To worship women

I dreamed last night that Peggy and I were having a threesome with another woman and my emotions went from sublimity to despair when the other woman had to leave. Part of me has felt abandoned at least since I was a child and the first woman I wanted to sleep with (not that I knew what sex was) ended her visit with my family. I was lonely even then, and her smile, her lap, and her arms around me lifted me to paradise. I convinced myself that she was magic, that she could read my heart, that she returned my love, and that she would never leave me. I was not a child to cry, but I’ve never forgotten my anguish at her departure, or the fact that she laughed at my tears. Whatever else about me was immature at age four or five, my ability to feel despondent was as strong as it has ever been.

My dream represents a lifestyle that I once had, but now, except for Peggy, all those women and all those times are gone forever, and there is a sadness about that, although I wouldn’t go back if I could. I became attached too easily, yet no sooner had I made love to one woman than my sights would be set on another. Women were my drug, and I wanted them above all else. I would walk away from any other thing to have sex with a woman whom I considered an angel or a goddess, and my world was populated by angels and goddesses. I divided them by name, and I wanted one of each. I kept a list of the states they were from, and after I had sex with an Austrian, I started a list of countries too.

I imagined women to whom I was attracted to be of a different substance than other women. Their liquids were like holy water, and their touch made me feel as if I had entered a universe of eternal magic in which I wished more than anything I could remain. I, who couldn’t believe in God despite my best efforts to do so, worshipped women despite my best efforts to not do so. It was probably my belief in their magic that drew them to me. They interpreted it as the supreme compliment, but the downside of a man seeing a woman as more than human is the pain that comes when she disappoints him.

I never went to bed with Patty, but I still think about her after the passage of these 40 years since she sold me a used Datsun. She agreed to have some work done on it, and when I asked her to make a list of the work and sign it, she looked as if she might cry, and said that she had considered me (who she had only known for an hour) to be one man for whom trust was still possible. I was stricken to have hurt her and said that the list would not be necessary, but when I went back to have the work done, no one knew what I was talking about. When I told them that my salesperson had been Patty, they sighed knowingly and said that Patty had moved to another dealership the same day she sold me that Datsun. Even so, I still remember her with a smile because she had a smile that made me smile. She was magic.

Then there was Memory. She was the wife of a friend’s brother and had come from Missouri to help him settle his parents’ estate. Her smile was like Patty’s in that it could bring light to the darkest night. I wanted desperately to be alone with her before she went back to St. Louis, but it wasn’t possible. Ten years later, my friend moved to be near his brother, and I went to see him, presumably, but really to see her. My friend had no bed for me, so naturally I stayed with Memory and her husband. As soon as he left for work the next day, I told her of my adoration. When she found her voice, she asked me to tell her again, this time on my knees. Memory’s husband was more interested in alcohol than sex; she was feeling old at forty; and she was distressed about having gained ten pounds, so she saw me as a godsend to her ego. I stayed another day waiting for her to find time when we could be alone again, but I became bored and left hours before it was to happen. I’ve regretted that ever since.

I think I could list every woman I had sex with or very much wanted to have sex with. I hated being a slave to beings whom I forever had to persuade to give me that which I so desperately needed, but I saw no option. After she got used to the idea of an open marriage, Peggy seemed okay with it (as she later did with a group marriage), but it got to be too much, yet she didn’t even know about most of my one-time liaisons. The ones she did know about were even worse, because I often became attached to women who weren’t attached to me. Some of them had even chosen me because they imagined that my marriage would keep me from becoming attached, and that would keep them safe from having to deal with anything too intense. The opposite would also occur in that it was the woman who became the more attached. Such women would invariably try to win me away from Peggy, but there was no way I was going to give up the one certain anchor to my uncertain life, yet I would grieve when such women finally ended our relationship.

Lynn lived with her husband at a small rural commune in Tennessee. They had their own house, and I stayed with them for two nights. On the first night, her screams during lovemaking kept me awake. When she asked me the next morning how I slept, I told her that I had spent the night wanting to be with her. She suggested that I sleep with her and her husband that night. I said I had rather have her to myself, but she said it was a take it or leave it offer, so I took it. Bob and I took turns with her throughout the night with brief periods of sleep in-between. I envisioned a lasting friendship with both of them, but I soon learned that Lynn was as threatened by affection out of bed as she was enamored of sex in bed. I took Peggy to see her and Bob in the hope that a foursome might result, but Peggy had no interest in him. Like most women, Peggy needs more than looks in a sexual partner, whereas if I consider a woman beautiful, I immediately conclude that she is also possessed of every other virtue that matters to me.

Now, it all seems like a dream, sometimes heavenly, but more often like a dark pit of bottomless desire. I went from the equivalent of being content to get drunk four times a year to wanting to get drunk anytime and anywhere. Sometimes, there would be another couple, and the other man would instigate a foursome. Once, the four of us were side by side on the living room floor, and had just started our lovemaking when I reached out and touched the other man on the back. I did this because I was feeling playful and affectionate, but his wife had been led into having sex with me mostly to please him, so she began to cry and, after putting on her blouse, ran out the door.

On another occasion, the woman of the other couple was Peggy’s best friend. I had long since wanted to have sex with her, and her husband felt the same way about Peggy. Unfortunately, Peggy was repulsed by him, so while he chased her around the house, I nailed his wife as quickly as possible on the bathroom floor because I knew this was one party that was going to come to a bad end early.

I never was much of a salesman, and seducing women is salesmanship, but I did my best to learn the formula, and to use it as effectively as possible given my near terror of rejection. I discovered that most women like men who are open about their feelings, so I was open about my feelings (this was easy for me). They like a man who can cry, so I learned to cry, and this too came easily. They like a man who is playful and has a good sense of humor, and I was both of these things. Mostly, they like a man who likes them, pays attention to them, and thinks they’re beautiful, so I worshipped them, hung onto their every word, and said they were angels who were all the more beautiful for not having wings. Nothing I said was a lie, yet it was still a ploy, a formula that I knew I must follow if I wanted to get one hand beneath a woman’s blouse and the other up her thigh.

I only remember one time when I lied shamelessly. It was on a canoe trip with twenty other people, and I was smitten by one of the women who wasn't with a man. I made sure we ended up in the same canoe, and I soon realized that the attraction was mutual. She cursed with every breath, and she asked me if I minded that. I said, “No, it just proves that you have an independent spirit.” She also smoked cigarettes and asked me how I felt about kissing a smoker. “I don’t mind at all that you smoke,” I lied as I pictured her mouth as a dirty ash tray. I don’t know why we didn’t choose to fall behind the others, but instead we raced ahead and made love behind a log. We were just putting on our clothes on when the other canoes appeared, so there was no mistaking what we had done. Later, it became chilly and started to rain. For some reason, we had to leave the canoes and walk a fair distance through the rain, and we all became cold and hungry. This woman whom I had so recently wanted enough that I would lie to have her now held no interest to me. In fact, I didn’t even want to talk to her. It was the only time I ever felt that way, but I was disgusted by her vulgarity and cigarettes, and by the fact that I had lied.

Some women had sex with me to spite their husbands who they never planned to tell. One woman assured me that her husband would kill both of us, and I believed her, yet even this didn’t stop me from having sex with her in the woods and sending her home with muddy underwear. Everything else in life seemed a poor second to my sexual conquests. Peggy told me the other day that I am less needy of women now because I’ve grown more mature, but I give the credit to hormones. It’s not that I don’t want to have sex with strangers, but that I no longer want it with an ache that never gives me more than a few moments peace, and I dont want it enough to go to the trouble to get it. I used to wish I were sexless so I could be rid of my obsession, yet it plagued me for decades. Along with chronic pain and sleep apnea, being obsessed with women was the greatest trial of my life, and the best I can say for it is that I came away with my marriage intact and that I never caught anything. I’m also glad that I wasnt anymore obsessed than I was because I might have even ended up paying for sex, and that would have been the absolute bottom for me because I saw sex as more about being accepted on the inside than about getting to the inside. I wanted to be wanted. I wanted the magic that I thought women had and I didnt.

I remember working with my father to replace a roof, or a bathroom floor, or to paint a house, and in my memory, I’m perpetually tortured by the thought that I’m trading the lesser for the greater because ALL I REALLY WANT is to have sex with lots of women before the day arrives when my desirability is lost. Fortunately, when that day arrived, I no longer wanted women like I once did. At 63, younger women are friendlier (thinking, I suppose, that age makes me safe), and women above fifty are more likely to approach me than I am to approach them. Because I am more nearly free than I’ve ever been, I don’t care if they approach me or not, or even if they find me attractive or not, and I especially don’t like it when I think they’re scoping me out the way I used to scope them out.

The woman in my dream had me in the old way. She turned the darkness to light, the cold to warmth, and the commonplace to the poetic. I became so absorbed in her that time and the universe disappeared and heaven opened. She was a higher high than any drug, and I became an instant addict only to fall into withdrawal when she said she had to go. This explains the melancholy that has overtaken me. I want to rise to that heaven again, but then I remember the hell that I went through to get there. Schopenhauer wrote that pleasure isn’t, as we imagine, a positive good but a respite from longing, and that was certainly what sex meant to me. Not sex by itself because I did, after all, have Peggy, but sex with different women. The more women, the more magic until, as I thought, one day I would go up and never come down. I used to wonder how many women it would take before I could absorb enough magic to feel complete, and I decided that 300 would be enough. 

Now, I remember with fondness the smells and the stickiness of having made love the whole night through after which I would feel completely satiated for hours. The only other times I knew such freedom for more than a few moments were when I was asleep, sick, drunk, or else shivering with cold or aching with thirst. At those times, I would be aware that even my desire for sex was gone, and it would be good in the same way that you don’t mind having a headache nearly so much after you’ve dropped a hammer on your toe.

The song might make sense or it might appear absurd, but in either case it fits what I'm feeling.


Helen said...

.. I have FINALLY exhaled!!!

The Tusk said...


The Tusk said...

Domnei, by James Branch Cabel

kylie said...

i havent had sex in years and what i had before was fairly unsatisfying. i truly despair of ever having any more.
you are right about women (as if i need to tell you) there is a quote that says "if you can make a woman laugh, you're halfway up her leg" make her feel special and you have the other half covered.

i'm glad you are free but sad you had to go through so much agony to get there

lotta joy said...

Okay STDs? No pregnancies? Who said the bible is dead! This is a miracle!

But, seriously Snow, I have a question. If I had asked this of my brother, he would have answered honestly, but he died so you're it:

I've heard that in the dark all cats are the same color. ARE women the same? I mean, in the dark. *cough*

I doubt I could ask anyone with more experience than you.

Can you tell I consider you my brother?

After 12 years of celibacy due to my first husband's withdrawal from me, I finally lost all urges. If you don't use it you lose it, must be true.

But, in all those years, I was never tempted to stray. Now I wish I had.

Charles Gramlich said...

I'm feeling quite provincial after that post. I'm not a man of the world, nor even of the states it would appear. :)

Elephant's Child said...

'It was the only time I ever felt that way, but I was disgusted by her vulgarity and cigarettes, and by the fact that I had lied.'
Which disgusted you most?

Stafford Ray said...

Was Helen there too?!

Zuzana said...

What an intriguing read. I love your raw honesty.
I think it is great Peggy stuck by you.;) I am trying to imagine if I could accept having an open marriage. I mean, could I accept that my husband sleeps with other women? Not just one, but so many I woudl loose count? I am not sure I could, as I value the fact that in bed in he is mine only and I am his. To me that is what is holy.;)
Still, I find it absolutely fascinating to read this about you, it is like a sneak peak into another world.
And yes, that song makes sense.;)

Snowbrush said...

"I'm feeling quite provincial after that post. I'm not a man of the world, nor even of the states it would appear. :)"

Picture being come on to by your ideal of feminine beauty and having every confidence that nothing bad could possibly come of going to bed with her (you wouldn't catch anything, she wouldn't get pregnant, and your wife would never know), are you certain you would say no? If you say you are certain, I would worry about you, that is if I believed you, which I wouldn't. Men are simply evolutionarily different than women, and monogamy is unnatural to them. It has its good points, to be sure, but it's not how they're programmed to behave.

"i'm glad you are free but sad you had to go through so much agony to get there"

It's not what I did, but what being so obsessed prevented me from doing--or at least doing wholeheartedly--that I regret.

"Okay STDs? No pregnancies?"

No, no STDs, and I had a vasectomy in my twenties, so that took care of pregnancies.

"I've heard that in the dark all cats are the same color. ARE women the same?"

Maybe that's why I sometimes see a scuzzy looking pregnant woman and wonder who the hell had been able to get sufficiently aroused to have done it to her.

"Can you tell I consider you my brother? "

But of course. Thank you. I'm very fond of you too, and I particularly wondered how you would react to this post.

"Which disgusted you most?"

I don't know if you really care, but I don't have an answer. It was a bad situation in many ways. We were "caught" by people who knew us; she smoked; she cursed like a sailor; I lied to her; and I was cold.

"Was Helen there too?!"

No, damn it.

PhilipH said...

Human sexuality is complex, extremely complex. Just think of the 'varieties' in life: men who desire sex with men; women with women; bi-sexuals; paedophiles ... and others no doubt.
You, Snowy, could be dubbed a 'sexaholic' - which, to me, seems to be both natural and unnatural at the same time.
I would bet that most MEN, given the chance, would jump into bed with an attractive woman who came on to them. But how many men have the nerve to pursue women the way YOU did? Certainly not I - too scared of rejection, that's me!
A most interesting and honest post, as expected from you, Sir.

Elephant's Child said...

Snow I am having a bit of a hissy fit here. I comment on almost all of your posts because I care, because I am interested, and because I want to know. I thought you knew all of those things.

Helen said...

Snow .. Stafford ~~
I've been sitting here in Bend Oregon laughing my 71-year old head off!!!

Snowbrush said...

"I comment on almost all of your posts because I care, because I am interested, and because I want to know. I thought you knew all of those things."

I do know, but you surely realize that this is a post that would strike a lot of people--especially women--as portraying a horrifyingly immoral lifestyle, and it's certainly possible to care about someone and still disapprove of something that did.

"I've been sitting here in Bend Oregon laughing my 71-year old head off!!!"

Stafford is gay, so let's not talk about him, darling. Let's just talk about us. Actually, I used to wish that I had been gay, because I figured that life would be easier that way, at least in terms of sex. For heterosexual men, women can sometimes seem like, not just another gender, but another species, and I thought that gay men would be better able to relate to where other men were coming from, sexually, and therefore they would require less maneuvering to get them into bed.

"A most interesting and honest post, as expected from you, Sir."

Oh, thank you, Philip. I really appreciate that.

Elephant's Child said...

Yes I did know that some people might have had difficulties. Some people have difficulties with most of your posts for a variety of reasons. Sometimes that is the point of your posts - to deliberately stir people up, and perhaps force them to think. Or at least I believe that sometimes your posts are a deliberate tease.

That lifestyle is not for me, but this post is not about me.

Snowbrush said...

"That lifestyle is not for me..."

Then I guess I'll cancel my plane ticket. Darn!

"I believe that sometimes your posts are a deliberate tease."

I would interpret the word tease to mean provoking someone merely for whatever pleasure one might get from upsetting them (and this might not be what you meant). I would be furious if someone did that to me in regard to something that was important in my life, so I would never do it to anyone else. I just wrote the following on Stafford's blog about my reasons for writing: "my goal is to explore thoughts, feelings, beliefs, personal history, etc. for purposes of making sense out of it, critiquing it, teaching other people about it, creating literary art with it, or deciding how I feel or what I think about it..." I really don't like it when I upset people, so I often tone things down as much as I can without losing the point that I'm trying to get across.

Elephant's Child said...

Ok. I apologise. I had thought that some of your posts were/are written knowing that they would upset some people and written as a challenge for them to begin to question their beliefs. Not just to upset people, but to attempt to make people re-examine their prejudices. I will go away and let other people put in their two cents worth as well.
PS: If ever you were in Oz, I would love to meet you.

Stafford Ray said...

"Stafford is gay". Damn! I should have been counselled long ago, before I became deluded that I loved women, followed by the loss of my houses, (three times), a business and a fortune in high heeled shoes. If I had known I was gay back then, I could have spent that fortune on heels for myself!
Is is too late?

Snowbrush said...

"Ok. I apologise. I had thought that some of your posts were/are written knowing that they would upset some people and written as a challenge for them to begin to question their beliefs. Not just to upset people, but to attempt to make people re-examine their prejudices."

You wouldn't need to apologize even if you were wrong, but you were right. We just define the word "tease" differently. I am ever aware that what I have to say about religion, in particular, will not be encountered by my religious readers anywhere else, so, yes indeed, I'm trying to educate them. I don't expect them to change their beliefs (when your faith is great enough, reason and evidence have zero influence over you), but, in nearly all of the U.S., being religious is still the default position, and the attitude is that if you don't accept religion, then you had damned well better keep quiet about it. Because I see religion as a destructive force, there is no way I'm keeping quiet.

"If ever you were in Oz, I would love to meet you."

Count on it. However, I ventured two freeway hours from home last week, and that represented a major outing for me, so crossing oceans isn't likely.

"I should have been counselled long ago, before I became deluded that I loved women"

It was that "Delayed Gratification" poem that threw me since it was written about a male lover, and since I mistook--due to the lovers' musculature combined with my failure to look closely enough--the illustration to contain two men.

"the loss of my houses, (three times), a business and a fortune in high heeled shoes. If I had known I was gay back then, I could have spent that fortune on heels for myself! Is is too late?"

If you lived in the U.S., and your losses had occurred since 1993, and they had fallen within a ten year period, your losses would be recoverable under the "Recoverable Losses Marriage Amendment." Of course, you live in New South Wales, which lies south of Old North Wales, so I really don't know whether you could get anything back or not.

Mim said...

My first long term serious boyfriend nailed every woman he saw. I never understood it till now. Very good read Snow, very good

rhymeswithplague said...

"what I have to say about religion, in particular, will not be encountered by my religious readers anywhere else"

Don't flatter yourself, or as my mother used to say, don't break your arm patting yourself on the back. Your views are the views of atheists everywhere, and my life hasn't been that sheltered. Can you say Richard Dawkins? Christopher Hitchens?

Snowbrush said...

"My first long term serious boyfriend nailed every woman he saw. I never understood it till now."

I really can't say how much generalizing is reasonable, but I would guess that he and I would have been more alike than different in this regard.

"Can you say Richard Dawkins? Christopher Hitchens?"

I know I've heard the names, but I can't place them... Are they that Pentecostal preaching duo that trains penguins to juggle crucifixes? Seriously, may I suggest William Lobdell and Dan Barker as examples of people who I (a decidedly right brain individual) find more interesting because they more often write from the heart rather than from the head. I would also recommend the FFRF magazine and especially its young atheist essays (I'll send you some back copies if you would like). I suspect that, in general, the most outspoken atheists are girls and women, and the attacks that are waged against them, not just by individual Christians, but by overwhelming numbers of Christians in their vicinities, is astounding, and speaks volumes about the tribalism present in American Christianity.

Although I have read a great many books by a great many atheists, I haven't read most of them thoroughly because they tend to be repetitious, which is another reason why I prefer personal accounts as opposed to purely scientific and intellectual arguments. The former is primarily what I write, and if I break my arm patting my back, I am sufficiently convinced of the value of my own writing to think it's deserved. If I didn't believe this--that is if I thought my efforts were second rate or worse--I couldn't keep writing. My supposition that my Christian readers, by and large, don't encounter well-thought out objections to Christianity elsewhere still stands. This is one reason I'm glad that I don't have a purely atheistic blog. As it is, I write about atheism too much to suit many of my readers, yet the fact that I also write about other things keeps them coming around, whereas they almost certainly wouldn't if I offered a steady diet of atheism. I think it's also valuable for religious people to have an atheist friend for the same reason that it's valuable for heterosexuals to have a homosexual friend, i.e. those who hate an entire group of people are less likely to have a personal relationship with any of those people. As for you reading atheist literature, I'm delighted, and wouldn't have guessed it of you, although I wouldn't have bet the farm against it either because I know you have a fair amount of leisure in your life and that your curiosity extends into a great many areas.

Snowbrush said...

Tusk, I'll look into Domnei.

Rhymes, when I wrote about patting my own back, I realized as I did so that your comment wasn't aimed at my writing per se but rather at my claim that I was providing a viewpoint that many people wouldn't otherwise receive.

Strayer said...

Peggy must be a saint, to let your penis free roam that way, and not keep it indoor only. Glad you didn't drag home STD's to share. I'm glad you enjoyed doing all those women. Seems kind of sad to me, for some reason, like your life was driven by it, like an addict.

All Consuming said...

This post doesn't surprise me at all. You always come across as a proper dirty dog. I assume the only reason I am safe is because I live in another country. I'll bring a sharp stick when I come and visit.
Hahahaha. No, but really, it's another fascinating facet of you shared to us all. I would hate to have such little control over my yearnings, again and again, but I know how it feels to do so.

Anonymous said...

A very honest post. Thank you. said...

~~~Dear Snow,
This is better than "50 Shades of Grey." It's a shame you didn't write the book before she did.

Your writing is MUCH Better~!

Thanks for your raw honesty.

Myrna R. said...

I love your honesty Snow. This is the most intimate post I've ever read.

I don't think I could stand an open marriage. Guess I'm not secure enough... yet. Ha. After 43 years, I doubt things will change much. But we never know do we? I love the song. I'll hear it with a little different perspective from now on.

And I'm so glad you liked my photo. Nice that you want it. I'm so flattered.

Snowbrush said...

"Peggy must be a saint, to let your penis free roam that way, and not keep it indoor only."

You think she had the power to do otherwise, do you? Keep me like a house-cat as opposed to letting me roam like an indoor/outdoor cat?

"I'll bring a sharp stick when I come and visit."

Ooooh, baby. Are you wanting me to beat you, or do you plan to beat me. I could go either way, but I would prefer the former (it would be a very small stick, of course).

"My inner chick," I can't help but note that you have an outer chick too, and for that I am glad as your blog would be oddly named if it belonged to man, although there are men who could so name it, my father having been one.

"After 43 years"

We will have been married 42 years this December.

"And I'm so glad you liked my photo. Nice that you want it. I'm so flattered."

(A photo she took, not a photo of herself in case you're wondering). Yes, Myrna, I love dark clouds over mountains. Here, the peaks turn gun barrel blue, and they are never more beautiful or forbidding. Winter is when they're at their best that way, but winter is also when I don't want to drive into the mountains because it's too slippery and cold for me, thank you very much.

Bruno Laliberté said...

This post somewhat resonates with me as I've often boasted that I've traveled the world without leaving my bed...
Sex is still an obsession, but no longer a need, if that makes sense. I want more than what any partner could ever give me, given my past experiences. Sex is no longer enough...

I don't know...

CreekHiker / HollysFolly said...

Still trying to catch my breath! What a life you have lived!

A Plain Observer said...

You certainly lived an interesting and unusual life. Maybe not unusual, but very interesting

Heidrun Khokhar, KleinsteMotte said...

That you can remember so much and such detail must be tough as that age thing hits more and more.
I'm not so much into the sexual drives of humans. I am more interested in what sort of creativity they can produce.
You sure did share your secrets.