The Single-Married Spectrum

Helloooo to you Internet friends!

It has been so long. Like, the kind of long that I would be tempted to refer to as, I don't know, maybe a "dog's age..." if I were inclined to employ such cliches. Which I am, and so I did. It's been so long since I typed at you that you have probably watched two or three entire Oscar baiting epic dramas in the time since you last visited this here enclave on the Internet.

Honestly, very little has changed, in the grand scheme of things. But whatever. Let's cut to the ol' quick here. You know, get down to business- brass tacks, the nitty gritty. Let us mince not a single more word, in favor of addressing the matter at hand...

That topic being-

A fave rave matter of mine: the semantics of romance. The language of the heart, if you will. More specifically, what constitutes a "single" person as opposed to a not single person. Like literally EVERY other topic that this here Blogspot has ever attempted to tackle, this is a hugely complicated matter, since nothing in this world (besides maybe binary code) is actually a binary if you think about it really.

And obviously, everyone knows this. Hell, even social networking sites have long since picked up on the fact that things are often "complicated" when it comes to defining oneself in terms of where one exists on the Single-Married Spectrum. But what we strive to do on the blog formerly and currently known as Sex With Me is Rad is to create functional definitions of things, in the hope that, using said definitions as a guideline, we can craft solutions to the thornier issues that insistently pick away at our hearts and minds like so many earnest ukulele players at the local upcycled craft swap.

So, without further ado, the ten points on the Single- Married Spectrum (heretofore to be referred to as the "SMS"). Just imagine that each description of the individual points is your answer to the question: "What do you generally do at the end of a typical Saturday night?"

1: I spend my night watering my twin pet ferns, Steve and Charles, with my hot bitter tears.

2: I throw back three or four nightcaps and masturbate desperately to whatever pornographic thought/image/snippet of erotic fiction is most free and convenient. Or, I simply fall asleep to the rhythmic throb of my lonely blood beating in my ears.

3: I throw back a nightcap (or two) and masturbate desperately to some hackneyed sexual fantasy about one of the bussers at the Olive Garden, and/or I replay in my mind, from every possible angle, this sideways glance (smirk?) he/she cast me while cradling a pile of pesto stained dinner plates h/she was rushing back to the kitchen.    

4: I make myself a Hot Pocket and send a semi-coherent text message to someone I have gone on one to three dates with and/or had sex with two to three times. If they reply at all, it will be the following morning, and will likely be something along the lines of "yeah" or "LOL."

5: I make myself a nice plate of nachos and then peruse the "Little Black Book" section of my contacts list, and then send a completely coherent proposition to one of the several eligible parties, who then responds, accepting said proposition with pleasure. I finish my nachos and then proceed to have satisfying, if not emotionally gratifying, sex with the eligible party.    

6: I come home, with someone I have gone on one to five dates with, and we have somewhat satisfying, possibly emotionally gratifying sex that culminates in confusion, and possibly a conversation to the effect of "So, um. What the fuck are we doing, anyway?"   

7: I come home, with someone I have gone on more than five dates with, and we have somewhat satisfying, possibly emotionally gratifying, sex that triggers feelings of moderate to severe confusion/insecurity, a conversation to the effect of "So, um. What the fuck are we doing, anyway?" and the eventual conclusion that you actually really like each other and want to be "exclusive" from here on out.

8: I come home, with the person I have determined to be my significant other, after a nice dinner and a motion picture that we both found to be agreeable. Depending on the mood, we may or may not kiss/have sex/look each other in the eye.

9: I come home, with my significant other, after a nice dinner and a motion picture that we both found to be agreeable. One of us has a ring on her finger that wasn't there back when we both rated an "8" on the SMS.  

10: I creep softly into my childrens' room, and after smiling gently at them in their angelic slumber, crawl into bed with the only partner I have ever known- where our bodies and souls fit together like a comfortably padded ass in a well worn leather couch.           

Note that I tried to account for both of the primary motivations for human coupling- love and lust. Around the "6" mark, you start to see that the two motivators are beginning to become entangled somewhat. Unless you happen to have very specific moral convictions (religious or otherwise), about sex, chances are, if you aren't actually sleeping with anybody, you don't rate higher than a "4" on the SMS.

Obviously, there are thousands of variations on this basic theme that represent decimal points in the spectrum, but this should give you a decent idea of where you stand. I'll be (hopefully) using this blog entry as a reference point when I refer to issues of monogamy and how it relates to other facets of one's romantic life. So, make sure you bookmark this one for future reference.

And I can assure you, oh nester in the warm confines of the cozy little internet bubble that is Sex With Me is Rad, there will be a future for us. With hoverboards and flying cars and robot maids. The whole nine yards, I tells ya. Just you wait.

Short and Sweet. Just like yr Valentine.

Solving the “St. Valentine’s Day Problem.”

Well, hello there, Sexsters! As you may have noticed, it’s St. Valentine’s Day, that extra special day of the year where we celebrate “Love.” And, since this blog just so happens to be dedicated to the “Art of Love,” I feel that I would be so remiss in NOT posting a new blog entry on this holy of unholiest days that I would probably have to fire myself. In fact, if I didn’t post something new on Valentine’s Day, I fear that Bloghands, the almighty Arch-Daeva of the blogosphere, would probably reduce me to a fine ash right here in my computer chair. And nobody wants that, except maybe for Bloghands, who I’m told can be a rather vindictive and sadistic Arch-Daeva indeed.   

Anyway, the most obvious question to ask about St. Valentine’s Day (hereby to be referred to as “SVD,” so as to make it sound as much like something you contract after group sex with a hair metal band as possible) is- “What should I do on SVD if I’m in a relationship?” The second most obvious question is “What should I do on SVD if I’m single?”

And, of course, the simple answer to these questions is “something nice with your loved one” and “mope,” respectively.  Duh.

So, today’s lesson is simple, straight to the point. Brutal, even, in its simplicity.

But wait. There are alternatives. And, better still, these alternatives are not mutually exclusive with the aforementioned options!

I say, we need to galvanize SVD as one of those wonderful “cheap excuse to drink in excess” holidays.

Yeah. Just like St. Patrick’s Day and New Year’s Eve and Cinco De Mayo.

I mean, it’s practically already there. All we need to do is come out and say it!

February 14^th is no longer a day reserved for flowers and candy and the all consuming feeling that, even if you aren’t necessarily “alone,” per se, you’re more or less bound to die that way.

So, belly up to the bar, with or without your sweetheart, and raise a glass with SEX WITH ME IS RAD- the Love Blog that wants you to want it, Needs you to need it. LOVES you to LOVE it. And all that Jazz.