Truth Undressed (Exposed Series, #3) (8 page)

Lover #4:
The Wild Card

Back in the day, living a successful life was all about staying
in the safe zone. The average person’s happiness was directly correlated to how
well they were able to follow other people's rules and in other people’s
footsteps. 

But life isn’t like that anymore. The most successful people in the
modern world are those that can adapt, evolve, and change. Leaving your comfort
zone isn’t crazy anymore. It’s crazy not to. This goes for business, travel,
knowledge, and even sex.

If you never leave your comfort zone you will become one of
those people no one wants to sit next to at weddings. Because you won’t have
anything interesting to talk about. And if you don’t make an effort to become a
more interesting, less ignorant person, not only will you lousy company for
other people, you’ll be lousy company for yourself.

Therefore, it's never been more important to expose yourself to
different music, books, ideas, places, and people.

Of course, as far as sex goes, I'm not implying you should do
people or things you aren’t comfortable with. Rather, I simply mean that it’s
important to keep an open mind.

And nothing forces you to open your mind like a wild card lover.

What’s a wild card lover?

It’s just someone you never considered before.

For example, I believe that sexual preference is a continuum. On
one side, you have people that are homosexual and have always known they prefer
their own gender. On the other side, you have people that have never had a
homosexual thought in their life.

Personally, I believe we’re all a little bit gay. Fifty Shades
of Gay, if you will.

Now maybe you have a clear place on the scale. Then again, maybe
you’re in a gray area. There’s nothing wrong with that.

Like many women, I absolutely adore male company and the funny
quirks of the male physique. However, that didn’t make me resistant to a
beautiful woman’s seduction when the opportunity presented itself.

Turns out I’m somewhere on the continuum where I wouldn’t
necessarily seek out the sexual company of a woman, but if the right woman
comes along, I wouldn’t say no either. Also, I might occasionally touch myself
and think about Sienna Miller. So what? I’m not sorry. I like to think she’d be
flattered; Maybe she’d even give me a proper British snog if she knew.

Many summers ago, I had an affair with a woman in Spain and- for
the record- I firmly believe it didn’t make me any gayer than I already was.
What it did make me was a more passionate, sensual, and attentive lover. It
also made me feel differently about being in my own skin. In a good way.

Before that, I had always focused on my imperfections when I
looked in the mirror. I saw the cellulite on my thighs, the stretch marks I was
sure no one else had.

But I learned men and lesbians don’t see women that way. They
see soft, inviting curves, strength, and sexiness. And sleeping with a woman
taught me how to focus on that beauty. It taught me how to see myself by
candlelight instead of always under the cheap fluorescent glare of a dressing
room.

Even if you’re not inclined to explore women sexually, it’s
worth learning how to look at yourself through more forgiving eyes. Because the
more difficult you find it to focus on beauty, the harder you must try.

Of course, your wild card lover doesn’t have to be a woman.

If you grew up in a homogenous neighborhood, there are probably
all kinds of people who you view as implicitly “other.” This initial world view
isn’t your fault in the beginning when you’re just a product of your
environment. However, if you remain closed off to people from different
backgrounds, you are limiting the person- and the lover- you might become.

For instance, I dated a black guy once… and then a few more
after that.

And since I haven’t sugar coated anything yet, allow me to start
by saying, yes, the rumors are true. On top of that, many black guys are
skilled, enthusiastic lovers.

And it’s refreshing to discover that there are men out there who
aren’t buying the bullshit that a woman has to look hungry to be sexy. In fact,
in West Africa, one of the biggest compliments a guy can give you is that
you’re shaped like a Coca Cola bottle.

Now I know I’m stereotyping here, but I’ve done my research on
this one. Heck, I’ve even been to the Motherland, and I don’t mean Mississippi.
But don’t take my word for it. Make up your own mind.

And if you’re not attracted to black guys or women, so what? Who
cares? They’re just examples.

The point is the more narrow minded you are, the more narrow
your sexual experience will be.

So be open to trying new things. Maybe you try something and you
like it. Maybe you don’t. At least you lived a little bit. At least you won’t
wake up in sixty years having wasted your youth worrying about what other
people would think if you spread your legs before date number three.

Life’s too short to live by someone else’s rules. So make your
own. Do what feels good and make love to people that interest you.

Honestly, some of the best one night stands of my life were with
people with whom the language barriers were so great we could barely understand
each other. But that doesn’t matter because love has its own language.

And anyone can become fluent in it.

When I got home there were two envelopes on my bed. One was from
Penn State. The other was from Loyola Maryland.

I put them out of my mind a few weeks ago when I got into Miami
of Ohio. It was a weight off my shoulders to get in somewhere. And lots of
people from my school were planning on going there because it was a good
school, and it wasn’t too far away.

Plus, the student body was attractive. Which I found kind of
intimidating when we visited. But Carol didn't even notice. She was too busy
going on about how well maintained the cafeteria was. I suggested that maybe it
wasn’t always so immaculate. Maybe the tablecloths were just there to impress
the visitors that were arriving by the busload that weekend. But she was having
none of it. Probably because she’d love to have me so close.

But tablecloths weren’t very high on my list of priorities.

Of course, a lot of them would be satisfied anywhere: late night
parties, interesting classes, a pretty campus. But Miami fell short on two big
criteria. For one thing, it wasn’t near a city, and I was worried I’d go crazy
if I couldn’t get to one every now and then. Cities made me feel sane and
grounded. I think it had something to do with how dwarfed I felt around
skyscrapers. Like I was part of something bigger. I know a starry sky does that
for a lot of people, but for me nothing beat standing at the bottom of a big
glass tower.

The other problem was that I wanted to keep playing lacrosse. But
only if I could play at a high level. Because it was such a big commitment. I
didn’t love it enough to play just for the sake of it. I loved it because I
liked to win. And playing lacrosse at Penn State or Loyola would make me feel
like a winner.

I sat down and held the smooth envelopes in my hand.

One of them was heavy. One of them wasn’t.

I know a lot of people would have ripped them open instantly,
but I wasn’t that kind of person. I needed to collect myself and take a few
deep breaths. After all, my entire future could be altered by what was on the
other side of that fresh adhesive.

I knew a few of my classmates were already planning on going to
Penn State. Not many, but a few. And like the Notre Dame kids, they all had
legacy strings to pull. So it wasn’t a matter of finding out whether you got in.
It was a matter of finding out how soon the school wanted your first payment.

But Loyola was different. No one was going to Loyola. I don’t
know why. Probably because they didn’t visit. If they had, they would’ve seen
what I saw- a gorgeous campus full of really normal looking people.

Of course, the fact that no one else was going there both
exhilarated and terrified me. From my understanding, Penn was so big it didn’t matter
if there were a few former classmates knocking around. You still might never
see them again. But it’s not the same as going it alone. And by “it” I mean the
biggest journey of my life to date.

I exhaled and tore open the letter from Penn.

“Dear Kate, We are writing to inform you blah blah… skimming…
Thank you for applying to Penn State… Blah blah skimming skimming… waitlisted.
Waitlisted!”

I was delighted. Not as delighted as I would’ve been if I’d
gotten in, but not as bummed as I would’ve been if I’d gotten rejected. Being
waitlisted wasn’t a rejection. It was a maybe! Maybe they would still want me!

But I knew I shouldn’t get my hopes up. Especially before I knew
what news the other envelope held.

I turned my attention to the heavier letter, stuck my pointer
finger under the flap into the open corner, and slid it across. I pulled out
the folded letter, and when I opened it, a greyhound sticker fell in my lap.

My lips moved with the words as I read them.

“Dear Kate… Thank you for applying… blah blah skimming…
CONGRATULATE YOU… skimming skimming blah blah… SCHOLARSHIP.”

Holy shit. I must’ve read the letter three times before I processed
what it said. Not only did they want me to go to their school and play
lacrosse, but they wanted to
pay
me to go to their school and play
lacrosse.

I fell back on the bed and clutched the letter to my chest. I
couldn’t believe it. Not only was I definitely going to college, but I had
options
.
The word reverberated in my soul. Options! That’s why I had studied so hard in
the first place, wasn’t it? So that I would have options?!

Surely, that’s the most Carol and Dawn ever could’ve wanted for
me, and now their wish had come true. Maybe they hadn’t fucked up so bad after
all. Maybe neither had I. It felt like my future- everything- was all going to
work out after all.

I was so excited I couldn’t move.

Which was okay because I didn’t feel like telling anyone just
yet. I wanted it to be my happy secret for a few minutes. I rolled over onto my
stomach and unfolded the other papers. There was one about dorm selection and one
about meal plan selection. Which I planned to study carefully when I calmed
down.

There was even one about freshman orientation that made me roll
my eyes. Cause I knew the drill. Finally, there was a formal letter from the
lacrosse coach explaining what I would be a part of if I said “yes.”

I mumbled yes to myself the entire time I was reading the
material. I could already see myself in the white and green uniform. I could
imagine grabbing a quick dinner in the busy cafeteria after practice with my
teammates before returning to my perfectly decorated dorm room to study
something fascinating. I could picture myself getting dressed up for class and
holding my notes to my chest while I walked across the campus.

Then I got scared.

Because it was far away and I wouldn’t know anybody. I would
have to start over with nothing but a clean slate.

But I could tell by the way my insides were spinning that it was
a good kind of scared. The first good kind of scared I’d felt in a long time.

And I had no idea whether or not I could do it. All I knew was
that there was only one way to find out.

Lover #5:
The Less Experienced Lover

It is inevitable in any sexually active woman’s life that she
will come across someone who has less experience than she does. And while she
might not have the opportunity to learn new things in this situation, being the
more experienced lover is still a position of great responsibility.

I took a guy’s virginity once. He was an old friend and a
colleague, and after a few drinks one thing led to another. He was also an
athlete and in excellent shape. So I let him do most of the work, though I like
to think I made it worth his while.

The rug burns on his knees the next day were the stuff of
legend, or at least, the stuff of a pretty amusing inside joke between the two
of us.

Obviously, a woman with my extensive experience has had the
upper hand on more than one occasion. However, in times like these, it is
important to consider what it’s like to be the more nervous party and make the
other person comfortable.

For example, fast and furious isn’t an appropriate sexual
setting in this case. Plus, chances are that the other person will remember
every last detail more vividly and for much longer than you will. So take your
time. Make it special for them. Maybe even try and teach them something new
like your previous sexual partners so kindly did with you.

But I’d also like to include a warning here. Not all men enjoy
sex recreationally. In order to be a sexually responsible woman, you must not
use your powers for evil.