Gettin' Down in Chi-Town

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Love is just a system for getting someone to call you darling after sex.

- -Julian Barnes

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Valentine’s Day for the Young and Broke
Being single on Valentine’s Day this year is not stressing me too much. My band has 2 gigs this weekend, and I’m just concentrating on the music, and not on the fact that I will most likely be sleeping alone. I’m not one to get too into the V-Day hype: if I’m single, I’m not gonna moan and groan about it, or lock myself in the dark with Ben & Jerry’s, or get trashed at some singles party and have a one-night-stand with a lonely stranger.
If I’m not single, sure I’ll do something sweet with my sweetie on Feb 14th. Dinner, dressing up, good sex. But no pressure! It doesn’t have to be the best sex ever, or the most romantic dinner, the roses don’t have to be red. Sure, V-Day is “commercialized” and “created by card companies,” but love is not. Enjoy and celebrate love in your own way (ha, put that in a sappy card). Just don’t get all worked up about it.
I had a few very sweet and simple Valentine’s Days when I was young and broke and dating Will. The first year, I was living in Santa Cruz and he was 90 miles away, in Berkeley. We only got to see each other on weekends, and V-Day weekend it was my turn to travel to him. We had just recently exchanged those Three Little Words a few weeks before. He said it first. Drunk. After a party that included a moment where Will tried to take off his pants on the dance floor during the song “Mr. Big Stuff.” I carried him to bed and tucked him in, and he mumbled, “Lucy, I have to say something…”
“No!” I cried, guessing what was coming.
“Lucy. I love you… Kind of.”
What could I say? Would he even remember this in the morning? “I love you kind of, too, Will.”
So, flash forward to a couple weeks later: V-Day weekend in Berkeley. When I got to Will’s, he unceremoniously handed me a box of chocolates. At this point in my youth I was still a little V-Day crazy, and thought this was disappointingly unromantic. But I bit my tongue, and Will took me on a walk. We walked to the Bulb, a landfill-turned-park that juts out into the Bay. This place has been home to many homeless, and a secret party spot for young people. Yuppies walk their dogs out there, and urban artists create giant sculptures out of the rebar and concrete slabs sticking out of the ground. It’s one of my favorite places in the Bay Area, and since then I’ve often wandered on this little piece of land, standing under trees adorned with found objects hanging from their branches, and tossing rocks into the water.
Will took me out to the end of the Bulb, and led me up a spiral staircase created from pieces of cement sidewalk. We were standing atop a structure called “Bum’s Castle,” and the view of San Francisco was spectacular. Will wrapped his arms around me, and we watched the sunset. I was delighted. Then he whispered to me, “Hey. Look down at the shape of the roof.”
I looked down. The roof of the Castle was the shape of a heart.
Will said, “I’ve been planning this for a Valentine’s surprise. I love you.”
This time he didn’t add “kind of.”


P.S. Then we had sex.

Valentine’s Day for the Young and Broke

Being single on Valentine’s Day this year is not stressing me too much. My band has 2 gigs this weekend, and I’m just concentrating on the music, and not on the fact that I will most likely be sleeping alone. I’m not one to get too into the V-Day hype: if I’m single, I’m not gonna moan and groan about it, or lock myself in the dark with Ben & Jerry’s, or get trashed at some singles party and have a one-night-stand with a lonely stranger.

If I’m not single, sure I’ll do something sweet with my sweetie on Feb 14th. Dinner, dressing up, good sex. But no pressure! It doesn’t have to be the best sex ever, or the most romantic dinner, the roses don’t have to be red. Sure, V-Day is “commercialized” and “created by card companies,” but love is not. Enjoy and celebrate love in your own way (ha, put that in a sappy card). Just don’t get all worked up about it.

I had a few very sweet and simple Valentine’s Days when I was young and broke and dating Will. The first year, I was living in Santa Cruz and he was 90 miles away, in Berkeley. We only got to see each other on weekends, and V-Day weekend it was my turn to travel to him. We had just recently exchanged those Three Little Words a few weeks before. He said it first. Drunk. After a party that included a moment where Will tried to take off his pants on the dance floor during the song “Mr. Big Stuff.” I carried him to bed and tucked him in, and he mumbled, “Lucy, I have to say something…”

“No!” I cried, guessing what was coming.

“Lucy. I love you… Kind of.”

What could I say? Would he even remember this in the morning? “I love you kind of, too, Will.”

So, flash forward to a couple weeks later: V-Day weekend in Berkeley. When I got to Will’s, he unceremoniously handed me a box of chocolates. At this point in my youth I was still a little V-Day crazy, and thought this was disappointingly unromantic. But I bit my tongue, and Will took me on a walk. We walked to the Bulb, a landfill-turned-park that juts out into the Bay. This place has been home to many homeless, and a secret party spot for young people. Yuppies walk their dogs out there, and urban artists create giant sculptures out of the rebar and concrete slabs sticking out of the ground. It’s one of my favorite places in the Bay Area, and since then I’ve often wandered on this little piece of land, standing under trees adorned with found objects hanging from their branches, and tossing rocks into the water.

Will took me out to the end of the Bulb, and led me up a spiral staircase created from pieces of cement sidewalk. We were standing atop a structure called “Bum’s Castle,” and the view of San Francisco was spectacular. Will wrapped his arms around me, and we watched the sunset. I was delighted. Then he whispered to me, “Hey. Look down at the shape of the roof.”

I looked down. The roof of the Castle was the shape of a heart.

Will said, “I’ve been planning this for a Valentine’s surprise. I love you.”

This time he didn’t add “kind of.”

P.S. Then we had sex.

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Hi, I’m Lucy Rockwell

Here is my deal: I am a woman in my mid-twenties living in a big city. My favorite kind of adventures are the sexy kind, and I find it unfortunate that so many people are all hung up about sex. The desire for sex is something innate in all people, and all the issues surrounding it are, in my opinion, rubbish. I am one of the lucky few who is able to separate love and sex, and I don’t think I could ever be monogamous. All things kinky are OK by me; I might not do them all, but I certainly understand if you do.

Not to say I don’t believe in love. I do indeed, and at this point I am on a casual search for it. But I know my future partner would have to be a like-minded fellow (or gal perhaps? Not opposed to that notion) in the sex department. Sex, to me, is the most fundamental reason for living. The physical and emotional response is like no other, and cannot be replicated in any artificial manner. How delightful that humans can have such an incredible experience, and nearly whenever they want!

There is something in my nature that causes people to tell me very personal things. Sometimes they are looking for someone to confide in, and sometimes they are seeking advice. But I have found myself in a situation (more than a few times) wherein I meet a person, and later that night they are asking me what kind of vibrator to buy, or why their birth control sucks, or what to do when he/she wants to do it in the ass.

I am happy to oblige their need for a listening ear, but I am at a loss as to how these people know that  I am the one to ask. I mean, if you found yourself alone for a moment with a girl you barely knew, would you ask out of the blue, “ So, what’s the deal with female ejaculation?” Apparently, if that girl is me, the answer would be yes. One guy I dated said he knew I was kinky from the moment he saw me, despite the fact that I was bundled up in winter clothes. Maybe my aura is some wicked scarlet color, who knows. In any case, here I am. If you want to read entertaining and insightful things about sex, here I am. And if you want some advice on your own sexual experience, I’m good for that too.

Enjoy!
-Lucy

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Life. Love. Lust.

I'm Lucy. I live in Chicago and I like to talk about sex. Give me a topic: I'm happy to answer any questions about love, sex, and relationships. Email me at LucyRockwell@gmail.com


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