Tag Archives: sex



BIsexual, BIcurious, BIannual. Helping hints or just annoying ‘fashionable’ labels?










Women who make me wish I was gay: Eva Longoria Parker, Nelly  Furtado, Sharleen Spiteri, Cameron Diaz

Men who make me wish I was gay: Spencer Pratt, the entire male ensemble of every Big Brother programme ever made, Chris Evans, Enrique Englais.

I am an open minded sort (if I keep saying it, people are bound to believe me at some point!) but recently I’ve become disheartened by my liberal attitude. I’ve been a member on a forum for a wee while now and it’s inhabited by like minded people who have a lot more experience in the sex field. I’m not insinuating they’re all pimps and whores… Although wouldn’t it be great if there was a forum dedicated to these people? No, I mean not only do they type about it; they also do the very rare act these days of actually experiencing it too. I do sex toy reviews for this site and you need people reading to believe your an open minded sort who’s not some tight thighed WASP sitting at her computer tutting and tisking at the youth of today. With that in mind, under the heading sexual orientation I was happy to put ‘Married Bisexual’. I didn’t have a problem with it. Yes I married a man and no I have not ever done the dirty tango with a woman but I do find some of them, emphasis on some, sexually attractive. No, I’m not one of these closet bi’s that harbours deep seated sexual longings for her best female friend… So breathe woman, but I do get why some women like other women. I’m not above the odd two finger shuffle while thinking about an attractive woman. Admittedly they are almost always celebrities and always the finer specimen of the species. That said, I never fantasize about male celebrities. Don’t get me wrong, mention the likes of Liam Neeson or George Clooney and my mind will always go to a bad and x rated place but strangely enough they don’t have any staring roles in any of my fantasies. Is this because I’m already sexually fulfilled by my man? Probably, but the fact I’m not afraid to fantasize about women and indeed admit it to a bunch of strangers on here says to me. Nessie you ain’t straight as a dye.

Anyway, back to said forum. There I was patting myself on the back for being so goddamn open minded and sexually forward for admitting my indecisiveness online when someone comes straight out (if you’ll excuse the expression) and asks ‘why’ I’m bisexual. I reply that some women interest me and had I not met Mr. Nessie at the beginning of time I suspect I would not be above dating one. The damning reply of
“That means bicurious then NOT bi sexual. Stop confusing the two. You’re sending out the wrong message”
I was amused, bemused and frankly pissed of. I had no idea that any labels I attribute to myself could be called into question by someone who knew me from approximately 5 posts on the Internet. As for the wrong message… well, the mind baffles really.
I once asked a friend of mine what sexuality he was
“I’m an equal opportunities employer” He replied
“So you’re bi sexual then?” I asked
“Pfft, I’ll do a man or a woman depending on my mood. I’m not bi anything. Those labels are only employed now because people are anal about labeling themselves these days. You are what you are. Why pigeon hole yourself? I also love eating pizza, dancing to loud music in my flat alone and never do my own laundry. Should I find labels for all that and include it the next time I introduce myself?”
I still class this as one of the best answers I’ve ever had when it come to the time old question ‘What’s your sexual orientation?’
So come on people. Thoughts, theories, insults? Is it important to mark your wrapper clearly or are we a society gone label mad?




Filed under RANTS


Babies crying, car alarms, the neighbours kids destroying various items outside the house, incessant ringing of novelty alarm clocks, dogs barking, World War 3… When you think about it, men can pretty much sleep through anything. With this fact pretty much agreed on the world over; why is it if you decide to have a little ‘personal’ time to yourself at night you’re man will not only wake up, but will think that your ‘you’ time should automatically become ‘our’ time. Of course, I mean straight women NEVER get sexually aroused unless it’s by their significant other. We NEVER want to ‘waste’ our precious few orgasms on ourselves, if indeed we are able to achieve it all by our lonesome, when we can share them!!!

Is Nessie being sarcastic? Is Nessie pissed that she can no longer do the two finger shuffle without comatose Mr Nessie waking and thinking it’s his lucky night? Frustrated? Just a tad!!

Don’t get me wrong, I’m a lucky, lucky bugger. I’m able to reach the highs with and without Mr Nessie . I realize I’m in a minority here and I’m not knocking it. I just feel more than a little pissed that my ability to have a stealth like a personal moment is getting less and less likely. Here’s my story, feel free to sing along when you have the tune!

Now obviously I’m a sexual person (you’ll know that if you’re at all observant) and I’m lucky enough to have met an equally, if not more so (on the basis that he’s male) sexual mate. I like to pride myself on my open mindedness to all thing sex. Pretty freaky really given that my mother insinuated that I would practically drop dead from an STD the second I looked at a man or, perish the thought, had sex outside of the marital institution… Then I’d get an STD, become pregnant with Satan’s child AND be forever doomed to live out my sinful existence in a housing estate, eternally single and with a litter of hell spawn. Shocked I ever lost my virginity? Hell, I’m shocked I didn’t flee to a nunnery.

Now I’m not knocking my upbringing. I grew up in the Highlands of Scotland, the fact I never married my brother at age 7/approached sleeping livestock with spare wellie boots/introduced my washing machine as my life partner is something to be proud of… I’m told.

So, I met my man and went about learning all things sex related and disproving all things mother related. I was one of the lucky ones. Mr Nessie had had enough experience to learn a few things but not enough to jade him against some wet behind the ears highland lass with completely the wrong idea of bedroom fun… that’s a story for another blog I think. I can digress with the best of them, and if that’s something that irritates you then might I suggest leaving now before you try to hunt me down for infuriating you?

Where were we? Being sexually open but limited in the self editing department. Och, maybe I’m just bitter because my other half seems to know what makes me tick sexually better than I do myself. Maybe it’s because I’m always up for a bit of slap and tickle but rarely take the time out to slap my own tickle. Who knows, but one thing is certain… It must stop! What the hell am I going to do if Mr Nessie kicks the bucket? Am I doomed to become one of these teeth grindingly irritating women who claim that since loosing their ‘soul mate’ their body has become their temple which no man, woman, finger or battery operated device must pass? Good Lord shoot me now and make it hurt.

I’ve tried nearly every sneaky trick in the book to confuse and in turn allude Mr Nessie to the fact that I’m ‘pruning the secret garden’ in bed. Yes, corkers such as waiting for him to turn on his side away from me and loudly sighing ‘Damn I’m having an allergic reaction to the soap/bed sheets/neighbours and it’s itchy as all hell’ Having set the ground work that if at anytime during the night Mr Nessie should feel the bed shaking with vigour, then he’ll assume I’ve got hives and am scratching myself to buggery, then fall back into his comatose state in seconds. Hell it works if I try to have a conversation about our finances, his family, my family or why my constant battle to loose weight was failing long before I consumed twice my body weight in junk food the night before. Does it work? No, no it does not. He’s like a mere cat the second he feels the bed shudder. I swear I’d accuse him of setting me up every time if I honestly believed he had the ability to stay awake longer than the obligatory 4 minutes 7 seconds it takes him to fall into such a deep sleep that his snoring vibrates the bloody window frames.

You know what? I had loads more examples of just how sneaky I can become in getting some ‘me’ time, but I suspect that if you’ve read this far then you’re more than familiar with all of them and so I gratefully turn over to all of you. Why not use this blog as a sounding of board for all your grievances with sex, the opposite, the same, the getting of, the lack or the escaping of. We’ll all nod, smile, wecome you to the group and then concoct a suitable plan of action on how to overcome it.

On that note, I’m of some personal time before he gets to bed. I’m no sadist, it’s never going to happen with him in there… no matter how silent I am!

Til my next brain fart


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Filed under RANTS