Throwing Shade

I don’t know if it’s an age thing or what, but when I hit my 40s and 50s, I found myself sitting on boards of various clubs and community organizations. I was off one certain board for a while, and they asked me to step back in because nobody else was a sucker recently.

So, last night we had to move the meeting to the home of one of the other members, a nice older lady. Widowed for 20+ years, I’d put her in her mid 70s. Old-fashioned, salt-of-the-earth, small town style, if you know what I mean. The kind that dotes on her dog when her grandkids aren’t around. The kind that always decorates for the holidays.

Anyway, I’m sitting in the least comfortable chair (because I showed up 5 minutes late it helps me to stay awake during the dull parts), and during the part of the meeting where they were arguing over the $7.95 in postage fees, my eyes were wandering around and I started noting the titles in her bookcase. Nora Ephron. Nora Roberts. Nora Nicholas Sparks. Wait, what’s that one? I can’t read the title.

I shift my attention back to the group. The postage was for a special mailing to promote some function or another last month, and did anybody bother to budget for the mailings, and how you can’t expect it to be part of normal operating expenses…

I scootch forward and surreptitiously tip my head to the side to read the title.


Oh dear lord, no, please, no…


*ears start tingling*

I calmly look back. The Treasurer and the Secretary are arguing about what normal operating expenses should be, and if we have this event every year then shouldn’t postage should be a normal expense…

And next to “Grey” I see three more similarly styled paperbacks. I squinch up my eyes to confirm what my brain has already assumed.

50 Shades…

*eyeballs start melting*

I look up again. They’re still droning on about whether the special mailings postage should be part of the normal office account or entered into a different account, and why does a non-profit community group need so many accounts anyway and who does the books so what difference does it make…

I stare intently at the books on the shelf. Is that… it is, isn’t it?

There are page markers in the god damn books! Actually goddamn bookmarks, just sticking out in the middle where our little grandmotherly, holiday plate decorating board member carefully placed them to find the good parts.

*head asplodes*

I look up again, biting my lip to contain my laughter.

“Finally, that’s settled. Can we move on to new business,  now?”

Yes, please. Let’s.



I happen to like a mature woman with a little experience.

Ms. Dana Sprecht

Playboy to stop publishing nude photos of women, says they’re ‘passé’ – MarketWatch

Growth in internet porn pushes Playboy magazine to stop running photos of fully nude women, in a bid to make itself more relevant.

Source: Playboy to stop publishing nude photos of women, says they’re ‘passé’ – MarketWatch

I’m sure that most of my readers have heard the news that Playboy has decided to stop publishing full-out nude pictures, and that while keeping the centerfolds, tone the shots down to a PG-13 variety.

I’m bracing myself for the dozens, if not hundreds of essays in the near future, mainly from men of a certain age, bemoaning the loss, and waxing nostalgic about how those large-boobed, inviting-looking women were such a vital part of exploring their budding sexuality.

Personally, while I could write something similar, I’m finding myself feeling a bit ambivalent. I discovered Playboy when I was a young adolescent (my father had a subscription), and when I was in my 20s, I subscribed for several years. I can honestly say that I enjoyed the articles, tips on picking out clothing, how to mix drinks, etc. But by my mid-twenties, the pictures were leaving me a bit, well, unsatisfied – that’s the period where I was probably searching out more BDSM-ish or Femdommish images. This was pre-internet (yes, I’m that old), but computers and online BBS groups were fun places to trade the images. Eventually, I let my subscription lapse because Playboy just stopped being relevant to my needs.

And now that I’m well into middle age, I find that I rarely get worked up over pictures of women young enough to be my daughter. Yeah, they’re easy on the eyes, but I prefer to look at pictures of attractive women closer to my own age – something that Playboy (and similar publications) rarely, if ever, published.

So, Playboy is, well, not gone, but changed. I’ll remember it fondly, but I’ll file those memories away with my Walkman Cassette, my car phone, my dot matrix printer, and my Hayes 1200 Smartmodem.

Did I say that Playboy rarely posted shots of women closer to my age? Here are some shots of  a 50 year old Joan Collins from 1983; I have to admit, I remember these shots very well.


50 Grades of… well, you know.

Since all the other kink bloggers are dissing “50 Shades” (and not without good reason), I thought I’d take to opportunity to up my coolness factor and not write about it.

We have some friends who are decidedly conservative, and who sometimes spare no opportunity to chide me on what they are sure will be my differing opinion on some topic at hand. So, the bait comment at dinner the other night wasn’t completely unexpected.

“So, I’ll bet you and Mrs. Edge are going to see that new movie, the 50 Shades thing, aren’t you?”

“Pffft, bunch of amateurs,” I snorted. “I’m waiting for an interesting movie to come out.”

She looked briefly at (a suddenly stonefaced) Mrs. Edge for support, found none, and back at me. Then she closed her eyes and shook her head. “Oh my God, figures you’d say something like that,” she muttered, and speared another cheese cube.

I can’t figure out if they imagine we’re much kinkier than we actually are, or if they’re so clueless about sexuality that they can’t imagine what we get up to. Mrs. Edge and I have decided that our friends probably don’t even have sex anymore, so maybe it doesn’t even matter.

Personally, I suspect that we keep getting invited to parties just so they can have someone to talk about later on.


I don’t know if this couple is actually kinky, but she certainly looks like she’s being protective of her property.

The Fifty-five Year Old Virgins

So, Mrs Edge and a bunch of her friends were going out to some local production of “Le Wicked Miz Cats” or something that I didn’t have much interest in seeing. She invited them over for dinner and drinks beforehand, with the suggestion that if I cleaned the kitchen afterwards, then it might bode well for me getting some kind of treat later on. And it worked out pretty well for both of us, actually.

But I’m sure that nobody is really interested in that kind of thing. Besides, that’s not the point of this post.

So, I joined them for dinner; partly because I was hungry, and partly because it was actually in the dining room. Yes, the dining room. When the aliens land and start looking at middle-class American homes, they are going to wonder about the shrine that many people have which only is used for religious feasts several times a year. “The inhabitants of this house must have been particularly devout practitioners; several of the younger inhabitants appeared to have shared a room, although there was plenty of space at the other end of the house which appeared to be reserved for the household temple of feasts.”

Anyway, her friends — all 50+ year old women who are no longer married — were talking about dating, and several of them complained that “It’s like men are only after one thing.” I tried to just smile and nod, hoping to get out of this alive, when one of them started talking about her plan to make any potential suitor wait at least 3 months before she’d get into bed with him. To my surprise, several other women agreed enthusiastically with her.

This caused an involuntary reaction, and I began coughing up some linguini. Eyes turned toward me. Too late, I was going to have to join the conversation.

“So, Tom; you’re a sensible kind of guy. What do you think of that idea?”

I started saying that I had known several of these women since we were in our twenties, and there’s no way in hell that any of them would have waited three weeks, let alone three months. I added, “Besides, you’re all fifty-plus years old, and the guys that you’re going to meet are other fifty year old guys who are most likely starved for affection. What do you think that you have to offer that’s worth waiting for?”

The sudden sharp connection between my shin and Mrs Edge’s pump reminded me that I was now crossing out of “sensible” into “too blunt” territory, so I quickly got up to fetch more wine.  When I got back, they were complaining that they were tired of the men who only seemed to be after one thing, and how they were going to be much more careful in who they dated.

It’s worth noting that out of these women, all of them were recently divorced, and have had at least two marriages in the previous fifteen years – except for one who was newly into her third, or possibly fourth marriage.  Interestingly, all of them agreed that making the guy wait some (in my opinion) inordinately long amount of time was the appropriate strategy.

I’ve since asked several other older friends about this, and I have to admit that I’m a bit startled to find that most of them agreed with this approach. Maybe I’m just thinking about it wrong, but I can’t help but imagine that if I were 50+ and single, I wouldn’t want to waste a quarter of a year just to see if a potential partner was sexually compatible with me; although to be fair, I’m pretty certain that most of the women in my social circle would not make the rankings (and wouldn’t come close to Mrs Edge, anyway).

So, since we have a number of more mature readers here, can any of you give me some insight as to this mindset? I mean, I can understand waiting when you’re 20. But after two or three children and a couple of husbands, what the heck are you holding out for? And guys? What do you think of this approach?


And thinking about something wicked …

Danica Collins. So hot right now...

… allows the incomparable Danica Collins to once again grace our pages.

Sex education: Brainiacs have fewer notches on their bedposts than those without degrees | Love & Sex | Life & Style | Daily Star. Simply The Best 7 Days A Week

As a matter of fact, this idea has been kicked around since the 1970s, but apparently there’s a survey that once again shows that kink and intelligence seem to be correlated.

Sex education: Brainiacs have fewer notches on their bedposts than those without degrees.



And while we’re thinking about brainiacs, Danica Collins as a strict schoolmarm will certainly make you smart.


Sex education: Brainiacs have fewer notches on their bedposts than those without degrees | Love & Sex | Life & Style | Daily Star. Simply The Best 7 Days A Week