Adonis Diaries

Archive for the ‘sex/ love/seduction’ Category

A few stories of regret?

There was a French girl student in my class of Physics/Chemistry at the university. We spent 2 years in that program and I don’t recall I have ever talked to her.

She was slim, slightly red-headed, hair cut a la garcon, rather flat-chested and elegant in her sober attire and wore the same flat shoes. I think she was pretty. It would have taken a forceful determination from any girl then to take the initiative and lead me to utter a few sentences.

Another regret. She occasionally paid her grandmother visits, from the other part of the continent. I occasionally wrote her letters in the name of her mentally handicapped grand mother.

One of the letter included a convoluted sentence that she picked up as a confession of love. And it was.
A couple of weeks later she showed up. She went jogging and rubbed her feet with lotion. She then asked me to go for a walk. She wanted a verbal confirmation.

I was in a rot with my PhD dissertation and lacked the spirit for such kinds of conversation. I couldn’t master enough craziness to blurt out: ” I find you a lovely, natural and compassionate woman. Take me with you…”
I didn’t see her again: I moved out to another old lady house whose son wanted someone to live with.

Another regret. It was winter of 1976. A Friday, and about 8:30 pm.  Alone, I am to watch a foreign movie, shown by the University Film Club at the Microbiology department.

She showed up with her girlfriend. She is blonde, blue/green eyed, not tall, not skinny.For my candid eyes, just the perfect beauty. I cowered. I should have made haste, join her, and say: “Fair lady, have a good look at my face.

A couple of days later, returning from the library at midnight, I saw her “studying” with my roommate. I had to piss badly and as I emerged, she was gone.

Another regret: When I first saw her I was mesmerized. She was wearing boots and a white shirt and looked gorgeous and stunning. I had to meet her in West Hollywood to convey her sister salutation who had a Lebanese boyfriend. She kept asking me about my friend, as if I was a mere messenger. She never knew that she made me walk on air the entire encounter

Note 1: I barely recollect a regret Not involving a beautiful girl whom I failed to engage with. The first lesson in classrooms for adolescent of both sex should be “how to engage a girl you think you like” and save a lifetime of accumulated regrets.

Note 2: You may read a detailed account of these regrets and much more in my category Auto-biography

Advertisements

Sabbou7a, Fairuz, Lebanon female top famous singers: Different characters and styles

Saba7 died a few weeks ago. Fairouz is still young of 77 years old.

You may read the biography of late Saba7: https://adonis49.wordpress.com/2014/11/26/sabah-jeanette-gergis-al-feghali-passed-away-in-lebanon-icon-and-diva-of-lebanese-and-arabic-music/

Nasri Atallah posted on FB this December 6 at 8:13pm ·

“While Fairuz represents Lebanon as it likes to imagine itself: transcendent, serious, beautiful, virginal, timeless, and poetic—Sabah represents a much more honest version of Lebanon: glamorous, colorful, tragic, obsessed with youth, funny, a little trashy, and lusty.

(Let’s not try hard to match Saba7 with this totally convoluted Lebanon)

It is the contradictory nature of Sabah that is inspiring to many: that she seemed to do what she wanted whenever she wanted and with whomever she wanted, the world be damned.

In fact, Sabah was so important to the Lebanese imaginary that her funeral mass was given by that country’s Maronite Patriarch.

There the Patriarch was—a sectarian, sexist, and conservative religious leader—solemnly praying for a woman who married and divorced 9 times, admitted to having affairs and “enjoying” many more men, and who didn’t care if those men were Christian or Muslim or purple, as long as she thought they were hot.

Even in death, Sabah forced the most reactionary elements of conservatism and sectarianism to listen and to take note of her.

She gave them no choice.

Her insistence on living her complicated and contradictory life and art openly and proudly inspired many, including myself” – Maya Mikdashi in Jadaliyya.

Investment in Medicine for virility and augmentation of breast:
5 times that of Alzheimer?
Drauzio Varella, Brazil Nobel laureate for medicine, said:
Currently, 5 times more are invested in Medicine for virility and augmentation of breast than on Alzheimer.
Within a few years, we will end up with a whole bunch of elder people with big breasts and rigid penis, and they will have no idea what they are for, and what they used them for…
La phrase qui tue !!!!....

Sex needs a new metaphor

No more sex as a competition

For some reason, says educator Al Vernacchio, the metaphors for talking about sex in the US all come from baseball — scoring, getting to first base, etc.

The problem is, this frames sex as a competition, with a winner and a loser. Instead, he suggests a new metaphor, one that’s more about shared pleasure, discussion and agreement, fulfillment and enjoyment. Let’s talk about … pizza.

 

Al Vernacchio. Sexuality educator
In his 12th-grade Sexuality and Society class, Al Vernacchio speaks honestly and positively about human sexuality. Full bio
I’d like to talk to you today about a whole new way to think about sexual activity and sexuality education.
If you talk to someone today in America about sexual activity, you’ll find pretty soon you’re not just talking about sexual activity. You’re also talking about baseball.
Because baseball is the dominant cultural metaphor that Americans use to think about and talk about sexual activity, and we know that because there’s all this language in English that seems to be talking about baseball but that’s really talking about sexual activity.
So, for example, you can be a pitcher or a catcher, and that corresponds to whether you perform a sexual act or receive a sexual act. Of course, there are the bases, which refer to specific sexual activities that happen in a very specific order, ultimately resulting in scoring a run or hitting a home run, which is usually having vaginal intercourse to the point of orgasm, at least for the guy. (Goal, goal say soccer fans)
You can strike out, which means you don’t get to have any sexual activity. And if you’re a benchwarmer, you might be a virgin or somebody who for whatever reason isn’t in the game, maybe because of your age or because of your ability or because of your skillset.
A bat’s a penis, and a nappy dugout is a vulva, or a vagina. A glove or a catcher’s mitt is a condom. A switch-hitter is a bisexual person, and we gay and lesbian folks play for the other team.
And then there’s this one: if there’s grass on the field, play ball.” And that usually refers to if a young person, specifically often a young woman, is old enough to have pubic hair, she’s old enough to have sex with.
This baseball model is incredibly problematic. It’s sexist. It’s heterosexist. It’s competitive. It’s goal-directed. And it can’t result in healthy sexuality developing in young people or in adults.
So we need a new model. I’m here today to offer you that new model. And it’s based on pizza.
Now pizza is something that is universally understood and that most people associate with a positive experience. So let’s do this.
Let’s take baseball and pizza and compare it when talking about three aspects of sexual activity: the trigger for sexual activity, what happens during sexual activity, and the expected outcome of sexual activity.
So when do you play baseball? You play baseball when it’s baseball season and when there’s a game on the schedule. It’s not exactly your choice. So if it’s prom night or a wedding night or at a party or if our parents aren’t home, hey, it’s just batter up.
Can you imagine saying to your coach, “Uh, I’m not really feeling it today, I think I’ll sit this game out.” That’s just not the way it happens. And when you get together to play baseball, immediately you’re with two opposing teams, one playing offense, one playing defense, somebody’s trying to move deeper into the field. That’s usually a sign to the boy.
Somebody’s trying to defend people moving into the field. That’s often given to the girl. It’s competitive. We’re not playing with each other. We’re playing against each other. And when you show up to play baseball, nobody needs to talk about what we’re going to do or how this baseball game might be good for us. Everybody knows the rules.
You just take your position and play the game. But when do you have pizza? Well, you have pizza when you’re hungry for pizza. It starts with an internal sense, an internal desire, or a need. “Huh. I could go for some pizza.” (Laughter)
And because it’s an internal desire, we actually have some sense of control over that. I could decide that I’m hungry but know that it’s not a great time to eat. And then when we get together with someone for pizza, we’re not competing with them, we’re looking for an experience that both of us will share that’s satisfying for both of us, and when you get together for pizza with somebody, what’s the first thing you do?
You talk about it. You talk about what you want. You talk about what you like. You may even negotiate it. “How do you feel about pepperoni?” (Laughter) “Not so much, I’m kind of a mushroom guy myself.” “Well, maybe we can go half and half.” And even if you’ve had pizza with somebody for a very long time, don’t you still say things like, “Should we get the usual?” (Laughter) “Or maybe something a little more adventurous?”
Okay, so when you’re playing baseball, so if we talk about during sexual activity, when you’re playing baseball, you’re just supposed to round the bases in the proper order one at a time. You can’t hit the ball and run to right field. That doesn’t work. And you also can’t get to second base and say, “I like it here. I’m going to stay here.” No.
And with baseball,  you need specific equipment and a specific skill set. Not everybody can play baseball. It’s pretty exclusive
But what about pizza? When we’re trying to figure out what’s good for pizza, isn’t it all about what’s our pleasure? There are a million different kinds of pizza. There’s a million different toppings. There’s a million different ways to eat pizza. And none of them are wrong.
They’re different. And in this case, difference is good, because that’s going to increase the chance that we’re having a satisfying experience. And lastly, what’s the expected outcome of baseball? Well, in baseball, you play to win. You score as many runs as you can. There’s always a winner in baseball, and that means there’s always a loser in baseball.
But what about pizza? Well, in pizza, we’re not really — there’s no winning. How do you win pizza? You don’t. But you do look for, “Are we satisfied?” And sometimes that can be different amounts over different times or with different people or on different days. And we get to decide when we feel satisfied.
If we’re still hungry, we might have some more. If you eat too much, though, you just feel gross. (Laughter) So what if we could take this pizza model and overlay it on top of sexuality education?
A lot of sexuality education that happens today is so influenced by the baseball model, and it sets up education that can’t help but produce unhealthy sexuality in young people. And those young people become older people.
if we could create sexuality education that was more like pizza, we could create education that invites people to think about their own desires, to make deliberate decisions about what they want, to talk about it with their partners, and to ultimately look for not some external outcome but for what feels satisfying, and we get to decide that.
You may have noticed in the baseball and pizza comparison, under the baseball, it’s all commands. They’re all exclamation points. But under the pizza model, they’re questions. And who gets to answer those questions? You do. I do.
So remember, when we’re thinking about sexuality education and sexual activity, baseball, you’re out. Pizza is the way to think about healthy, satisfying sexual activity, and good, comprehensive sexuality education. Thank you very much for your time.

The woman is made to, made for, made from…? And the young girls

La femme est faite pour un homme, l’homme est fait pour la vie, et notamment pour toutes les femmes.
La femme est faite pour être arrivée, et rivée ; l’homme est fait pour entreprendre, et se détacher :

elle commence à aimer, quand, lui, il a fini ; on parle d’allumeuse, que ne parle-t-on plus souvent d’allumeurs !

L’homme prend et rejette ; la femme se donne, et on ne reprend pas, ou reprend mal, ce qu’on a une fois donné.

La femme croit que l’amour peut tout, non seulement le sien, mais celui que l’homme lui porte, qu’elle s’exagère toujours ; elle prétend avec éloquence que l’amour n’a pas de limites ;

l’homme voit les limites de l’amour, de celui que la femme a pour lui, et de celui qu’il a pour elle, dont il connait toute la pauvreté.

Henry de Montherlant / Les jeunes filles

On a beau s’ingénier, l’amour n’est pas varié ; il se présente toujours de la même façon : on en peut suivre aisément chaque période et chaque manifestation successive, depuis le début toujours pareil jusqu’au dénouement toujours le même.

Les sensuels s’efforcent de le travailler, de le raffiner, de le compliquer, de le parfaire, ils ne trouvent rien de nouveau ;

et, dans la pratique, un collégien préparant son bachot en sait autant qu’un vieux sénateur goutteux ou qu’un académicien galant blanchi dans les aventures.

Maupassant dans ses Chroniques

Note: It is Women Day. And the rhetoric is for equal pay for equal skilled work. And be equally politically represented in all political and administrative organizations and institutions.

Eternel Feminin

Histoire d’ELLE

Elle a longuement dormi sur ses pages…

Ses écrits la couvraient de leur doux grésil….

Il lui a promis de la façonner à la manière de ses héroïnes, de la coucher sur ses feuilles :
– Écris notre histoire….mêle moi à ton encre…..façonne- moi dans la femme de ton roman….Éternise mon souvenir…
– Tu me fais frissonner. J’ai besoin de toucher ton visage.
– Tu le toucheras ; tu le manieras entre tes doigts d’artiste. Mon Pygmalion.

Elle a longuement dormi sur ses pages...Ses écrits la couvraient de leur doux grésil....Il lui a promis de la façonner à la manière de ses héroïnes, de la coucher sur ses feuilles : - Écris notre histoire....mêle moi à ton encre.....façonne- moi dans la femme de ton roman....Éternise mon souvenir… - Tu me fais frissonner. J’ai besoin de toucher ton visage. - Tu le toucheras ; tu le manieras entre tes doigts d'artiste. Mon Pygmalion. - Tu me tues. - je te tue pour mieux te ressusciter. Pour mieux t'immortaliser. Sois le ciseau. Je serai ta pâte, ton marbre. - Je ne saurai comment réagir quand mes yeux rencontreront les tiens. Je te crains. Je crains la femme que tu es. Cette femme qui incarne la sensualité farouche. - Sculpteur de mes rêves.....laisse le moment agir. Tes yeux verront la lueur qui t'invite à me rejoindre. Tu emporteras à ton départ un souvenir éternel qui te fera vivre jusqu'à la prochaine rencontre. - je voudrais t'inhaler. Je te dompterai ...tu ne seras plus farouche. - Fondre en toi pour renaître sur tes lèvres un mot. - Un mot....jamais inventé. Un mot qui te libère des entraves de la société. - Un mot érigé sur deux corps à l'âme poétique. - Je t'aspirerai pour que tu renaisses en moi.... - j'adore....ta plume suinte le délire d'écrire. - Quelle belle âme que la tienne. tu sais manipuler le mot. Beaucoup d'allégresse. Je crève d'envie de prendre ton visage entre mes mains - Notre rencontre hante mes nuits et mes jours....j'imagine la scène....je sens tes mains sur mon visage qui sourit à ton approche. Mes lèvres frémissent et rougissent quand par un soupir ton cœur se mêle au mien. Histoire d'ELLE....(Tous droits réservés sous poursuites judiciaires)

– Tu me tues.
– je te tue pour mieux te ressusciter. Pour mieux t’immortaliser. Sois le ciseau. Je serai ta pâte, ton marbre.
– Je ne saurai comment réagir quand mes yeux rencontreront les tiens. Je te crains. Je crains la femme que tu es. Cette femme qui incarne la sensualité farouche.
– Sculpteur de mes rêves…..laisse le moment agir. Tes yeux verront la lueur qui t’invite à me rejoindre. Tu emporteras à ton départ un souvenir éternel qui te fera vivre jusqu’à la prochaine rencontre.
– je voudrais t’inhaler. Je te dompterai …tu ne seras plus farouche.
– Fondre en toi pour renaître sur tes lèvres un mot.
– Un mot….jamais inventé. Un mot qui te libère des entraves de la société.
– Un mot érigé sur deux corps à l’âme poétique.
– Je t’aspirerai pour que tu renaisses en moi….
– j’adore….ta plume suinte le délire d’écrire.
– Quelle belle âme que la tienne. tu sais manipuler le mot. Beaucoup d’allégresse. Je crève d’envie de prendre ton visage entre mes mains
– Notre rencontre hante mes nuits et mes jours….j’imagine la scène….je sens tes mains sur mon visage qui sourit à ton approche. Mes lèvres frémissent et rougissent quand par un soupir ton cœur se mêle au mien.
Histoire d’ELLE….(Tous droits réservés sous poursuites judiciaires)

See More

“You licked my scratches climbing…”

A man, a woman, a desire, some hope, and the detour along the way

Je me rappelle encore nos escapades sur les talus épineux. Tu me tendais la main et essuyais de ta langue mes égratignures..

.Nous nous juchions sur le tertre, la main dans la main, admirions le soleil se couler dans l’eau…

tu me regardais de tes yeux si bleus que je nageais de bonheur…

Goéland qui a survolé mon ciel. Assis sur le bord de l’eau, nous buvions du rouge à la rasade et faisions fondre du chocolat amer sur nos langues encore chastes quand tu te penchas pour lécher de tes papilles la goutte de vin qui trempa ma jambe…

moment sacré…nos bouches fondirent dans un tumulte agité de sens….J

e buvais l’eau claire de tes yeux….le rivage de tes lèvres où j’ancrais ma féminité….

tes mains câlines qui s’ immisçaient timidement dans mon corsage pour effleurer le bouton de mes roses fleuries par ton toucher…

j’aimais ton souffle effréné sur le lobe de mes oreilles…
Tes doigts embrasaient mon être si transi, pianotaient le grain de ma peau qui se hérissait sous les saccades du désir intense de nos deux corps enlacés…

tu me promis l’éternité de ta présence, tant que la mer côtoie le rivage, ton amour pour moi sera sans limites

Une silhouette s’érige dans la pénombre de nos caresses…une silhouette qui s’engouffre dans la grotte du rocher, moite par les passages saccadés du jusant, exultant de tes caresses rageuses la cavité féminine d’une déesse, d’une sirène sacrifiant son existence pour son bien –aimé.

Je fus la déesse de tes songes, le temps d’une escapade autour des îles lucifériennes de la jouissance ….

je fus ta déesse, cette femme que tu as tant voulu côtoyer des nuits entières…je fus ton songe, ta rêverie, ta lubie .

Soyeux moments exaltant nos deux corps fusionnés, moments édéniques d’un échange de sensations, sensations de deux corps entrelacés dans les aléas d’une vie, vidée de ses sens qui enflamment les nôtres.

Moments extatiques, partagés dans les draps froissés, façonnés par nos entrelacements, nos enlacements labyrinthiques

Un éclat de joie retentit, mêlé aux murmures d’amour.

Les draps blancs, pureté du moment, crissaient de bonheur sous les coups de bélier qui s’incurvaient dans les dédales de la voûte.

Des rires timides dévoilaient les actes qui se succédaient….
Un Homme…une Femme….un désir….une Espérance et puis un détour de chemin….

Histoire d’ELLE ( un roman inachevé ) …Éternel Féminin….


adonis49

adonis49

adonis49

December 2017
M T W T F S S
« Nov    
 123
45678910
11121314151617
18192021222324
25262728293031

Blog Stats

  • 1,037,047 hits

Enter your email address to subscribe to this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.adonisbouh@gmail.com

Join 513 other followers

%d bloggers like this: