2013-05-19T07:20:45-04:00 Delaine Moore http://www.huffingtonpost.ca/author/index.php?author=delaine-moore Copyright 2008, HuffingtonPost.com, Inc. HuffingtonPost Blogger Feed for Delaine Moore Good old fashioned elbow grease. tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2013:/theblog//3.3185976 2013-05-01T12:20:20-04:00 2013-05-01T12:20:32-04:00

Delaine Moore http://www.huffingtonpost.com/delaine-moore/ "no-nupts." In case you're unfamiliar with this term, no-nupts -- short for "no-nuptial" agreements -- are written contracts for couples who live together, but aren't planning to marry.

Sometimes they get as detailed as who pays what bills and who does what household chores, but more commonly, they lay out what happens around property, joint outgoings, and inheritance, in the case of a split.

Now just for the record, my boyfriend and I are NOT planning to move into together. But in response to his question, I said I'd definitely be "open" to the idea. After all, having been through a divorce, I know that despite our best intentions, love isn't always forever. And when it comes to finances, I think it's smart for people to protect what's already theirs; it's nothing personal.

But then I talked to my divorced friend Hali, a certified financial planner, who also studied a year of law:
"I totally disagree! I don't believe in no-nupts whatsoever," she said. "The wealth that a man possesses before meeting you is already protected from you and vice versa. The law is only interested in what you have earned and accumulated during the time of your relationship."

I then spoke to my divorced friend Tara, who's also a financial planner, and who recently split from her "almost" common law boyfriend. I thought for sure she'd be more on my side, especially since more to lose financially than her boyfriend:

"I'm afraid I agree with Hali," she laughed. "And I've researched it a lot. The thing that concerned me more about us becoming common law was that I was going to lose thousands of dollars in tax breaks and Child Benefit Tax Credits and GST cheques. But a no-nupt wouldn't stop that from happening anyway; those are Canada Revenue Laws. "

On a more personal level, Tara added: "The biggest problem I see with no-nupts is that they draw an invisible emotional boundary between the two of you. And when it comes to creating a serious future with someone, you have to be ALL in, or redefine what you are."

To which Hali replied: "The boundary a no-nupt draws between you isn't 'invisible' -- it's right there, in a contract! And it says, "I need to protect myself from you." You, the person I love most in this world, I now need protecting from. That's insane. If my brother moved in with me for two years, I wouldn't feel I need to protect myself from him and make him sign a contract."

Final thoughts?

Tara: "Put your time and money into a good financial planner and relationship coach -- not a no-nupt and legal bills."

And Hali? "No-nupts aside, I think the craziest thing anyone can do is move in with someone without being on his land title. Hold onto your own property if you aren't.?

And me? I'm rethinking my stance on no-nups. Thanks goodness I told my boyfriend I'd be "open" to it, not, "I'd do it!"

]]> tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.1869514 2012-09-10T12:00:31-04:00 2012-11-10T05:12:01-05:00

Delaine Moore http://www.huffingtonpost.com/delaine-moore/
It was an hour into our first meeting that he revealed it to me. By that point, I was already pretty intrigued by him: he seemed smart, well-spoken, and had a great sense of humour. And OK, I'll admit I was deeply aware of his killer smile, giant shoulders, and athletic six foot four frame. Firefighter pin-up, anyone?

Here's the catch. This large, manly, uber sexy hunk has an unusual desire: He wants to be my domestic. That's right. Domestic. As in as in down on his hands and knees, cleaning my toilets and floors and whatever else I want him to do.

Oh, and he wants to do it for free, whenever I want, wearing whatever I want him to wear. And while he scrubs away, I can do whatever I please whether that means taking a nap, talking on the phone, or putting my feet up and watching him clean.

Now I've heard of men who enjoy being submissive to women. (I said heard of, not gone out with.) And having been a submissive myself to a Dominant after my divorce, I understand that submissiveness can involve a variety of tasks and roles (chores weren't part of mine!).

Still, his offer totally caught me off guard. He looked like he should be off fighting fires or operating a bull dozer, not delicately polishing my shoes...

His giant shoulders leaned into the table and he said, almost pleadingly. "I need you to be certain that you won't feel guilty in such an arrangement. I think most women would. I don't want you feel indebted to me. You have to believe that me cleaning your toilets is my role."

"Hmmm..." I responded slowly, nodding my head. "I see."

"That's really important to me," he said more emphatically, yet respectfully. "You can not feel guilty for making me clean your house. Even if I don't enjoy it, you're the boss. If I don't do it good enough, you're entitled to make me redo it until it's up to your standards. The terms are 100 per cent yours to decide."

"I see," I said again. Long pause. Then: "Well...if being a domestic is what you need to do to feel good then who am I to judge? The truth is that I could really use the extra help around the house while the kids are in school." (laugh)

He smiled and bowed his chin. "I will please you however you want, Ma'am."

I caught the innuendo and couldn't help but grin. "ANY way I want?"

"You're the boss, Ma'am."

So what do you think? Do you think I'm crazy to even consider this proposition? Or would I be crazy NOT to accept? Would you feel too guilty to even entertain the idea?]]> tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.1612506 2012-06-21T07:50:57-04:00 2012-08-21T05:12:05-04:00

Delaine Moore http://www.huffingtonpost.com/delaine-moore/
I wrote about that incident last year here on the Huffington Post. And reader reactions were strongly divided, from mighty applause to others calling me a "home-wrecker" and a "woman with anger issues."

"Did I make the right decision?" I asked myself over and over. All roads of my analysis lead to the answer, "yes" No doubt it was painful information for his wife to hear. Yes, I was angry and hurt when I told her, too. But having been the victim of infidelity during my marriage, I knew what it was like to sit at home with the kids while husband dearest had his cake and ate it too. More than anything, I wished someone had had the balls to tell me.

Thus, after a year of no communication with this man or his wife, I decided to email her this week. My goal was not to find out if they'd broken up, rather, to ask if she despised me for telling her. This is the message I received back:

"Delaine,

I do not despise you. On the contrary I'm still glad that you told me. I've become a much stronger woman since last year, making decisions that are good for me and my future, including working part-time. I'm speaking my mind a lot more with "Brian" around a lot of issues. And he, in turn, has become a much better husband than ever -- supportive, communicative, and a lot more mellowed out.

I think ignorance is not bliss. I would rather know than not, because then I cannot be a victim and say I had no idea what he was, or is capable of.

After you told me, my marriage was rocky for quite some time. I wasn't sure if I wanted to stay or go. But time and much communication helped me realize that his cheating with you was one small indiscretion in 20 years (that I can prove) and that was a case of man trying to show off to a bunch of idiot friends. And though I highly doubt that his version of events from that night are true, I've chosen to move on and be happy where we are.

If he ever cheats again, we will be done. He has been banned from hanging out with those Stampede friends, though they do have business dealings on occasion. A couple of months ago, he went with them to a hockey game. He was home by 11 o'clock, while the others headed out to the strippers.

I do have moments when I remember back to all that happened, aand the feelings that surface are not pleasant. But I remind myself of how much things have changed in a year and realize I've never been happier. I'm content with my choice, Delaine, but my eyes are wide open."


So there you have it folks -- one year later and straight out of the victim's mouth. Are you surprised?

I'm not.

]]> tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.1472385 2012-05-08T17:00:09-04:00 2012-07-08T05:12:08-04:00

Delaine Moore http://www.huffingtonpost.com/delaine-moore/
But there came a time, about two years ago, when I realized I was 100 per cent happy on my own. I was healed, confident and passionate about my new life. And I felt that if/when a serious relationship was to come my way, I would be READY.

(Cue the universe laughing.)

My boyfriend Jacob entered my life seven months ago. And all I can say is that all my "readiness" didn't prepare me for the forthcoming growing pains; turns out, my being 'happily independent' spawned a new set of challenges I hadn't anticipated.

You see, somewhere during the course of my post-divorce singlehood, my "value hierarchy" had changed -- and "serious relationship" was no longer at the top of my list as it had been while married. In fact, it was down around eighth place. My top singlehood values looked something like this:

1. My kids
2. My career/finances
3. My health, My well being, My happiness
4. My family and friends
5. Dating/sex

And I lived my new life in accordance with these values; they helmed my day-to-day actions and choices.

But when Jacob came into my life, the value hierarchy flew into mutiny. "Serious relationship" was once again vying for first or second place, as is required to make a healthy relationship work. And all that independence, and self-care and personal success I'd cultivated since divorcing felt threatened. They screamed, "Are you freaking crazy?!! Have you forgotten the hell you've been through? This man can take a place at the bottom of the list, thank you very much!"

Fears began surfacing fast and hard: What if this relationship takes away from precious time with my kids? What if our relationship takes my focus off work? What if I've gotten used to sleeping by myself all these years? What if - what if -what if? At the core I was being challenged to think in terms of "we" not "me and the kids," to see how having a serious relationship would accentuate all the top values on my hierarchy, not destroy them. But it would require that I believe in love again and risk venturing down a path that I well-knew could end in break up. I was scared to death -- and doubts in me, him, life and love rattled my bones.

Thus far, I've been able to appease (most of) my fears -- with Jacob's help -- one day at a time, one mini- freak-out at a time. But I won't say it's been easy (Jacob will attest to that!)

"Happily independent Delaine" still digs in her heels. It seems that loving again, TRULY loving again after divorce, requires one to be vulnerable and courageous in ways she/he never has before...don't you think?]]> tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.1396974 2012-04-02T16:09:21-04:00 2012-06-02T05:12:01-04:00

Delaine Moore http://www.huffingtonpost.com/delaine-moore/ The Secret Sex Life of a Single Mom, as their April pick. So great was their enthusiasm that they also asked if I might attend their meeting in person. I agreed wholeheartedly -- discussing my book's core messages around sexual and personal awakenings would be a huge honor for ME.

But out of the blue came yesterday's phone call:

"I really don't want to hurt your feelings, Delaine," the organizer said slowly yet kindly. "But a few women have already finished reading your book. And I guess it's causing some strong reactions and serious discomfort...

"You have to remember that every woman in this book club is married and most are in their 30s," she continued. "We don't openly talk about our sex lives like you have in your book. We certainly don't talk about whether or not we, or our husbands, have had affairs. And none of us have personally gone through a divorce or experienced what it's like to date after divorce...

"Honestly Delaine, in all the years we've met as a group, a book has never catalysed so much conversation and controversy as yours has, and we haven't even held the meeting yet! But I think having you there will just be too much for some of the women to handle.

"I'm so very sorry, please don't take this personally...but I have to 'un-invite' you from attending the meeting."

I hung up the phone feeling calm yet rather shaken. It's not that I was offended; none of these women even knew me, so why would I take their "rejection" personally? What ate at me was wondering which parts of the book were THAT "uncomfortable" for them. Was it when I received a phone call in the middle of the night from my husband's mistress? Was it my sexual curiosity -- perhaps the fact that I learned to G-spot orgasm with a man I casually dated, or that I once attended a sex club? Was it that I dated younger men or that I flew off to a different country to meet a handsome sexual Dominant?

Even if readers disagreed with ALL the sexual choices I'd made, I still couldn't help but feel perplexed. For all these "events" were not my STORY. My story -- its core message -- lies in the immense personal and sexual empowerment I experienced as I moved forward in the aftermath of divorce and infidelity. In my eyes, wouldn't ALL women -- married or not -- applaud another woman's empowerment during crises, even if stemmed from her sexuality?

But I know that people judge others through the looking glass of their own personal experiences. And if they've never been divorced or betrayed, if they've never had to start over from scratch and rebuild not only their lives but their identities, then the risqué subjects I cover might be way beyond the scope of their empathy or comprehension. Worse still, if any reader is unhappily married, she could very well feel ruffled or threatened by my book's themes -- and pointing fingers and pontificating morality would be the easiest way of justifying her unhappiness and feeling safe.

(Sigh) I didn't write my book to advocate my path or my choices as right or iconic for all women. All I did was share my story... with transparency, honesty and courage. How men and women react to it is plain and simply beyond my control. That it has ruffled some feathers and stormed conversation means it has made women think, question, and feel; I can only see that as a positive.

But I can't help but wonder if I'd still be invited to this book club if I'd lied and said my book was fiction. ]]> tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.1370587 2012-03-26T02:00:28-04:00 2012-05-25T05:12:02-04:00

Delaine Moore http://www.huffingtonpost.com/delaine-moore/ 50 Shades of Grey, an erotic novel complete with bondage, discipline and power fantasy role-playing, I actually find myself breathing a little easier...

Because it's something I've experienced in real life. Moreover, I chose to tell the world about it in my just-released memoir (gulp). And at the back of my mind I've always worried, "Is everyone going to think I'm a freak for this?"

My curiosity around BDSM and Dominance/submission (D/s) arose during the first year after my divorce. I was going through a sexual reawakening and personal metamorphosis, open to learning more about myself, relationships and my body. For some reason, scenes from the movie, 9 1/2 Weeks kept flashing through my mind too. There was just "something" in how Kim Basinger and Mickey Rourke connected -- how he seemed to "see" her, intuit her, push her beyond her boundaries and in turn, empower her to know herself more. That connection spoke to me, though I didn't understand how or why. It wasn't until I began talking to "Sir John the Dom" -- a sexual Dominant from the United States -- that I even realized that that movie was about D/s...

(Shaking head) I had so much to learn.

A D/s relationship, in its truest form, is all about the submissive, John explained to me. It's about her wants, her needs, her fantasies. Some of her desires may be conscious, but others may be locked in her subconscious. The Dom's job is to build a bond so strong with her that she feels safe enough, connected enough with him, to unleash her creativity and explore her innermost self. Through submission, she actually becomes empowered because she connects with her body, heart and mind in much deeper ways.

"Trust. Honesty. Communication. And respect," he said firmly. "Remember those four words. Those are the four pillars that a genuine D/s relationship is built upon. And until they are in place with any dom, always meet in a public place and always keep your clothes on," he warned, "because there are men out there who use D/s as a way to abuse women -- they think the sex is all about them, that they can 'take' whatever they want. A Dom never abuses or 'takes away,' Delaine... he only builds."

After many months of getting to know John, those four pillars gradually grew strong and firm. Our relationship then became more psychological -- a battle of the minds. I "tested" him constantly long before we became sexually involved -- mouthing off, ignoring him, deliberately trying to arouse him. I wanted to see if I could break his self-control; find a crack in his armour, so to speak.

But he always remained in control; patient, calm, and sometimes even amused. His goal was to make me learn more about me and MY needs. For that to happen, I had to be the one who went to him.

No doubt, much of what I experienced sexually with John involved my being physically "forced." And my "need" to experience that was scary and weird to me -- it seemed dark... twisted... violent. I feared some part of me longed to be abused.

But I now realized that my fear was misguided. The sexual and physical control John exerted over me actually empowered me, not stole my power. The sex we'd shared had been the final gateway -- a passage through which I was able to learn to trust a man again and to claim the ecstasy and power of my sexual energy as my own. Nothing he did to me was without my consent -- and beyond the bedroom, our relationship was as loving and "equal" as any other healthy relationship.

But what this sexual exploration did do was "add" to me; I became more of Delaine. I became more confident. I was more in tune with my passion and creativity and saw the value in keeping those channels open. I had more faith in her my body's intuition and no longer quashed it without listening. And most importantly, I felt freer and more capable of expressing my wants and needs -- not just in bed, but in life.

Ladies, are you allured or repulsed by BDSM and D/s? Why do you think some women relegate it to "fantasy only" vs. acting on it in reality?


RELATED: 7 Steps to Mind-blowing Sex by Marcia Sirota
]]> tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.1341767 2012-03-14T10:19:24-04:00 2012-05-14T05:12:01-04:00

Delaine Moore http://www.huffingtonpost.com/delaine-moore/
Loving mom, dedicated friend,
Had sex with two different men in one weekend. Devoted her life to worrying about it.

But now that a few days had past since last weekend's promiscuity, my mind was at war with itself and my body. Why the heck did I call it "promiscuity" anyway? I hated that word. It was so judgmental and, well, limiting. Why couldn't I think of it as "sexual exploration"? Yes, that sounded way more empowering.

Where had this shrill, paranoid voice inside my head come from? Was it high school? Man, I perseverate! I thought back 23 years to that crazy self-defining time when I heard whispered rumors about "so and so" being a slut. Talk was vicious and spread like wildfire. No one had a clue how to keep a secret at that age, and once a girl was labelled, she was marked for good.

High school may have acted as a launch pad for my beliefs, but they were most certainly reinforced and drilled home afterward. In university, the workplace, the neighbourhood, bars, sometimes even family gatherings, talk about "some woman" was bound to get cheap. It still did.

I'd naively assumed that the popularity of TV shows like Sex in the City and Desperate Housewives indicated that times had changed, that women could be seen as respectable and moral and sexual beings. But on closer look, that's really wasn't the case at all, was it? We still held our breaths when our favourite characters fell into bed with yet another man. They could only make so many mistakes. We still judged their actions: warranted? Or inexcusably whorish?

Then, there were the full-blown slut characters that we loved to hate. Look at Super Slut Samantha Jones who unapologetically "has sex like a man." Carrie and the gang were ahead of the rest of us, accepting and loving and valuing her despite and because of her sexual lifestyle. But how many women would frown and whisper behind her back as soon as she left the table? Or even invited her to lunch in the first place?

And because I'm not just a woman, but a Divorced Mom, the harsh judgments potentially cast my way scare me to death. After all, "decent" divorced mothers should never engage in casual sex, right? Otherwise these women are loose, irresponsible, unfit mothers: the stereotype "divorcee." That's right; the insidious "D" word. Better lock up your husbands, ladies. No -- decent divorced mothers should only want a serious relationship. And they better get on that quick, because with each year that passes, they're apt to grow more bitter and undesirable and desperate. They are women with cargo. Women who failed. Women who didn't deserve any better. Spit.

I'm not even sure where my own judgments and those of society begin and end. All I know is that I never dreamed of waking up at this point in my life as a single mother of three. But reality dose: Here I am! And contrary to what any rulebooks may say, I know beyond any morsel of doubt that I'm not "dried up" and dead! Why can't society trust me to be a good mother (amongst many other things), and allow me to be in charge of my own sexuality? Why should my "adventures," which are helping me to heal, grow, and transform during a radical period of change, be a source of embarrassment or shame?

"We have to be careful about who we discuss our dating lives with," my best friend Hali who was also divorcing, had warned me a month back. "You and I want to talk about this stuff because it's exciting and scary and we're suddenly single again. And we naturally assume that the people we love will understand us. But the truth is, most people can't relate to it."

Her warning had come after a conversation she'd had with her close, long-time friend Megan over lunch one day. Hali, accustomed to being open and honest with her, was rambling on about a 29-year-old man she'd met at a bar. The more she talked, the more she became aware of the disapproval in her friend's eyes. When she'd confronted Megan about it, her friend replied defensively, "But I'm not judging you! You know I love you."

"Yes you are!" Hali responded. "I can see it in your eyes! We all filter information through our own experiences and then judge it. And you are a dear friend who has three kids and has been happily married for 15 years and you are looking at and judging my situation through your set of glasses! I can feel it."

Ultimately, her friend agreed to disagree, and conversation around dating was indefinitely shut down.

I heeded Hali's warning, but I already knew to restrict who I told of my escapades -- I'd felt my own pangs of caution last summer when I'd met with my "married mom-friends" at a local pub. They were so curious about what single life looked like for a woman of our age. But my intuition kept telling me to be cautious; they were judging me, consciously or not.

It's the difference between not having kids, but having an opinion about motherhood. Having wild sex with multiple partners after separation isn't a pair of shoes most have walked in, and sexual promiscuity is a contentious zone to begin with; it could be hot and juicy, yet still trigger judgement, even moral outrage. Even if the listener is a lovely friend -- a strong, mature, independent mother and career woman -- her ethical boundaries around sex could be rigid and unforgiving. And I don't want to be the next candidate up for a stoning.

(from, "The Secret Sex Life of a Single Mom")]]> tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.1325718 2012-03-12T20:16:26-04:00 2012-05-12T05:12:01-04:00

Delaine Moore http://www.huffingtonpost.com/delaine-moore/
No man I've cared for thus far, my ex-husband included, enjoyed reading books. Sure, they'd scour over a newspaper or the odd motorcycle or hunting magazine. But when it came right down to reading an actual book -- fiction or a non-fiction -- it was brushed off off as "unmanly" or "uninteresting".

It's not that I didn't try -- sometimes I practically pleaded with them to read. But I'd hear:

"Ohhhh, but it's so big."

Or: "Just sum it up for me real quick."

Or: "Are there sex scenes? Naked pictures? Does someone get killed?"

So I'd resort to placing it obviously on their nightstands. Unmistakable. A flashing reminder: READ ME.

Yet there they always remained. Untouched. Unopened. Collecting dust.

So I gave up and accepted. I told myself, "Lots of men don't like to read. It's a personal choice, Delaine."

But you know what?

It always kinda hurt.

And now... now, as I think about what qualities I want in my next partner, that romantic, long-ago vision returns. It's not that I'm expecting an English professor -- it's just that I've learnt quite enough about dirt bikes, hunting and fishing.

I want the sharing, the communication, the stimulation of a like-spirited partner -- on all levels. I want connection, attentive ears, thoughtful responses, maybe even a good debate. I want to watch him scour the pages as he ventures to the same place I eagerly roamed.

Yeah...

I want a partner who will lie beside me and discuss a good book.]]> tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.1256427 2012-02-15T17:09:05-05:00 2012-04-16T05:12:01-04:00

Delaine Moore http://www.huffingtonpost.com/delaine-moore/
So as we sat in his living room, catching up and drinking tea, I had to pipe up: "I just don't understand how a man like you can be 43 and still single when you are such a catch. What's wrong with single ladies today, are they blind?" I said half-jokingly.

He paused for a moment and then replied: "Why would I want a relationship when I have a maid and a chef?"

I laughed. Surely he was joking...right?

But he wasn't. He sat there stone-faced looking at me. Dead serious.

I looked down into my tea, trying to digest my friend's words. But I suddenly felt like he was a complete stranger.

It would have been one thing if he'd said he wasn't ready or interested in a long term relationship; that I could totally respect, whatever his reasons were. But instead, he'd chosen to compare the value of a female partner to that of having a maid or cook. And he did it numerous times as our conversation continued. I was saddened. Appalled. And in some ways, even offended.

As I drove home that afternoon, I suddenly thought of an article I recently wrote. It's about a new catchphrase that has become popular amongst single/divorced women: "I don't need a man." I argue that this statement is false, denigrates relationships and spits on men. If women aren't ready for a serious relationship, then that's what they should be saying, not "I don't need a man" -- these phrases don't mean the same thing or carry the same energy.

It then dawned on me that I'd found the male equivalent to women's nasty catchphrase; that is. "Why have a girlfriend when I can hire a maid or chef?" Whew. It's not so nice on the receiving end.

So tell me guys: Is this something you or your friends say/think? Does it feel good to say, do you joke about it over beers with buddies, and most importantly, do you really believe it? Truth on truth, in your heart of hearts, do you really believe it?

Cause if you say yes, I think you're lying to yourself. And the only person you truly and deeply hurt is yourself.

]]> tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.1208755 2012-01-16T11:35:50-05:00 2012-03-17T05:12:01-04:00

Delaine Moore http://www.huffingtonpost.com/delaine-moore/
It's a subject usually held in silence, behind embarrassment, confusion, sometimes even apathy. It's consoled with inner placations, like "There's more important things in a marriage than sex", or "This is just a phase" or "My attraction will increase when the kids are older."

But at the back of minds, a thought lingers: What if this is forever? What if I'm abnormal? What would outsiders think if they knew the truth about "us"?

Well I'm going to come right out and say it: I despised having sex with my husband when we were married. And I'm not saying this to suggest that he was a bad person or I was a bad person, it was just my truth. And there were many reasons contributing to my disinterest:

1) Exhaustion from having three kids in diapers

2) Hormonal changes from pregnancy

3) Not feeling sexy/desirable in my skin

4) Feeling pressured to have sex and thus, like an "object"

5) The emotional disconnect we experienced outside the bedroom rolled into the bedroom

6) And many others...

Add up all the reasons and basically what it came down to is that I emotionally "closed" to my husband... and soon my legs followed.

That's not to say I didn't try -- in fact, I participated anyway, knowing full-well that if I didn't, emotional retaliation would follow: He'd be grumpy, mean, sarcastic, accusing. It was easier to just close my eyes, smile, pretend... and mentally go somewhere else.

I'm sure that my disinterest in sex, which I come clean on in my upcoming memoir, isn't driven by the same reasons for all married women; after all, no two marriages and no two women are exactly alike.

But I suspect that wives' disinterest in sex is more prevalent than we realize and the thick silence it's veiled in only damages us and our relationships even more.

Thus, I'm inviting you ladies to take this poll, your identities non-traceable. Because if this problem IS more widespread than we realize, the first step is to eliminate the taboo and be honest.

Please be sure to answer both questions.





]]> tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.1187307 2012-01-10T14:39:23-05:00 2012-03-11T05:12:01-04:00

Delaine Moore http://www.huffingtonpost.com/delaine-moore/
I admit that I did the latter: Post-divorce, I gave myself permission to explore myself, my sexuality and the dating trenches in ways I'd never imagined possible -- in satisfying and daring ways, too. The learning I experienced was immense; personal growth on every level. And replacing my self-effacing self-image of wife and mother roused a confidant, independent woman; one who could assert herself, make good choices and own the fiery side of herself.

But I also, very deliberately, kept my dating and sex life very quiet. A secret. One wrong set of ears and I knew I'd be headline news among moms at the school playground, for when it comes to sex and single motherhood, judgements can ring extra loud and venomously.

I know I'm not alone in my sexual exploration and awakenings -- friends and clients have shared with me some of their own. And contrary to what many may like to believe, these women aren't "acting up," riddled with insecurity, or simply "sluts." They are women of different ages with some life experience behind them; women who have realized that their sexuality is ultimately theirs to explore, own and take responsibility for; women who are devoted mothers and caring friends; everyday women who may even live on your street.

So what really is happening in the sex lives of divorced or single moms? Could this group of women, whom society likes to think of as chaste, be amidst a quiet sexual revolution or far from it?

You tell me.
]]> tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2011:/theblog//3.1002605 2011-10-11T09:10:17-04:00 2011-12-11T05:12:01-05:00

Delaine Moore http://www.huffingtonpost.com/delaine-moore/
And I've heard it all over the place: from dinners with girlfriends... to dating sites... to my website for divorced women. Hell, I've even said it myself.

Well today, I've had enough -- I'm calling bullshit on it. For I think we are not just lying to ourselves when we say it, we're spitting on men, whether consciously or unconsciously.

Sure, maybe right now isn't the time when you feel you need a man in your life. Maybe you're hurt. Maybe he cheated on you. Maybe your life is under major reconstruction. Maybe you're learning to be happy on your own for the first time in your life, which is positive, healthy stuff, for sure!

But that's what we should be saying out loud and to ourselves then: "I'm learning to be happy on my own." Not, "I don't need a man." They don't mean the same thing. And something unhealed lies beneath the surface of that yucky catch phrase; it has nothing to do with us women being strong and powerful. It's anger. It's grief. It's a lack of trust. Or any combination of the above.

Imagine, for a moment, if the tables were turned -- that men were the ones announcing, "I don't need a woman." I'd find it startling -- hurtful. Even demeaning. So why is it OK that we do it? Language is a powerful thing... and I think we've crossed the line.

Oh I know we are powerful women. I know we can do it all without a man -- careers, family, friends, travel. And we've proven that. But let me ask you something: that part of you that insists you don't NEED a man, what's its beef with? Is it disgusted by the idea of a loving, intimate, respectful relationship with one person? Is it annoyed with the mere idea of connecting, sharing, openly communicating and being heard by a special man?

Cause I'm going to wager your answers are no. Plus I'm going to remind you that every woman AND man, needs to loved and share their love with a partner... or two...or 10. For it's in our human design, our physicality, our hearts, and souls -- and it's a beautiful thing, this need -- not something we should be denying or stomping on.

And there's some deep-rooted part of us, no matter how we try to repress it, that knows we're lying to ourselves by proclaiming otherwise.

(Would love to hear the thoughts of men around this topic, too.)
]]> tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2011:/theblog//3.945406 2011-09-05T08:00:00-04:00 2011-11-05T05:12:03-04:00

Delaine Moore http://www.huffingtonpost.com/delaine-moore/
But the viewer doesn't see hands venturing anywhere inappropriate. Lips inevitably do unlock. And then what do the beloved duo do? They go home separately.

Pfft. Yeah, right.

There's no doubt in MY mind that 'parting' is a lot more difficult in real life. Especially when one is divorced and experiencing an intense, sexual dry spell. That lovely gentle kiss can very easily become deep kissing -- which causes hands to roam -- which leads to hips pressing, maybe some hair pulling and nail action; and HELLO! Who the hell wants to separate and go home then?

As a divorced woman who doesn't have an active sex life (sigh, blame it on bad luck) -- and hasn't for a long time, I'll honestly admit that if a man dared kiss me right now, and I was more than halfway into him (and he was a good kisser), clothes would be flying off within minutes. I wouldn't have the desire or willpower to show restraint. Nothing short of the roof collapsing would stop me.

I know my admission is very unromantic. I sound impatient, reckless, possibly even cave woman-ish. But if I polled a group of divorced men and women, I bet numbers would tilt more to the carnal side that the virtuous -- despite best intentions or values that insist otherwise. Stopping after a passionate kiss looks good and all in the movies, but it's what you do when you're, say, 15-years-old (or trying to be a good girl so he'll marry you?).

But to write the same script for a fully grown adult? One who knows how good sex feels, who went from a steady stream of sex while married to nada, and whose hormones are verging on a meltdown? C'mon! We're talking Mission (Next to) Impossible!

Sure, if one of the parties involved was self-controlled enough to take charge and pull him/herself away, then yes, perhaps all could unfold according to Hollywood script. "Maybe" the couple would even stand a better chance of a building a healthy, long term relationship. But a man has rarely tried to 'stop' with me post-kiss... even if we were still in his car! How about you?

So I opt to try and avoid first date kisses altogether -- a handshake or hug will do (as I beeline it inside my house.) I personally think it's easier to refrain from everything, than to have to shut things down mid-atomic explosion.

I'm just calling the situation as I see it here. folks. It's not romantic. It's not pretty. But it's darn well honest. What do YOU think?
]]> tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2011:/theblog//3.931483 2011-08-19T14:19:02-04:00 2011-10-19T05:12:02-04:00

Delaine Moore http://www.huffingtonpost.com/delaine-moore/
His admission left me quite tongue-tied. I've never met someone who came right out and said so; or rather, I've never dated someone who believed so. And the more he explained his position to me, the quieter and more pensive I became...

It's not that I've never questioned monogamy before. In fact, in the aftermath of divorce I think it's normal to question it all: love, fidelity, sexuality -- hell ,even the nature of humanity and the animal kingdom...

But my recent experience with the cheating husband, combined with witnessing other friends cheat, my ex-husband's past infidelity, as well as my more sexually liberated attitude since divorcing, got me thinking, "What if having sex with someone other than your partner isn't just a 'lifestyle' choice? What if it's also not an issue of right or wrong? What if our culture has simply indoctrinated us with beliefs around love, commitment, attraction and sex that end up emotionally terrorizing us unnecessarily at some point, or all throughout, our lives?"

As time moves me away from my former marriage, the more I question -- and doubt -- everything and anything. And just as I've learned to separate sex from love since divorcing, I wonder, could I one day learn to separate love and commitment from jealousy? Could that be the next stage in my maturation and evolution?

The truth is that not everyone who cheats is a monster. Nor are they all self-centered, valueless slime-buckets and sociopaths. So if all the people who engage in affairs aren't completely evil, could it be that the issue of having sex outside a relationship/marriage isn't all evil either?

The French man sitting across from me seemed very much a decent, honest man who wore his heart on his sleeve. And I admired him and liked him in many ways -- for his intelligence, his charm, his handsomeness, his open-mindedness and 'joie de vivre'...

But could I walk into a potential relationship with him, knowing it required I give consent to him sharing that 'joie de vivre' between the sheets with other women?

I couldn't. I still just don't think I can, regardless of how hard I try to imagine it, no matter how open and mature I think I am. My social programming, the doctrine I've absorbed, runs too deep. It has roots, connectors, a life force of its own. Blame it on my past hurts, fear, close mindedness, insecurity -- whatever you want... but I'd prefer to have shorter relationships that are monogamous, than a long one broken up by flings or affairs. Otherwise it seems one is giving up before a relationship even has a chance to get off the ground.

Pfft, but as they say, "Never say never." What do YOU think?

]]> tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2011:/theblog//3.916025 2011-08-02T10:53:41-04:00 2011-10-02T05:12:02-04:00

Delaine Moore http://www.huffingtonpost.com/delaine-moore/ husband a couple of weeks ago.

That's right. This here divorce and dating expert got conned by a handsome, sweet- talking cheater.

Back up and let me explain:

It was 6 p.m. on a Tuesday night, right in the middle of the Calgary Stampede. The city -- and the bars -- were packed to the hilt; locals and tourists all playing cowboy/cowgirl.

Shortly after my girlfriends and I arrived at the bar, "Mr. Smooth" descended upon us, inviting us upstairs to a private company party. Off we went... and over the next half hour it became quickly transparent that Mr. Smooth was very interested in me.

He told me he was divorced. Not just divorced but happily divorced. He talked about his single life, his wonderful children, his fulfilling career...

The more I talked to him, the more my attraction to him grew. His energy, his smarts, were sucking me in. I knew he was from Edmonton, and I really don't like the out-of-town thing... but he kept commenting on how intense our 'emotional connection' was; how he really wanted to take me out for a proper elegant dinner and get to know me; how he wasn't just about wanting to have sex. (He also knew it was out of the question cause I had to get home to my kids.)

I'm not going to get into too much more detail; suffice it to say we spent the next seven hours together. Lots of talking, lots of major heavy petting, dancing, drinking, holding hands as we wandered through the bar. And I'll admit it -- I was pretty taken with him. That doesn't happen to me often. Though I'm sure the drinks I'd consumed helped things along...

The bomb came a day and half later. That's when I found out he was married. How? Not through him, I assure you. One of his friends accidentally let the cat out of the bag to one of my girlfriends.

I was mad. Not just mad, I was furious that this guy the audacity to lie to my face over and over all night long -- and he was so good at it. More than that, he mislead me. And for what? So he could feel a different set of boobs for a night? So he could feel like a stud? So what if it was Stampede time, so what if others say "anything goes" during that week. That was bullshit to me. This guy was out doing whatever in the hell he wanted, wasting my time, playing with MY body and MY brain, while meanwhile, I betcha he had a lovely, faithful, sweet wife at home waiting for him to text her goodnight.

Over the next few hours, old hurt resurfaced; my emotions were reacting so strongly I knew something past was being triggered in me: I could relate to 'her' -- how she'd be home waiting, trusting, taking care of the home, taking care of the kids... while husband dearest was out trying to f*** anything that moved.

(sigh)

I found her on Facebook. I looked at her photo and every cell in my body screamed, "You were her. You were her and no one told you for years of your husband's goings-on. Why would you, of all people, deprive her of that knowledge?"

So I wrote her. And I told her. More than that, we spoke on the phone. And when I got off the phone with her I cried. I cried cause I knew how hard it was for her to listen to what I said. I could feel my hands shaking and blood racing as if in unison with hers. I could feel her world crashing in. I could feel the piercing stab of betrayal through her heart.

But when my tears subsided and my blood calmed, I could only think of her final words to me: "Thank you. Thank you for having the courage to tell me."

And I held my shoulders back knowing I'd made the right choice -- for her and me.

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