You’ll laugh when you hear it…well, I laughed — and then I had great sex.

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Image by Wavebreakmedia licenced from DepositPhotos

My husband and I met thirteen years ago. I was one-year out of sexless marriage and he’d just been dumped by a woman who was having sex behind his back…when he wasn’t there, unfortunately for him.

During the first two years of our relationship, we had sex every single day. Sometimes more than once. My married female friends were anything but envious. They’d all been coupled so long I think they’d forgotten how fun it was to be in a new relationship, exploring a new body and having their bodies explored in new ways.

My slide into once-a-week-on-Saturday-morning sex happened…


Unless you promote it, in which case just talking about this kind of sex could get you fired

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Photo by Nobilior from DepositPhotos.com

Back in 1994, the Surgeon General of the United States of America was forced to resign over a comment she made while speaking at the United Nations conference on AIDS.

She was asked if it would be appropriate to promote masturbation as a way to keep young people from engaging in riskier forms of sexual activity. And she said,

“I think that (masturbation) is part of human sexuality, and perhaps it should be taught.”

To be clear, Dr. Elders was not suggesting teachers have children practice dropping their drawers and touching their Wee Willies and Wet Wandas in the classrooms…


And the man she spied on was my high school ethics teacher

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Image by Dimaberkut liscenced from DepositPhotos.com

This is a true story. I changed the teacher’s name and the town name since this crime happened 34 years ago, and it appears he’s still working in education.

Grandma — in our family we called her Nonnie — was widowed at age 54 in 1964. She believed that the marriage vows she made to her beloved George, my grandfather, were for life. So she never dated as a widow. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t still interested in sex, it turns out. At very least, watching it.

Let me set the scene. Rural Quebec mid-1980s. Nonnie lives on a…


I *really* want her to be my friend

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Photo by olly18 licenced from DepositPhotos.com

It started out as curiosity about the mysterious woman who’d stolen my ex-husband’s heart and soul.

When James, my then-husband, described the woman he’d fallen in love with he said that she was a lot like me — we both had degrees in Communication and had majored in documentary-filmmaking. Like me, she was an event organizer, socially progressive, was bilingual, and had big, brown eyes. Also, like me, he called her his soul mate.

Another strange similarity was our birthdays. She was born one day after me — only fourteen years earlier. …


I credit Mr. Rogers for the motivation

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Photo of me, the author taken by my brother-in-law

“Anything that’s human is mentionable, and anything that is mentionable can be more manageable. When we can talk about our feelings, they become less overwhelming, less upsetting, and less scary. The people we trust with that important talk can help us know that we are not alone.”

In January 2019, I read the above quote in Fred Rogers’ book called Life’s Journeys According to Mister Rogers: Things to Remember Along the Way. It’s a beautiful idea and one I wished was true.

Anything that’s human is mentionable, and anything that is mentionable can be more manageable.

I love that Mister…


We might just create more empathetic communities

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Photo by Clement Chai on Unsplash

“James, wake up. Someone broke into the garage last night. It’s a mess.”

So began our day. Neither James nor I were particularly mad. We were frustrated, annoyed at the hassle of having to deal with an insurance company and wait around for someone to replace the damaged door and fix the door frame. Liam, our 4-year-old, was firm, “If I see those bad guys, I’m gonna smack their butts.”

James looked around. All of his power tools and his three tool boxes were gone.

“Why?” I wondered out loud. Then I answered my own question. …


Who puts a playground right beside a sewage treatment plant?

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Image by stetsik licensed from DespositPhotos

I was forty-years-old before a man ever went down on me. Forty. Years old.

In my defense… why do I feel like I need a defense?… I’d only ever been in one serious relationship, the one with my husband. And although I’d given him a mouthful of blowjobs in our fourteen years together, he never offered to reciprocate. In his defense, I never asked.

I was grossed out by the idea of his mouth being so close to my anus. I couldn’t imagine that he could possibly derive any pleasure licking my clit or sucking my labia. I imagined the…


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Photo by author… mmm… delicious.

Move over strawberry, cherry, and blackberry…


Why driving across the border into the USA puts me on edge

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Photo by AndrewLozovyi from DepositPhotos

As a Canadian, I’ve been reluctant to wade into this latest round of conversations about gun violence mass shootings in the United States. But after reading and watching dozens of stories over the last four days, there is one story I’ve not seen enough coverage about — the impact of gun culture on a person’s mental health and sense of well-being.

And on that topic, I’ve had some experience.

In the early 2000s, I had the good fortune of being paid to work in Sri Lanka. I took two trips that each lasted about three weeks. I stayed and worked…


I’m patiently waiting for my turn

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Image by Virgil Newsome from Pixabay

He was my first love. His penis was the first I ever touched. I never saw it, but I felt it under the blanket while we played cribbage in the living room at my house.

I was a year older than him — 16 when we met. He moved to our small town when his dad became the minister of our church. Clearly, his family were good people and my family was happy he and I became friends.

Because he and I didn’t have any classes together, I rarely saw him in our giant, 3,000 student, regional high school. But…

Danika Bloom

Romance author. Speaker of things best not said in polite company. My books on Amazon: amazon.com/author/danikabloom

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