I look at him now, and he blushes. If I tease him about his wants, his desires, his hard cock, his delicious whimpering… He hides. Blushes. Grows shy. Covers his face.

He doesn’t put it on. This is true vulnerability coming to the surface, vulnerability he’s never let me see because he always “had” to be the one in charge. But I see it now.

It’s unbelievably delicious. I wish that I could explain why it’s so delicious. It is shocking, the mental and physical reaction I get when he is embarrassed and turned on and squirmy and soft and demure.

The mental: realization that he’s feeling shy, embarrassed, small, dominated. A burst of happy, followed by excitement, the realization all over again that he’s mine to play with now, mine to fuck with, stretch on a rack of emotional and mental and physical arousal. I grow bigger, mentally, more aware of my role, more aware of the power I wield. And I want it. And want him. All deliciously tangled up together.

The physical: the excitement leads to a jump in my chest as I realize how I’m affecting him. Subtly, my body changes – my gaze even more direct, my shoulders straighter, my body more languorous. I feel like a tiger stretched out, relaxed, but with all the power in the world at my fingertips if I need it. He gets smaller, hunches his shoulders, looks down, and I get that lovely hard aching throb between my thighs. It beats. I hum.

It makes me want to grip the back of his neck and hold him down. Makes me want to soothe him by holding him between my breasts. It makes me want to curl him naked on the bed and come up behind him and cover him with bites, make him moan and whimper and

I like it when he is shy. It is a revelation to me.

what hasn’t changed since switching roles

Since I first tried on the big girl pants, things have actually changed quite a bit, and yet in some ways not at all. I’ve managed to retain quite a bit of “the old me”, so to speak, and used my love and my kink to develop scenes that hit on many of the sweet spots I’ve always had – I’m just not on the receiving end of them. Surprisingly, this is deeply satisfying for me.

  1. Being a smartass: That’s nothing new, and was the same when I was a sub. I’m mouthy and sarcastic. The thinking behind it is different, though. It used to be I would push my partner to lose their shit and dominate all over me. Shove me up against a wall, cover my mouth, shove my panties down, physically take control. I would taunt. And I wanted to be overpowered more than anything. Three months into being a Domme, I’m calmer in scene. My sarcasm and mouth now are used to fuck with my partner’s head. It also helps me to retain control in scene, because it helps me channel the side of me that I need to keep control, especially as we are both learning our new roles, occasionally stumbling across old role habits.
  2. What types of scenes I like: Pound for pound, I still love the mindfuck more than any other kind of domination. That’s still absolutely true now. In fact, it’s a relief to feel mindfuck done right, since the picture I had in my head of how mindfuck would look if done fully – by someone who knows you in and out and isn’t afraid to air out and expose all of your little picadilloes –  is finally now something I get to see. There’s incredible satisfaction in seeing my Darling’s responses, and knowing that my imagination and instincts on what works were and continue to be right.
  3. Tease and denial, baby: I was always about the tease and denial. Teasing in real life, teasing in fiction… it just always worked for me. I used to read T&D erotica and sites back in the day, though there was never much for women. As a result, I used to read and watch T&D even for men, just because it was the tease itself, and the incredible reactions it can engender, that would turn me on. Now that I control the tease, the orgasms, and the level of excitement? Whoo boy. Never more fun than today.
  4. Kissing: It’s just always been unspeakably sexy to me, the meshing of lips, the light licks ad sucks, nibbling on bottom lips. In the first incarnation of my marriage, this wasn’t really something that was on the table. But now that I’m in charge, not only does it happen, but we’ve learned that my Darling actually loves it, lusts for it, whines at being denied it. Yum.
  5. Exhibitionism: I have always been an exhibitionist, thrilled and aroused by the idea of being seen. Public arousal, semi-public acts… delicious. As luck would have it, turns out my Darling is quite an exhibitionist himself. I’ve had great fun milking this kink of ours, arousing us both and allowing me to fuck quite delightfully with his head. [Reminder to self: talk about car games in a future post! What fun!]

That’s not to say that nothing has changed. Obviously, lots has. But it’s reassuring to know that while I’m exploring new sides of myself, there’s familiarity, too. Thanks to Trilobyte for his comment, which inspired this post. More to come!

the thing I’ve been afraid to think

It’s been an exhilarating ride, these past three months, since my Darling and I decided to try and switch roles and for the first time in our lives, step into new pants (or lack thereof, depending).

It has been exhiliarating because it’s been so exciting. Because we have learned so many things about ourselves, and about each other. Because we’ve been trying new things and feeling new things and generally been on an adventure together. While neither of us realized beforehand how exciting it would be, it makes sense in retrospect.

I didn’t just identify as a sub before, despite my love of teasing. I identified as a sub. Like, that was the thing that got me juiced. The thing I looked for in partners or fantasies. The thing that made me feel safe and secure and complete and its distinct lack in the last several years were a BIG part of the reason why I came to struggle so mightily with my marriage. I didn’t ever entertain notions of dominance. From my perspective, I had enough damned dominance every day to fill two people’s lives. I run businesses for a living. Teams of people depend on me. I run our home. I take a primary caregiver role with my stepdaughter. My husband, god love him, often needs my support more than I need his. The last thing in the world I wanted was to take on that responsibility in the bedroom as well. That was supposed to be my place to relax and be taken care of.

But we sat, and we talked, and we decided to try this because nothing else was working any more and we loved each other too much to consider the alternative.

It was clear to me, though, that I was doing this to save my marriage. Not because I was actually dominant.


You see the prevarication, above? You see how desperately I already had all the clues I would ever need and yet still, I had no idea going in?

We played. Over the last twelve weeks or so, I’ve found my feet. Found a way to dominate that feels natural and right to me. Learned about what turns us on, what doesn’t, so many play sessions and teasing sessions and erotic encounters (daily! several times daily sometimes!) that seriously, we may have actually played more and been more intimate in the past twelve weeks than in the past year or two combined. (Yeah, it was that bad.)

But all along I’ve been terrified to admit the full and total truth. Even with all the evidence:

  • how frequently and hard hard hard I get turned on
  • how tender and loving I feel towards my Darling, especially when he is being shy, or submissive, or nervous
  • how intimate and comfortable I feel with his entire body for the first time in our lives, ever: I own every crevice… no spot is unseen, no area untouched
  • how easily we fell into all of this and how natural it has seemed, despite such a tidal change in how we interact
  • how natural and sudden dominant thoughts (totally foreign to me)now crop up within me – ogling thoughts, i-want-to-bite-him thoughts, wanting-to-hurt-him thoughts, wanting-to-fuck-with-his-head-and-get-him-all-aroused thoughts, and more.

I haven’t wanted to admit that maybe I was like this all along. Maybe I was always a Domme, waiting inside for my brain to catch up with what my instincts already knew.

Maybe I spent the last 13 years of my life trying to be a round hole when I was actually a square peg all along.

My Darling and I have circled around this conversation for a while, especially the last two months – wondering if we truly made a complicated mess out of nine entire years together because we were both too blind to see the truth.

But for me the questions are even further reaching: did I not know myself before? What does this mean about the other lovers I took as a sub, who dominated me and taught me about this lifestyle to begin with?

I don’t have all the answers. What I do know is that this is the happiest my Darling and I have ever been. While we still argue, the tension and acrimony and emotionally stunted last several years have, literally, disappeared in just twelve weeks. We love each other more than ever before. We do what feels natural to us – even when what feels natural is decidedly unnatural within the context of our relationship before. We talk more. Trust more. Hold each other and touch more.

For now, he is mine. I am not faking this. I am profoundly moved by this experience, more so every single day.

Perhaps I am, after all, a Domme.

the cock reflex

For years, I’ve been slow to arouse. Like, it takes a loooong time to get me simmering. Sure, that wasn’t the case before, but I was older, with more responsibility, more stress, a kid in the house – it really didn’t seem like a stretch to imagine that all of these together were affecting my sexuality.

Hrm. Well. Then we switched roles.

And now I can go off like a rocket. Deep, throbbing, lovely feelings down there. But getting used to the whys of these deep throbbing lovelies has meant getting used to a whole new world of me than I’d ever known before.

Things that now make me go off (that never did before):

  • when he looks shy, or embarassed, or blushing. (If he hides his face, look out! Sexual frenzy!)
  • when he moans, of course – but especially when he whimpers with need
  • when he shoves his greedy ass at me when I’m spanking, flogging, or even just touching him
  • when he trembles with need

Suffice it to say that now, I get a rather large number of opportunities in a week to be heavily, deeply aroused. But that’s not all. It’s the new instincts that come with this arousal that are hard to understand and a mindfuck to deal with, especially after 13-odd years of identifying as a sub.

I get… hard. There’s no other way to describe it. It’s like my clit is just bigger now, like a small cock inside of me. And when he’s vulnerable and sweet and stretched on a rack of denial and want and sensation, it…

Well. It makes me want to fuck something. Actually, it makes me want to fuck everything. 

I literally spent the first four weeks we played in these new roles feeling like a dog – that I just wanted and needed to hump up against the world and find something to shove my (and now THERE’s the question, yes? what the hell would I shove?) something into something. I honestly don’t believe I’ve been so turned on in my entire life as I have been the past 2.5 months while my Darling and I have been learning about these new roles.

I’ve begun to call it my cock reflex, because that’s really what it feels like. As though my entire life I’ve never understood how men felt, wanting to grab things and stick their cocks into them, hump up against things, and generally just thrust with their hips to soothe the unbearable sodding ache. Until now.

I’m even different now when his face is buried between my legs. (Yes, folks, since Vikki left you last, she actually learned to appreciate, enjoy and even come from cunnilingus. See the history.) Before I would screw my eyes shut and focus on the sensation and eventually, slowly, get over my shit enough to come. The idea of grabbing his hair or head was anathema to me, and something I only did occasionally, lightly, because I knew it turned him on.

[Aside: as I tell more of our stories from our past, like the one above about me grabbing his head turning him on, you’ll begin to untangle and unravel, as we are, the reality that there were hints all along. But I digress.]

Fast forward to now. I grab his head, his hair, but my favorite is to grab two hanks of hair or his head above his ears on both sides and move his lips up and down my clit until it feels like the world’s smallest blowjob. Sweeeejesus. I could fuck that face into infinity.

The natural extension of this, of course, is for me to get a cock of my very own to wear and fuck things with. But that’s a story for another day.

orgasm classification

According to my man, who has done intensive study on the subject, I apparently have three types of orgasm. I laughed out loud when he said it – that many types, really? – but once he explained it to me, I couldn’t help but agree.

Please note the naming is his, not mine! 🙂

Angel wings – Quick, intense, brief. These are the surprise orgasms, the ones he doesn’t see coming… they’re just suddenly there, and just as suddenly over. Extra bonus points if these happen on a night when we both need to get to sleep!

OHMYGODs – These are the long rollercoastery orgasms he seems to love the best. He described it that my body tries to climb into the mattress and he just tries to hold on for the ride, keeping up stimulation for as long as I need it. He knows when I’m done, because I jerk away or slap his hands/mouth away, usually near screaming from the intensity.

Gentle earthquakes – these can take just as long to accomplish as OHMYGODs but they’re more like a brook bubbling over. They’re quiet, with no clear peaks but instead just a rising tide that crests and falls.

I asked him if he ever tries for a certain kind and he said no, there’s no way to tell. It’s kind of like Russian roulette but with a more favorable outcome – or like a box of chocolates, just like Forrest says. You never know what you’re gonna get. 😉

coming clean about getting dirty

Bear with me, all, this post’s been a long time in coming. And those of you who still manage to stop by occasionally may begin to understand why Vikki’s been such a quiet little thing this year.

It’s been a tough year. There’s been cancer, and almost-cancer, a heart attack, aneurisms, a cat that said goodbye, sick dogs, one very young death, new jobs and new apartments and business crises and a new relationship that has somehow weathered that past year and is still going strong, if not quite as naked-sexy-writhing-on-rubber-sheets as we’d both like.

And I’ve read that some people actually manage to get off on all that crisis, manage to take all those shakes at normalcy and mortality and turn it into something frantic and moist and pulsing between two (or more) naked bodies. Good on ’em, I say. For me, it’s been sufficiently crazy and emotional and gut-wrenchingly tense that I’m lucky to get in the mood at all, some nights. Luckily, I have a very patient (when I can’t) and sexy (when I can) man in my life.

But I’d be lying if I said this year hasn’t had an effect. I haven’t played as much as I’d like, haven’t had my face shoved into the bed while my ass is de-pantified rapidly and abruptly for some spankings and a good hard fucking nearly as often as I’d love.

And it’s turning me into a bit of a control freak. It’s making me whimpery and whiny (at least internally) when things aren’t absolutely perfect, if sex tries (naughty, sex) to happen when I haven’t planned or anticipated it to happen, if it happens where or how I haven’t imagined it, and sometimes my body shuts down. But really, most of the time it’s my mind, somehow struggling for control in this one area, I think, since I seem to have so little control over illness and mortality and all that other horrifying human shit.

I hate it. I want to get back to Little Miss Goes With The Flow, the woman who may want to control everything at work but can snap into submissive mode in a heartbeat with the right firm hand on the back of my neck, the right harsh sexy tone whispered in my ear. And my man can help with this, but a lot of it has to happen inside me.

I have to damned well relax. I have to give in, give up, not worry so much about what’s going to happen if I’m not driving for ten goddamned minutes. I have to stop worrying about not being perfect.

And so, the plan. That’s what you’ve all been waiting for, hasn’t it? Some reassurance that the lady sex blogger isn’t just going to implode all over your computer screen, and not in a good way?

I’m going back to basics. Back to where I was five years ago when I escaped my marriage with only the tatters of my self esteem wrapped around me and my sex drive dialled down to zero.

I’m going to start devoting time to my sexuality. Same as I’d devote time to walking the dog or calling my mom or having moments of meditation, all the things we do for ourselves every week to keep us sane. Just a little each day, something to make me feel sexy or earthy or slick and wanton. Taking more baths. Reading more erotica. Playing more with my poor, neglected sex toys before they leave me for good.

Wanna watch? *wink*

blogging with an audience

This sure is a strange and digital world we all live in.

I had a number of lovers before my first husband, but that was back in the BC days (before computers – at least, for me), so for the most part I’ve never seen nor heard from them ever again.

Not so with the new digital age. By the time I left my husband, I had started on the fledgling site that would become Herdesires. I didn’t think much of sharing the URL with friends and particularly new lovers, which meant that over time there were a number of men from my past or present who knew of the web site.

I occasionally find myself wondering, particularly when telling stories from my past, if there are any exes who still read this darn thing. Not sure I really want to know – it might inhibit my storytelling. Plus, not all of the endings were pleasant, you know?

But most of all, I wonder when comments are posted anonymously to my stories. There have been dozens of them over the years that have set me to wondering – was that him? Or him? Or him? I’ll never know, but this is the kind of idle speculation I allow myself to indulge in rather than, say, watching reality television. [shudder]

For the most part, though, I write what I like and the audience be hanged. Some topics may give me a moment’s pause, but in the end, they’re my stories to tell, my thoughts to share, my explorations to cover. I don’t use names (other than the occasional nicknames – The Muse, HWTMF, The Boy) so I figure it’s all pretty harmless.

It is a little surreal, though. Kind of like public exhibitionism with a big white light in your face so you can’t really tell who’s in the audience – anyone you know might be out there. Or it might just be an empty room.

Cool little digital world we’ve built for ourselves, isn’t it?

10 things about a shaved pussy

1. Mentholated shaving cream is very, very tingly on your nether bits.

2. If your partner is shaving you, it requires a level of intensity, concentration and observation that is absolutely surreal. They will know you better than you know yourself down there when it’s all over.

3. Shaving “with the grain” reduces red bumps. Who knew.

4. When you get wet, you now get wet. All over.

5. It’s like having a new toy to play with. For both of you.

6. Jeans and no panties, in a word: chafing.

7. Wearing your hair in pigtails on the weekend takes on a whole new meaning. Kinky.

8. Yes. It does itch. But it’s not bad.

9. Awareness and sensitivity increase, making you feel very naughty just walking down the street. “I know something you don’t know!”

10. Oral sex. Oh. My. God.

100 sexy things about me

Since I’m bored tonight, and feeling a little at loose ends, I thought I’d try my own version of the 100 things meme that seems to make the rounds in the blogosphere every so often. However, since I figure none of you really care about the color of my couch or the number of years I’ve lived in my apartment or where I went to school, I’ve modified the concept a bit for this blog: it’s all about sex, baby.
Now here’s hoping I can come up with 100 things about sex, huh?

  1. I notice a man’s hands first.
  2. I notice his eyes second.
  3. I have fooled around with a bisexual man exactly once.
  4. I have fooled around with a woman exactly once. (remind me to tell that story someday; it’s funny.)
  5. I prefer cut but won’t rule out uncut as a possibility.
  6. Super-long “porn” cocks scare the bejeesus out of me because I value my lungs.
  7. I own too many vibrators to count them all. Probably about ten.
  8. Two of them plug in.
  9. Only one is cock-sized and I rarely ever use it.
  10. And yet having a man’s fingers or cock inside me when I come feels incredible. (Go figure.)
  11. I own two butt plugs.
  12. Other than a test run when I first bought them, have never had them inside me.
  13. I own one pair of cuffs, from Eros Boutique, and they’re damned yummy.
  14. I own a black leather corset which makes me feel sexier than anything else in my closet.
  15. I own a black leather riding crop and yes, I’ve had it used on me.
  16. I own two slave collars, but my favourite is a black leather one given to me by a wonderful Dom.
  17. My favourite lube is Eros.
  18. Which is fantastic for giving handjobs.
  19. My favourite condom is Lifestyles Ultra Thin.
  20. Condoms are a neccessity. No glove, no love.
  21. Except during oral sex. And yes, I know that’s risky.
  22. I love to read erotica.
  23. Black Lace novels are my favourite.
  24. Nexus are a distant second.
  25. Emma Holly is my favourite erotica author.
  26. Also Aran Ashe.
  27. I have an entire bookshelf devoted to sex-related books.
  28. Some of them are non-fiction, even.
  29. My favourite non-fiction book is Screw The Roses, Send Me The Thorns.
  30. Also The Technology of Orgasm.
  31. Porn photos, even yummy amateur ones, do nothing for me.
  32. Erotic ones do, but mostly as art appreciation rather than arousal-inducing.
  33. Gay porn is hot hot hot.
  34. Brian Kinney would be my ideal partner if I were gay. Or if he was real. Or if I was a guy. Damn.
  35. There are times I have wondered what it would feel like to have a cock.
  36. Roughly the same times I swear I’m coming back as a gay man looking for a leather daddy.
  37. Lesbian porn is also enjoyable as long as it, the women, and the orgasms, are real.
  38. Het porn, unless it explores a specific kink, generally does little for me.
  39. My biggest pet peeve about porn is the lack of BDSM porn *with sex*.
  40. My strangest fetish is for priests and other men of the cloth.
  41. No, I don’t know where it came from.
  42. But it makes watching Quills and Stigmata highly enjoyable.
  43. I began learning about BDSM back in 2000 or so.
  44. A man named The Muse inspired my reading.
  45. Amusingly, I never played with him.
  46. It didn’t take me long to realize how strongly BDSM turned me on.
  47. I identify as submissive but don’t need it every time I have sex.
  48. However, power exists in every exchange between two people, and I notice this more now.
  49. And yes, it turns me on.
  50. I hate doormat subs. I’m a feisty little thing.
  51. I believe that how a person kisses is a great indicator of what kind of lover they are.
  52. I believe that what two (or three, or more) consenting adults do in the privacy of their own bedroom is their business.
  53. Unless they decide to share it with me. And that’s just fun, really.
  54. The oldest star I find sexually attractive is Robert Redford. Or Sean Connery.
  55. And yes, that creeps me out. But I do anyway.
  56. The youngest star I find sexually attractive is Hayden Christensen.
  57. And yes, that also creeps me out. But again, I do anyway.
  58. I get secret crushes on bloggers from time to time.
  59. I have a perverse hope that bloggers get crushes on me from time to time.
  60. I love getting sexy email from my readers (hint!) although I admit I’m absolutely terrible at getting back to most of them.
  61. I started writing erotica in 1999.
  62. I’ve written several stories that don’t appear here for one reason or another.
  63. Only one of them was kept from the site because I was afraid it would be judged harshly.
  64. Many of my stories are inspired by sexy men I know, sexy men I’m fucking, or sexy men I’m dreaming about at the time.
  65. I’m currently writing for a men’s magazine as well as this site; the magazine pays better. 🙂
  66. Yes, if you write me personally I’ll tell you which one.
  67. I’m working on several different stories as we speak and plan to get them up here just as soon as possible.
  68. I find most erotica on the Internet to be poorly written both grammatically, and in terms of pacing.
  69. I do have a few exceptions I keep on my hard drive for reference.
  70. My favourite source for erotic fiction online is
  71. Which might explain why I have to wade through so much crap to find good fiction.
  72. And yes, reading about gay sex is almost as hot as watching it. Or maybe hotter. I’m not sure.
  73. But despite that, erotic fiction *books* featuring gay men are so boring to me I might as well read about knitting. If I did that sort of thing.
  74. I usually masturbate to erotic fiction.
  75. Only rarely do I masturbate to mental fantasies but some exceptions have been made.
  76. I masturbate roughly once a day unless I’m stressed which thankfully hasn’t been often, lately.
  77. The exception is three or four consecutive days every month when I’m incredibly horny and crampy, when I come several times a day usually.
  78. I believe the concecpt of the “vaginal orgasm” was one of the worst inaccurate concepts from 20th century sexology.
  79. I use toys about 95% of the time but mix them up every several days depending on my mood.
  80. My idea of a perfect Saturday afternoon is spent in bed with the sun streaming in and a hard cock to play with for hours.
  81. Because I just love touching them, and not just for the purpose of orgasm – just because I find them delicious to hold and taste and look at and stroke and…
  82. Public places turn me on.
  83. I have not had as much discreet public play as my voracious appetites would like. Yet.
  84. I have given a blow job in a deserted alleyway once.
  85. I have given a hand job in a darkened underground stairway once.
  86. I had sex once on the trading floor of a major bank.
  87. The walls were glass windows and the biggest turn on was worrying that someone would see.
  88. I have been teased in darkened doorways.
  89. But not in a movie theater or an elevator or a restaurant or a bar or the dozens of other places I would like to try.
  90. Which means I’m going to be a very busy girl eventually.
  91. I have also never had sex outside.
  92. The idea of this is a big turn on. Particularly at night, under the stars.
  93. My favourite position is missionary. I know. So vanilla. You’re all shocked. I can tell.
  94. I have never had a threesome. And yes, I’ve fantasized about it. Mostly with two men in the starring roles.
  95. And despite my love for gay sex most of these fantasies do not involve them touching each other. Okay, some do. But most don’t.
  96. I have considered from time to time trying out a male escort.
  97. Dropping $600-$1000 on a single night (and yes, that’s what they cost around here – I checked) is one of the main reasons I haven’t ever done so.
  98. I do believe prostitution should be legalized so its workers can have the same protection and rights as all others in the workforce. Because they probably need it even more than the kid at the donut shop making $8/hr.
  99. I believe in safe, sane and consensual, even when you’re not talking about BDSM.
  100. Despite the length of this list and the content of this site, I don’t think about sex all the time. Really. Well, mostly.

cunni-what? update

You know, I hesitated for a long time writing about my issues with cunnilingus. I hate like hell to show my clay feet, and prefer most of the time to reside on the earth-goddess pedestal I just know you’ve all put me on. 🙂

That said, I’ve been blown away by the response I’ve gotten. The comments have been wonderfully supportive and full of some excellent suggestions, some of which I may just take under advisement with my next beau. When I get over the squirm factor, anyway.

One of the most lubricious responses came from the inimitable Jonathan Quince, who felt moved enough by my ick factor to pen an entire post of his own, Nectar of Godliness:

Live and learn. There are so many delights in this life oft taken for granted; and it is altogether too easy to assume that a thoroughly enjoyable activity would be pleasing to everybody. Thus, I was in shock to see that a woman could refuse to be on the receiving end of cunnilingus. “It’s icky,” she says (emphasis hers). Say what!? Making such an allegation in my presence is tantamount to telling an addict that cocaine is “icky”.

The entire post is really wonderful, penned in Jonathan’s matchless over-the-top style. And all I could think reading it was: Oh, man, where were you when I was young and dating boys who did think it was icky?

Careful readers will note his tongue-in-cheek (ahem) offer to duly tie me up and offer me the relief I seek, were I ever in his presence. Good gravy. Let’s just say such a statement made me tongue-tied, to say the least. Luckily, my tongue is not required to pen a response here, and I’ll simply say that the young lady in his life is a lucky one indeed.

As for me, I continue to work towards finding inner peace about my issues with this act. Nancy Friday once coined it as the “cloaca concept”, and I could relate immediately. But hearing from all of you, including Sir Jonathan, has helped immensely to reassure me that there are indeed some men who really enjoy it, and perhaps at some point I may find one and give it the old college try again.

Thank you, all!