You dislike me, I can't stand you,
We don't want to see each other,
Yet something - fate? - decrees we do.

You think I want you, I sneer - you WISH!
Educated people that we are (And I speak for myself here)
We drop all pretences of civility and it's
"I hate you", "I loathe YOU".

There was a time we made each other laugh
Now so much as an itsy bitsy interaction
And you're left strangely angry,
Me - I get mentally sore and blue.

Ignore me, you say,
Gladly, studiously I do
Yet you won't disappear from my life
Why? I haven't the foggiest, slightest clue.

You dislike me, I can't stand you,
We don't want to see each other,
Yet something - fate? - decrees we do.

Oooooooooooohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh................

I've found the much touted, most sought after G-Spot.

Ladies, rejoice. It's not some elusive thing that only "those" women have. Each one of us does. And before you start saliva...no, orgasming, read on.

It was one fine day that I'd had my fill of reading some inane beauty magazine that promised on its covers the surefire way to "Get him all fired UP" [pun, i'm sure, intended] and "How to get to the Big O" . Thoroughly bored out of my wits and spurred into action by the tall claims but nothing delivered, I called up a few of my friends...all categories - married, single, divorced, dating, casual flings, lesbians, what have you - lest I be accused of being biased and my research incomplete. The following is a result of my "research". The ones in bold black are two of the many questions I asked.

So, does the g-spot exist?
"Yeah right, I'm sure somewhere! Where does it go when Raman* is trying really hard to make me, you know, reach where he is?"
"Yeah right, in the nail of my little toe. I'd like to go back to grade- or med-school to dissect a woman and see where it is."
" " [That one was a totally blank look].

So, do the big O(h)'s ever happen to you?
"Now that's a dumb one, babe, of course they do"
"D-U-H"
"Where do you think I get all my happiness and the spring in my step from?"

Now I'm beginning to wonder if my friends are alright. All the stuff I've heard about the g-spot till now linked it directly to all the coos and shudders and sighs and moans and yells and screams women belt out while orgasming and link orgasms straight to the g-spot. And here I had this bunch of women - not all of who knew the others - contradict all of that.

And as women are wont to do, we talked and talked and talked about it, till we fell exhausted - to sleep, in a crumpled heap - ok, feeble attempt at poetry, but I digress.

I can see your fingers itching towards the scroll button. Hold it right there. I'm getting to where the G-spot really is.

It's not where they tell you it is. It's not in your most erogenous zones, it's not tucked away in some corner of your innards. It's not "cocooned in the precious, soft folds of pink skin" [UGH..that one's got a career as a soft porn writer]. It's not in your eyelids. [That's where the maximum nerve endings are, they say]. It's in the place you'd last look, if ever.

Your G-Spot, ladies, is in your, taramtaram, paramparam, MINDS!

Think about it.

Why is it that somedays the orgasm you get is an "OMIGAWDIMGOINGTODIENOIMDEAD" and on others it's more like, 'OK, can-we-pls-get-this-done-and-over-with?" It's still the same man [well, almost], it's still the same g-spot, but it's not the same scream inducing, rippling orgasm everyday. Hmmmmm....

And the clinchers in favor of my argument: How is it that somedays you get flashes while you're driving and suddenly before you know it, you've O'd just looking at the handsome hunk in the car next to you? Or even while sitting in a REALLY boring meeting, you get this sudden guilty look on your face - you've just omygod orgasmed?

If the g-spot is really inside of you where it's claimed to be, how come there are moments you reach the heavens just by his- or her [to be fair to my friends who prefer to sweat it out with women] mere running a finger up the inside of your thigh?

You see my dear women, it's all in your mind. You think of it, create it in your mind, and it'll happen when you want it, where you want it. Tell your brain to start sending the right signals and your breaths will start coming faster. Command yourself to start trembling and in a bit you will. Talk AND work yourself into an orgasm and you'll have the loudest RIPPING orgasm ever. THAT'S how - I"M sure - women who prefer women get their mindblowing satisfaction. [considering they can't get into each others' innermost physical being...]

So what are you waiting for...looking for a mindblowing orgasm? First change the adverb to something like heartstopping or something and then...Start thinking your way to multiple mindblowing orgasms.

Me? I'm on my way to gathering more stuff to writing that best seller I just mentioned above.

(* Names changed to protect identities - of the poor men who've been lambasted in my research.
DISCLAIMER....the above are entirely my thoughts and ideas corroborated by friends' experiences and have no validation whatsoever from any professional whosoever who works wheresoever.
I'd like to thank all my friends for their valuable 'in'sights and a sneak peek into their ultra-personal moments. THAT came about by am emotional "educate me please" blackmail tactic ;). )

Feelings...

Today, for the first time in my life, I was jealous of someone i really like. Actually I'm not too sure if it's jealousy or something else - all I know is that it was a feeling totally new to me and not one i'm particularly proud of.

Which brought me to the kind of people we become as we grow up. The more experience we gain, the more we learn, the worse we become as human beings. I used to love to forever hug my parents and sit and spend time with them. Now, even when I want to hug my parents I don't. When did I change from being the loving daughter that I was to being this angry person who stays closeted in her room and only meets with her parents at dinner or lunch? When did I become this horribly self centered person who can only think about herself and her time to sleep? My father - more than twice my age - get's up abot 2 hours before I do and goes off to sleep about an hour after I'm in zz land. Yet, I behave as if I need more rest. My mother, again more than twice my age, works all day long, yet she's the one who serves me dinner when I come back home from what I call a hard day's work.

Like I said, I'm suddenly not particularly proud of myself or the person I've become.

A gust of wind
tugging at my hair firmly
clasped in a clip.

A spray of rain
refreshing, cool, new water
in jaded eyes.

Tiny pink buds
struggling against the earth
fighting to bloom.

There's newness all around me
Yet I'm waiting to feel it within
Will the rain revive me?
Will it be able to get under my anticipating skin?