five hours. Cooled overnight then pressed the next day; gently reheated in the wine/miso reduction and rested on it’s side with a touch of brown sugar. Kissed with lemon juice and eaten with quail eggs and dry toast.

I couldn’t resist.
Also, he sounded just like Ed Burns, like an old school tough guy he had old fashioned ways, he’d had his fair share of fist fights, he called me “honey, sweetheart, cutie pie,” he yearned to be understood. This felt unfamiliar and known at the same time. I felt like a woman in his company and he was most definitely a man’s man. There was something extra though which I couldn’t place. A vulnerability or loneliness perhaps. Or had I invented that? I could see all of his soft spots. Not because he showed them to me, he had developed a great way of shielding himself and it was beautiful to watch. Reassuring even.

We spent hours on the phone. We were throwing ourselves head first into the discovery process and each time I wanted to pull back he gently reminded me that all we were doing was having a good time. Hell, I hadn’t even met him yet so what was there to worry about? He was like N. Never too much, always giving me a long lead.

Meeting you is like being alone in the woods and discovering one of your own species for the first time. I just want to look at your face and sniff your butt.

And it was. TR was complex, special, a little scary. Struggling to contextualize himself in the world he had fought hard but he was all heart. I wanted to pat his strong back and watch him run in the paddock. I wanted him to lay his head in my lap, I wanted something I didn’t know the name of and I wondered if it could be called friendship. I was going to find out soon enough.


Hank. Hanky Panky.

I had seen Hank several more times and last weekend we were due for another round.

Continue reading “Hank. Hanky Panky.”

The Dominican #2

I was going to see TD again the following Friday.

I had finished my writing assignments pushing a deadline, stealing the only time I had to work. He was running a bit late but it didn’t matter to me. It was nice to have some rare time alone. I bought some flowers, drank some wine, put on some music and pootled around the apartment, writing a bit more here and there.

After he arrived we settled on the couch. TD was mellow, more relaxed than the last time I saw him (not inexplicable). My head had been full all day and I was a bit wonky intellectually. It was as if I’d finished working and had allowed my brain to go on vacation, just for a little while. Though it turned out he was much more substantial than I had anticipated so he could carry the conversation without too much weighty input from my end. He spoke fondly of his ex wife and his family, didn’t swear as much as me, he liked Thom Yorke, he seemed kind.

We kissed.

Yep, it was still there. My goodness, he was sexy.

I know I touched on this before but a good kiss is transcendent. Being born anew, you collapse under it, it sucks your breath out of your throat, you forget who you are and touch God.

We went to my bedroom and “made love.” Previously, he had shown me a bruise I had left a few days before and I was embarrassed. He laughed about it but seeing as how it was brought to my attention I couldn’t ignore it. Ok, it’s time to hold back. Of course, I felt the urge to let go, to erase insecurity and fear, take everything I could get and I wanted it all. I didn’t want it to end. I wanted to dig my fingers into his back, lick his neck, wrap my legs around him, take what I felt was mine.

We went to dinner at AlDiLa. When people say they like good food I never really know how to interpret it. I mean, mac’n cheese fits under that category for the general population of America. It was such an enjoyment to eat “proper” food in good company. I was mesmerized by his mouth. One of my great pleasures is watching people I love eating with relish. My favorite brunch and dinner guests are the ones that clean out my pantry….

When we got back we talked a bit more and then he told me it was time to leave. I can’t say I wasn’t a little disappointed he wouldn’t stay. Never one to ask someone to do something they don’t want to, I had to drop it. He asked “will you be mine?” He must of seen the look on my face.

“Let’s see how we go on Sunday”.

“Right, good idea.”

Except I didn’t see him on Sunday. Or after that. He was back in Miami before I knew it.

Given everything, I felt like a nickel bride, except I was the toothless idiot giving myself away.

Late Sunday night lying in the bath I laughed to myself. What on earth I had been thinking?

I deleted my Tinder account after that. I was ready to put things on hold for a while and knuckle down. I had work to do….






Tonight I went for a walk in my neighborhood.

I live in a very attractive area of NYC. Leafy trees, slate sidewalks, one way streets, brownstones. The weather was perfect, warm, still and fragrant. I had just had dinner with R who was bursting with revelations about herself, others and the experiences we all share which, if we let them can bring us together rather than separate us. It occurred to me that maybe we can be more than foot soldiers, that coexisting with complexity rather than fighting it had a beauty with it’s own name.

Spontaneously, on the way home I decided to take a stroll along the street. I felt my cotton summer dress brush against my legs as I pootled past baskets of overripe fruit and pungent flowers. I saw a couple holding hands and smiling, her in scrubs him in his t-shirt and shorts. I saw two women saying goodbye on a doorstep, embracing each other, faces like pumpkins and people sitting on their stoops just nattering away preferring the outside to in.

For the first time in a long time the gravity which had been bolting me to an unstoppable train gently lifted itself from my shoulders.

Time was working.

Everything was going to be ok.

I had been feeling out of life, synced to the wrong appliance wondering if I could get full again. It’s only you I need I thought referring to an unknown entity. Or maybe, I was thinking of the beauty with it’s own name, a name I still didn’t know even though I could feel the warmth of her next to me.



The Dominican

I had been out to dinner with P and Legs on a Tuesday night. She has great taste in food and chose a spot that was perfect.

It was a glorious night weather wise. A slight nip in the middle of Summer. Perfect.

When I got home I flopped on the couch and jumped on Tinder. I found TD and we made a new match. He messaged me straight away. He had just flown in from Miami and was “sitting around playing music with his best friend.”


He invited me to join them and after a (little bit) of umming and arring on my part I agreed. I took a car and picked up some beer on the way.

When I reached my destination I hesitated. It was a warehouse in Fort Greene near the Navy Yards on a deserted street full of other warehouses. My ideas of a couple of friendly guys sitting around a fire in their backyard were entirely invented by me or at least, I didn’t have the full picture. He greeted me at the door and we went upstairs to the most elaborate bachelor pad: a pool table, big projection, instruments everywhere, dirty kitchen, the works. I sat down and put on my best face. There were 3 guys there including TD. In fact, they were all Dominican and yes, they were playing music, they were sweet really. Amazed that I would go to a stranger’s house in the middle of the night, they thought I was pretty laid back, a cool girl.

Then TD and I played what I have to say was the worst game of pool in my life. He asked me what types of recreational drugs I partake in and I said booze, sometimes pot, sometimes blow. That was the signal. He whipped out a bag of coke and I had a bump. I could see it was decent stuff, not cut with speed.

He was definitely sexy. Sexy in a way that a proper man is. He defined self sufficiency. He knew who he was and that made me feel safe. After all that shit with E I knew I couldn’t be with a man who was that insecure again, probably ever. We talked and danced even. We kissed and it was magical. The chemistry was definitely there, the indefinable “it” factor. It hovered between us. He told me I was beautiful and asked if I thought the same. Most definitely yes. When you’ve been tip toeing for so long and you feel that you’ve lost yourself then someone comes along who just takes you over it’s…. grand in the biggest sense. He told me who I was and I needed to be told. He snuggled into me on the couch, he kissed me, he touched me in all the right ways, little things: he held his cigarette to my lips, we shared whiskey from the same glass. I was being fed. I wanted it. Him. For the night at least.

At around 2am I told him I had to go. Obviously then the next step was to go to his room and have sex. We started with kissing and again it was all there, hyper real and charged. When we lay down he told me he wanted to “make love”. This is not a word that I use ordinarily unless I’m in love but I liked the idea of feelings playing a part in this, I liked that he said it. In any other situation it would have sounded ridiculous to me. And so we did. It was deeply passionate with lots of kissing and caressing. Instead of all the coke and booze it was as though we had taken ecstasy. It was exiting, we were magnetized, we pulsed together. However unreal the situation may have seemed we were both experiencing the same intensity.

I took a car home and flopped into bed for only two hours before the boys came home. Surprisingly, I felt fine.

This divorce was working out pretty well.


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