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About The Single Opera Lady:
Men have emotions. Men have empathy. Men have sympathy. Men have penises. I see men and women as not being of the same species. It is not expected that gaps and differences as wide as theirs can come together without misery and/or conflict. Marriage is restrictive and passive. It is full of locked doors, lies, treachery, and sacrifices. Why do people say the words “I do,” to a life of misery? (Man1) I’ve had a schoolgirl crush on him for more than ten years. One early evening before dark; surrounded by many people, my liquored-filled body gave my lips the courage to press up against his. His full soft lips made love to my mouth. My body’s lustful juices saturated my panties instantly. For the longest time after this, the empty hours of my nights were made pleasant by my recreating that moment. I wanted so much to be everywhere he was. After a second kiss that I instigated, I wanted to fall to my knees, treat his entire body to my touch and sexual rewards while begging him to allow me to be the elegant well-mannered lady who stands beside him, and the uninhibited lover who he keeps behind closed doors. When he sees me, he
addresses me as wife. He has been married three times. I playfully tell
him that I want to be wife number six. One would think that by this time
he would have reached an age where his need to share himself with so many
have decreased and he would be able to appreciate the comfort and the love
that I’ve ached to shower him with. The business he patronizes, and
private parties he is invited, depend on him to bring life to their
establishment. He is funny and always accommodating. He makes women feel
special. Everywhere he goes there are women like me, waiting for her turn
to be with him.
Although I have never
laid beside him naked, I believe myself to love him. I felt safe with him.
He is kind. His wonderful personality and caring nature welcome and
protect me. He is a perfect gentleman.
My family believed that
I was loved by him when the truth is only in my dreams, is where he is
everything to me. I want him still. When his body stands next to mine, I
perspire heavily.
At an elaborate formal
party given by my family, he asked me to dance. The heat from his penis
and its hardness poking me was my silent victory. Still, I allow myself to
believe that he leaves open a tiny place in his heart for
me.
Those lucky women that
he legally titled wife stayed with him for only a short time. Did they try
to change him? After all, they had to know that he is care free and
undependable. None of this would matter if he accepted me I would have
loved him for his heart. I would not have tried to change him. Besides, he
knows right from wrong and if he feels there is a need to change; he will
change.
(Man 2)
I kept this man lusting after me for six years
because of my sexual deviants. The many stories of how he shared his body
with women entertained me, disgusted me and intrigued me.
Our relationship allowed him to enjoy this life
without question or ridicule. He is a charismatic attractive man who has a
lot to offer the world. He cooks often and well. I enjoyed his
intelligence and his uninhibited sex. I became a regular fixture in his
life because of my body’s insatiable craving to be ravished. I explored
his body and he explored mine. I was comfortable with our relationship. I
had an open invitation to his body and his boat. I would exit his life to
spend time in relationships that seamed promising and re-enter his bed
without an explanation. He expressed often of his luck. He was happy with
his body being used to excite, titillate, and grant my desire and my need
for strong orgasms. Now he talks often of us needing to marry. I will not
say I do to him. He changed the game with out proving himself to be worthy
of mine committing my sex and myself to only
him.
(Man
3) He is an x-pro football player with two x-wives and now
me, as his x-servicing partner. His laziness handicaps him. He
appears to enjoy his drink more than the company of women. My not wanting
to marry him does not give me reason to voice my disrespect and
disapproval of what he is allowing himself to become. His greatness is his
voice and how he commands the English language. In my eyes, his voice is
all that remains strong. It expresses his discontent and anger. He talks
negative about women, when it is he who has many faults. (Man
3) He is my ecstasy; a happy drug that heightened my senses. The
comforts he provides, his touches and words, lingers long after he is
gone. He accepts my imperfections. My satisfied heart motivates me to cook
eye appealing meals, write, and create art on canvases, walls, and chairs.
The world sees my greatness because of him. On the phone his voice makes
me melt. My insides tingled when he stands close. More than anything, I
love him. His body is so very beautiful. His manhood is healthy and more
than adequate in size. He teases me with his tongue. He rapes me with his
hands. His sex is wicked. His lovemaking is complete. He learned my heart
before introducing his hardness to my body. I had concluded that his
reasons for making me wait were because his manhood was short in stature
like his height, but
I was so very
wrong.
He is intelligent. His
words are few. Although he hears me when I speak, he does not share his
life and his sadness with me.
Without words, he taught
me so much about men. Other than the word yes, men are intolerant of the
sound of a woman’s voice.
I often talk of the love I believed myself to have for him but he will not hear me. Although he has made mention on more than two occasions that I am ninety percent of what he wants in a wife, he chose her. I am sure that I love him more than she. I do not care that he is liberal with his sex. I just want to be with him. I will take him anyway that I can get him. A walk in the park with him and his dog is better than chocolate and filet mignon. (Man 4)
We met soon after his divorce. I really liked him. I
mean I really, really liked him. I knew I was not what he wanted. I cried
in silence when he talked of being a marketable man. And he is. The woman
who marries him will have a complete package.
Being close to him
frightened me as much as it excited me. I perspired in his company. I
loved him even though his attitude was sometimes scary. I feared with
every conversation that I wanted to have; that one word said by me would
cause him to despise me. I am not a runway model. My insecurities lead me
to believe that my breasts were not adequate in size, I was not smart
enough, or pretty enough. I want so much to recreate myself to be that
understated elegant lady who would make him melt with just a thought. I
worked hard because I wanted to be the woman, who stood beside him in
public, but I did not have enough brain cells, and the plastic surgeons
discouraged me. My head told me that this man would destroy my heart. And
he did. He rejected me without learning my heart. He has not been in my
bed for more than nine years, and still my vindictive heart and my
uneducated brain stays in constant conflict with one another. My heart
does not care that he did not love me. It wanted him to be the man I
marry. My head told me at the start, I was stupid.
Still, I receive joy
from revisiting the good in each man who shared his body with me. I am
trying to step out into the world to find another victim for my heart and
my body, but my insecurities paralyze me. I am restless and emotionally
damaged behind dating. Men bore easily. I am having a difficult time
picturing myself locked behind the doors of a marriage with their
impatience, their ugliness, their greed, the lies, and their egos men. I
love being in love, but I do not believe that a man’s love will last. The
sacrifices of a wife are many, but single, believe they have the right to
have us all.
These four men are not
characters in my book; they are a real part of my heart and life. I gave
my body to those men choosing to remain ignorant to the truth about love,
sex, commitment, and men.
I hate sex without
commitment, but I do not know how to get close to a man’s heart without
first allowing him to molest my body. My hope is; love will invade a man’s
heart when enough sperm leaves his body.
I chose not to be
without both love and touch. Too many times I opened my legs too soon and
for some not soon enough. I’ve used the bodies of more men than I care to
count. It is after my sex takes a man to the edge, will he see the amazing
woman that I am, but as persistent and patient as I have been, I have yet
to find love attached to the bodies I allow to lay naked beside
mine.
I wrote my first two
books because I need my Knight. I too want the chance to wear the
dress.
I have learned that life
is not a fairytale. Therefore, my dress need not be white, and my knight
need not be flawless. I have yet to marry because I have chosen not
to keep my eyes shut as tight as they need to be in order not to see all
of the ugliness in relationships. The truth can be painful, ugly, and
unpleasant. Neither I nor men will change if we will not allow ourselves
to her our faults. Time has forced me to change my childhood dreams and
expectations of marriage. Love might be illusive, but it is all that I
have left to reach for while I exist emotionally
isolated.
If I marry, I would do
so assuming that while married I must give that man enough pleasant years
to learn the real me, and myself enough time to accept his differences and
appreciate his heart.
I now know enough to
replace many of my words with touch.
My ears will close to a
man’s ugliness and foolish behaviors so my eyes open wider while I attempt
to understand his reasons. I will pretend to be willing to make sacrifices
when I am impatient and selfish. When a man is with me, I need only to
feel that he is really with me. I do not feel it to be necessary to make
our time together uncomfortable or cause conflict by busying myself with
what he does outside of the home. I will try to remain trusting that his
love and respect for me will direct him down most of the right roads. When
he makes wrong turns I will do my best to remain understanding and closed
mouth with my judgment. Love is a misunderstood, unpredictable emotion. I
find it best to learn the heart of a person before trusting their words.
Too many people choose to destroy their happiness by giving to much
attention to the imperfections, faults, and bad decision making of their
significant other.
I hope to never let go
of my choosing love for my reason to marry. However, the closer I come to
being a lady with a corroding body and a life void of a man’s touch and
his company, I feel myself letting go of many of my meaningless
convictions and pride.
I am not yet alone or
desperate. I do not want to marry an irritable man with a broken body, no
money, and who expects me to make his oatmeal for the rest of his
lactose-intolerant
life.
Both men and women come
with a past. We love the same, but this is not always recognized. Our
negative words heard louder and our bad hurt longer than the good we do.
Our love for another is often misinterpreted, misunderstood, and
wrong. We both lust after the opposite sex, foam at the mouth and
dribble moisture in our underwear. We want and need
one-another.
Marriage is unnatural
and restrictive. Women should not harshly judge their mate when his
manhood leads him places he should not be. We should accept a marriage
proposal as a man’s strongest show of love. With the pressures, that
society puts on a man the joys that he receives from attention given to
his penis might be seen by him as proper compensation for his loss of his
freedom and the stress of having to be all that society expects him to be.
Polite, soft spoken, or
kind, is not how I would describe most women today. Ladylike mannerisms, a
well maintained body, and understanding, are buried in-between a jaded
woman’s anger. Not only do women without men talk too much; many of them
use vulgar words with ease and belittle men in public. A woman should
spend ten seconds thinking about what it is she wants to say, then wait
another six seconds before saying it. If women did this, they might not
say half of the stuff they say. It remains a mystery to me how women swear
at the man that she shares a bed with. It is a challenging, if not an
impossible to keep a man in our lives. The faults that cause women the
most distress, pain, and require wasted energies are men’s lazy
lovemaking, their taking without giving, and them sharing their penis with
others. After going for long periods of time without have a disease
free man to keep me lubricated, I’ve come to understand and
appreciate that there are uncomfortable differences me and men. My way is
no longer the only way, and I no long expect the man I choose to spread
apart my legs for, to be society’s definition of a good
man.
My writings will
entertain you with gratuitous love, illusive love, reality, humor, and
wicked lust.
Without self-discipline,
I, a polished lady, with wicked desires, put to paper my thoughts. I am
direct, candid, and my pencil is not shy. I say aloud what one cries
about in silence.
Insatiable, is
how one would describe my writing, readers and depth of my
love.
Both men and women
will find parts of themselves in my characters. Learn the games that make
a relationship work for you and find answers to questions not asked aloud.
From my enlighten
novels, “A Chance to Wear the Dress” and “Knight in Rusty Armor”, I have
taken some of the racy interaction and given them to you in this
book.
My third novel “Flowers
down the Toilet” will delight and well educate its readers. Enjoy
your reading.
The year and the place
my stories take place is irrelevant. A person’s desire to be held,
stroked, and loved today is as it will be tomorrow
Enjoy my
writings. |
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