Dare: Spring 2000 Volume 2, No. 1

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Index

• Editorial
• Needs & Wants
• Tell It Like It Is
• Chick Stuff
• Guy Speak

Editorial

The Paradox of Change...

by R. M. Schmitt

Year two... I still shake my head sometimes in wonder at the realization that Dare is venturing into its second year of publication. I must thank each and every one of you, readers, contributors, friends, enemies, supporters, motivators, thank you one and all and so we will continue and change and ebb and flow... I have things on my mind for this editorial, usually I start with a blank slate but not for this issue... It is Spring once more and with the bounty of birth and renewal I am as ever feverish and yet, this year oddly reflective... The reflection stems in part from a recent tragic event - something some of you may have only paid a passing moment's notice to in the daily news... On April 8th of this year an aircraft crashed in the arid clime of Marana, Arizona. Nineteen lives were lost. This singular moment resonated immeasurably with the loved ones and friends of all those who perished. And yet, it touched the lives of countless others as well. It caused me to stop and think and quantify all that is important and significant in my life - here, now, today. It caused me also to recognize that all that matters to me most in this place and time may mean little, 5 or 10 or 20 years from now... And so, what is it then, that really does matter most? What are the things that drive us, that touch us, that move us and stay with us and are not lost from this moment into the next and the next and the next...?

I can answer these ruminations only by saying this - it is the one thing, the one person, the one moment that changes you irrevocably that lingers, that stays with you, that is irreplaceable over time, that will never be lost in your memory despite the weathering of time... When you finally recognize and identify such a thing, such a person, such a moment - it is a true and wondrous revelation, like the renewal of Spring - like the recognition of a new life itself.

And so it is the change that is the thing - that is the catalyst for keeping our memories whole - for making us into the people that we are - that we want to be. But, change has a price and sometimes that price is very high. Change then, in a way is almost like saying "good-bye" - relinquishing that one thing, that one person, that one moment so that we may rise like a Phoenix from the ashes, and try once again to reinvent ourselves, spiritually, physically, and yes, even sexually...

This evolution begs the question then of who, as individuals, are we really? And, are our intimacies as unique as the people we share them with? How many wholes then, actually reside in the one single shell you know as "yourself"? And will you ever really know or be able to reconcile them all? Rhetorical questions? Perhaps. Or maybe these questions are merely mysteries to all and revelations to none - the answers themselves locked away within us all...

Such are the ruminations I have this Spring as I say "good-bye" to so much and look forward to change without measure...

This issue of Dare is caught then in the libido of change... You'll notice the beginnings of a fresher look in the form of some new logos sported about on various pages. (Thank you Steve Parrish - our volunteer graphic designer and web developer extraordinaire- and here's where we put in a plug for Steve's graphic design talents by directing you to his web site, Steven Parrish Designs.) - stay tuned for more visual improvements in the coming months... In our department areas - Needs & Wants presents an intimate look at the evolution of long-term love and all it has to offer.... On the Truth or Dare page you'll find we're ditching the "Daring Letter" segment and are toying with the idea of replacing it with something else - we just haven't figured out what yet... We also should note that we are not completely caught up in the poetic waxing of reflection for the entirety of this issue. Heavens no! We'll never get quite that serious... Just take a look at Oceania's Tell It Like It Is column and the nitty-gritty factoids to be had in this issue's Chick Stuff, and you'll see plenty of the typical Dare peeking out....

And so here we are - off on our second year of publication. Again, our gratitude to all of you as we venture on. We dare you to stay with us no matter where our ever-changing paths may lead...

Aquí estamos al fin frente a frente
Nos hemos encontrado
Nos hemos perdido nada
(from Carlos Neruda's "Oda y Germinaciones")

Viva bien,

R. M. Schmitt
DareEditrix

Needs & Wants

Confessions of Another Kind -"Addicted to Love..."

by Niki Krauss

Reading Anonymous' story, "Confessions of a Sex Addict" (Dare, Winter 2000), makes me wonder if all the things she said about liking who she is, having high self-esteem, and no problem in the confidence department are actually true. My purpose here is not to put Anonymous down in any way. I am truly a believer in the "to each his own" lifestyle and if you're not hurting anyone else, who am I to say that what you're doing is not the best way for you. (But the "and yes, I've slept with married men" comment kind of takes Anonymous out of the "not hurting anyone else" category.) But, I digress. Reading her story also made me take a look inward at my own feelings about sex. Thus, I want to share another look at sex with you, completely different from that of Anonymous.

There are plenty of women out there who consider themselves contemporary, modern women - happy to be single, independent, making their own way in the world, and having sex with lots of guys and loving it. I think if they're truly happy that's wonderful. But, I know of some awesome feelings that they will never experience with that kind of lifestyle. Those feelings come from making love with the person that you've shared your life with in a long-term relationship. (By long-term, I mean over many, many years.) Unless you've reached that point in your life, it's hard to imagine what I'm talking about. You see, I've been married to the same man for 24 years, though we've actually been together for 30. I'll be 45 in a few weeks and have loved this man since I was 15 years old. I quit counting the men I've slept with at one. Does that make me less sexy or less attractive to men? I don't think so. Like Anonymous, I too work in the world out there with men, enjoy the company of men, dabble in the flirtation game occasionally, and have met men who've made me fantasize - but, I have to tell you that the only one who makes my knees go weak is the man I've loved all my life. He who knows just how to touch me, what makes me whimper, what turns me to fire - all that has come from a lifetime of making love. My guy has come home from work to find me in black stockings, high heels, and a string of pearls. There have been nights when all we've had for dinner is each other. I can even think of times when I've been so hot for him that he barely even had to touch me to make me come (again, and again, and again...). My point here is that sex can be hot, sweaty, and exciting - even after 30 years together.

Our love has also given us two truly awesome gifts - our sons who are now grown men. When I look at them my heart swells with love not only for them, but especially for their dad who made them with me.

What prompted me to write this story after reading Anonymous' article was something I experienced a couple of weeks ago that made me think about all that's missing from a lifestyle of sleeping around. On this particular Sunday afternoon, my husband went in to take a shower after running. I was feeling kind of warm and fuzzy and in the mood for a little afternoon delight. So while he was in the shower, I closed the shades; lit some candles; turned on a slow, sexy CD; stripped down to the skin; and got under the sheets. He was more than a willing partner when he came out of the shower. It was a wonderful way to spend a Sunday afternoon, but what made it extraordinary was the end. As we lay there, still joined together, a song started playing that was one that we used to sing to each other - oh, about 27 or 28 years ago when we were dating. We would change the words, and it would always have us laughing our heads off when we sang it. When I heard that song after our lovemaking it took me back over all of the years we've shared. Our whole lives together ran through my mind while we lay there and listened to that song. All of the things we've shared; the secrets no one knows but us; the difficult times we've endured; the incredible, joyous moments we've had - all of that came rushing back to me. It brought tears to my eyes and a true appreciation of what this man has meant in my life.

So having sex with 40 or 50 different men may sound like an exciting way to live your life. And you might come to think of yourself as a sex addict and feel proud of it. But, making love with the one man who means everything to you makes you feel so... it's hard to find the words to explain how it makes you feel... All of the excitement of raw sex is there, but maybe "addicted to love" is a better way to explain these "indescribable" feelings.

I know I'm lucky, that not every woman will find someone she'll love all of her life - especially when she's only 15 years old. But if you do, you know that "Love 'em and leave 'em," "Hump 'em and dump 'em" cannot begin to compare to sex with the man you've loved forever - the one who makes your knees go weak at just the thought of his touch... The one you know so well...

Niki Kraussis an editor for a monthly professional journal. She and her husband "Jo-boo" have been married for 24 years. She is also the newest member of Dare's editorial staff, and we are ecstatic to have her!

Tell It Like It Is

May the Permanent Be Temporary

by Oceania

Like many women today I work in a male dominated field. I am a web mistress of an erotic adult story site. I am over 40. I am very comfortable with my age, weight, and sexuality, but I weigh fashion decisions carefully. I don't dress in leather and stiletto heels. I don't give in to trendy new "dos."

So, I can safely say I am confident within my skin. But, some days after spending my mornings on research, looking at structurally engineered women, I feel old. Today is one of those days.

So what do you do when you feel down? Well, you take Mom's advice and buy a new pair of shoes or you get a new haircut. The shoes I want are a mere $150 dollars. They are so Marilyn Monroe, I could just cream looking at them. But, they are only available on the net. And, I have a foot that requires me to try a shoe on before buying. So, that leaves me with the "feel good" option of a new hairdo.

I say that very tongue in cheek. There is something about hairdressers that make me feel 10 years old. My usual confident self digresses to a weak and timid position. I feel helpless. Quite frankly, I feel helpless in their hands.

Perhaps it is the fact that I have never gone to an expensive salon and talked to a true expert in the field. This rationale brightens my disposition.

I make a call to a very posh salon, discuss my plan of action with the owner. He is confident that his salon can do me justice. I am smiling. I set the appointment for later that day.

I am so excited, I can't get any work done. I pour a glass of wine, run a bath, and start to enjoy the luxury of pampering early.

Four-thirty rolls around. Off I go through wind and rain and sleet. I feel like the postman all bundled up as I trudge to the beauty salon armed with a picture of Geena Davis and an inner glow... knowing that in a few short hours, I will be a new woman.

My hairdresser looks me up and down as she introduces herself. Ignoring her look of disdain I hand her the picture, telling her I am ready for a change. I am tired of the casual just-got-of-bed look I have been wearing. I want to feel glamorous.

I point out how Ms. Davis' hair seems to possess sensuality. I trace the contour of the soft curl that crosses her face. I tell her about a web convention in New Orleans and my need to feel glamorous - old movie star glamour.

She is staring hard at me. I feel the insecurity creeping up my spine as I ask timidly if she could do this for me.

She studies the picture for a long while and then smiles. I relax and sigh. She asks me a few questions and smiles some more. I sit in the chair. She turns me to face the window. It is snowing. It reminds me of the phrase silent death. This passes my mind just as she lops five inches off my length.

I gasp. Ok, it is only hair, but it was my hair. I sit horrified, she asks to see the photo again. My hand barely moves as I lift the magazine clipping up to her view.

"Oh, that's Geena Davis. Well I didn't recognize her. Hmm... looks like this is a layer cut," she adds to no one in particular. She chops more off the back.

I close my eyes breathing in slow, decisive breaths. Picturing how I will look in my new hairdo, I recite my mantra, "It is only hair, it is only hair..."

Several long minutes later she speaks again. "Does your hair take curl?" she asks I shake my head no. "Well, then you'll need a body wave to hold the curl, hon'. I'll just get my stuff."

The scissors are put away and a tray of curlers come out. I clutch my magazine clipping to my chest.

One by one she wraps tiny strands of hair. It is an assembly line process. Two paper wrappers and a curler, then spritz and wind. Two paper wrappers and a curler, then spritz and wind. This is repeated 102 times. Every so often she interjects that I have very fine hair and lots of it, as if that were a curse.

I close my eyes tighter.

Thirty minutes later, my hair is wrapped tight in pink and white curlers. I look in the mirror. My jaw drops. I feel so plain, so ugly, so vulnerable!

"They really should eliminate mirrors until after the hairdo is completed," I laugh, trying to find some humor in all of this.

The hairdresser is silent. She finds no humor in my statement.

"Ah, the price of beauty," I manage again as she brings in a length of cotton.

Wrapping it around my head, she proceeds to tuck it in under the curlers she has just rolled. There isn't enough room and the cotton slips out and falls in my face. I laugh again, saying that she had better not have a hidden camera snapping pictures for the Internet in here. She looked at me like I need to be committed. I shut up and close my eyes again.

As I sit there silently she mixes the perm solution and dribbles it all over my head and down my back. It is cold and it stinks. I open one eye to steal a peak. I now smell and look older than dirt.

I feel like crying. Instead, I look at her and I silently plot my revenge.

A few seconds later she had a plastic bag over my head in order to keep the solution warm. She asks me to take a seat across the hall in another room.

I get up from my chair and enter the hall, a young woman and her boyfriend look up from their conversation and smirk. I feel like digging a hole and filling it in after me.

I grab a magazine and walk to the other room. Ten minutes pass rather quickly and the hairdresser checks my progress.

"Will the patient live?" I smile.

"Not done yet," she answers ignoring my question. Turning, she leaves me for another 10 minutes.

I return to the article on Jennifer Grey's nose, engrossed in thought that people paid good money to read this article. Again, the time passes quickly. I am ushered back to the original torture chamber and told to take a seat. I do this obediently, anxious for the ordeal to be over. Slowly, the solution is washed from my hair and the neutralizer applied. I pretend to read, afraid to look up.

As she takes out the rollers, one at a time, I look at the pictures of Doris Day, Ava Gardner, and Grace Kelly and wonder if the heyday of glamour will ever return.

My train of thought is interrupted as the hairdresser speaks.

"Hmm...," she says. "Normally you have to wait 48 hours before washing your hair after a perm… but, if the curl is too tight for you....." her voice trails. "You might want to wash it sooner."

"Oh God!" was all I could think.

"…and with time it will grow out," she adds.

"Not reassuring words," I whisper.

"And be sure, if you blow dry it, not to set it too high 'cuz it will cause your hair to frizz. Of course hon' if you don't like this haircut you can call me any time and I will fix it for you."

I look into the mirror. The bride of Frankenstein looks back at me.

She drones on. "I don't work Wednesdays or any afternoon except Monday. And be sure to call at least a day ahead of time… and you might want to get some mousse and slick it back, or put it behind your ears or…"

I stand up, and look her in the eyes, "Are you some kind of sadist? All I wanted was a day of beauty - but..."

Emotions get the best of me and I cry.

Inside I think "Where are the men that Warren Beatty portrayed in 'Shampoo'? Why couldn't I come out of a salon looking like the picture presented - done perfectly, ready for my closeup with DeMille?"

I blow my nose.

"That will be $50 dollars," she smiles ignoring my outbreak of emotions. I write the check and add a tip.

Still reciting my mantra, "it's only hair, it's only hair," I shrug my shoulders in defeat, and head home to wash out the perm, apply hot oil to my scalp, and wait out the next 3 months...

Oceania,self-described piranha and Renaissance woman, is a political activist, wife, mother, webmistress, erotic writer, illustrator, and recording artist with a voice that's been described as being able to melt icebergs and call workers in from the fields. She's recorded over 700 audio and text stories which can be found on adult paysites throughout the Internet, her own sites include Peacock Blue and Lensfucking, and a new content for webmaster site Venetian Dreams.

Chick Stuff

As promised Chick Stuff takes on yet another subject that we'll wager many of you have questions about but - yeah, you know - have typically "been afraid to ask..." What are we talking about? Condoms. Yup, you got it, raincoats, rubbers, sausage covers, latex light sabers... You get the idea... So, when's the last time you actually went out and purchased the old hummer hugger for that special guy, or that potential next special guy...? What? You've never purchased condoms? (No, of course I haven't! What are you nuts? Besides, how the heck am I supposed to know what to buy? I mean, one size fits all? Is red better than blue? Ribbed better than smooth? Shall I go on...?) Okay, we see where you're coming from, and these are all typical questions in today's market where all of us are often faced with "too many choices" and too little information to make informed decisions. Then again, maybe your special guy is hip enough to take care of this business on his own, but what if he isn't? Bottom line, the smart chick doesn't leave such matters to chance... so - better "safe" than "sorry" - agreed? Get it? Got it? Good. That said - we're happy to feature the following article by Cherie Magnus, proprietress ofVive la Différence! Safer Sex Choices for Women.Cherie, who has been selling condoms to women for the past 2 years, addresses what should be the first and foremost consideration when purchasing condoms - protection. You'll also find more detailed information on the myriad choices applicable to condoms available in today's market by visiting theVive la Difference!web site. You know size, style, etc., etc. Thus, without further ado - we dare ya to read on...

R. M. Schmitt
Dare Editrix

Buyer Beware! Novelty Condoms - Fit for the Pit, But Not Safety

by Cherie Magnus

Ooh, what fun! Condoms in clever, humorous packaging, "Glow-in-the-Dark," even an invisible, "liquid condom?" Why would anyone want to use anything else? Unfortunately, not all products labeled "condom" actually offer protection against unwanted pregnancy and disease—the reason most people use them. And a great deal depends on any one condom you're using at any particular moment of truth!

So as someone who makes her living selling men’s condoms to women, I want to bring your attention to a few kinds of products out there which you need to know about if you're purchasing condoms with protection in mind.

First are those "novelty" condoms you see in adult stores and joke shops, sometimes also in condom stores. Cute and comical, but not the same thing as real, FDA-approved condoms with an expiration date. The condom wrapper itself should say something like, "Effective against pregnancy, HIV (AIDS) and STDs." (I copied this off the Durex Rainbow condom that we carry at Vive la différence!)

Novelty condoms may come in sealed paper packets with a joke printed on them. For example, I've got one that looks like plain wrap, with the label, "USED RUBBERS for Real Cheap Fuckers." On the back is a cartoon of a woman saying, "Love is always better the second time around." Funny, right? Yes it is, but if you look closely at the fine print, it says sold as a novelty item only, and in teeny, tiny print on the back, "Not to be used for the prevention of conception or disease. Not to be used as a substitute for a condom."

The trouble is, that if this condom becomes separated from the outside packaging, there would be no way to know it's only a novelty. It looks like the real thing, and it might be used with the mistaken idea that it offers safety.

We get requests all the time for "Glow-in-the-Dark" condoms, but up to now, these too have been novelty items only. In other words, fun toys, but not defense. And most people are unaware that these popular items are not the real thing. A genuine, honest-to-goodness FDA-approved, high-quality condom that glows in the dark will hopefully soon be available, and then we'll be carrying those. Stay tuned if you're into playing in the dark!

Another kind of novelty condom is the kind I saw in Europe last winter. Molded and hand-painted, they come in every shape and design you can think of. I bought a smiling quarter moon, a green frog, and a red and yellow mushroom. (I was tempted by the Santa Claus.) They are packaged in clear plastic domes, with the exact same warning as above printed on the bottom of the container.

Dutch users aren’t left to discover the admonition on their own, however. When I bought these condoms at the Condomeriein the Red Light District in downtown Amsterdam, the clerk handed me three real condoms as she cautioned that the fancy ones were novelties only, and had to be worn over an approved condom for safety. In other words, if you wear one of these puppies, you need to double condom yourself to be safe.

Then there's the question of the Liquid Condom. Sounds great, right? I first heard about this one at the AVN Adult Expo last summer when I was asking a video porn producer why his actors didn't wear condoms. He said, "Oh no problem, they have this invisible liquid condom you just use like a lube and it prevents everything - pregnancy, HIV, herpes, you name it."

Well, my first thought was, "What kind of gosh-awful chemicals are these people putting inside themselves? If it kills everything, what does it do to one's internal organs?" So many people are allergic to Non-oxynol 9, the traditional spermicide, so what about this?

Thus, after the show, I researched this "amazing" product. It seems it was developed in Canada by Dr. Michel G. Bergeron in 1997. It has not yet been approved by the FDA, but is being sold in this country with claims of its effectiveness while waiting on the formality of approval. A lot of its users want to think that it's a done deal and a dream come true. Well, I for one, wouldn't want to trust my life, or anyone else's, to claims that may or may not be true. So, I'll just wait for official approval before touting the Invisible Condom.

If it does prove to be effective and non-toxic to the users, it'll be fantastic. Except for the fact that if it's invisible, there's no way to prove anyone is using it. Sounds as vague as The Pill for men. I mean your partner might say when asked about protection, "Oh no problem, I'm using an invisible condom," and who would know? Only when pregnancy or disease is the result, I suppose. Sounds like the Emperor's New Condom to me!

So just remember, don't take chances, and a little reading goes a long way. Bottom line ladies - better safe than sorry! Wanna know more, then feel free to visit my site: Vive la différence! Safer Sex Choices for Women or write to us at 4477 Hollywood Blvd., Suite 208, Los Angeles, CA 90027 (Telephone: (323) 666-2687, Fax: (323) 666-2608).

Cherie Magnus is proprietress of Vive la difference!

Guy Speak

This month's Guy Speak is a reprint from a new online 'zine called Erudyte. Erudyte bills itself as the "thinking man's magazine..." Below is an excerpt from Erudyte's March 2000 issue. We'd like to thank Mark Martens (Erudyte publisher) for allowing us to reprint this piece and we encourage all of you to check out his site when you feel so inclined...

Regards,
R. M. Schmitt
Dare Editrix

v v v

THE 'OVARY' RESPONSE

by Mark Martens

You meet a woman you are interested in. So you try to interact. You go to the same places, make excuses to talk to her, hang out with her friends, and maybe even try to invite her places. She accepts the attention but only barely. Avoids acknowledgments unless you do first, and seems so independent of whether you are there, or not, that it's unnerving. Her conversations with you may be thin and brief, like she has somewhere else to go. Sometimes, just having a conversation, she makes you feel like she is doing you a favor. Maybe she invites you somewhere one time, and then shows up with another 'friend'. In spite of the ego bruising you take it further. She says she likes you, but all the while the process of getting to know each other is a one-sided effort. It feels like you are swimming upstream pulling her on a raft behind you. Also, you are not happy about it, but you want her badly and feel lucky to get what you have.

Once you sleep with her, suddenly, everything changes. Pretty soon, you can do no wrong. She practically 'gushes' over you and wants to be with you all the time. You hear her repeating things you say, and wants to hang out with all your friends. Soon, she becomes dependent on you, and has lost that 'independence' that attracted you so much in the first place.

What happened? How did she swing 180 degrees from the 'I'm doing you a favor' posture, to the 'you and I are one' posture. After all, you are the same guy now as you were in the first place. Perhaps even you are no longer so excited about her and may be losing interest. Before you were totally challenged but unhappy because of the uncertainty, and now you are totally unchallenged and unhappy because of the 'opposite'. And by the way, why did all this happen right after you had sex together?

This phenomenon is what I call the the "Ovary Response". The suitor for this girl (the behavior is more common to young girls), like a sperm seeking the ovary, must accomplish the metaphorical equivalent of swimming a marathon upstream, followed by a wrestling match to the death with a giant Michelin man... with his hands tied behind his back! He will struggle like the dickens to get in, but if he penetrates beyond a certain critical threshold, everything changes. From that point on the "ovary" will completely absorb him, and invest all her efforts in him. Also, from that point on she will be unreceptive to all others. Just like the real ovary!

If the psychology and the behavior seem to bear an uncanny resemblance to the biology, it's no accident. That is where the behavior comes from. If this wasn't so long already I would analyze the man's response (as described here) too. But, who cares why men do those things anyway...

Check out Erudyte to see what responses Mark had to his musings above...