Dare: Fall 2000 Volume 2, No. 3
Index
- Editorial
- Needs & Wants
- Tell It Like It Is
- Chick Stuff
- Guy Speak
Editorial
Cycling Through the Cosmos...
by R. M. Schmitt
Another Fall is upon us. Where did the Summer go? I must admit I am a warm weather person and although Fall has its bounty of crisp, clear, beautiful days, I have a hard time seeing it as anything other than a precursor of Winter... And, there is something in that thought that always makes me just a little sad, almost as if I know part of my soul will go into hibernation, not reappearing again until Spring... But, I digress into an analysis of seasons, and as always I have more pressing thoughts to bring. Our lives - (as I see it) - are cyclic, like the seasons themselves. Each year we will live and breath and feel Spring, Summer, Fall and alas, Winter. The cycle is inevitable. And, for some of us, more frequently occurring than others. That fact is in direct relation to how we choose to live our lives. Will we be cautious or reckless? Will we be incredibly smart or naive? Will we always pick the lucky number, or are we slated to lose our bets every time...? Who can say... Life is a gamble in most cases and it takes most of us a very long time to figure out exactly how to play...
What is interesting, however, is that each of us seems destined in some form or fashion to repeat the cycles of our lives whether we consciously intend to or not. How many times have you read or heard of the adolescent who becomes an alcoholic, the product of alcoholic parents. Or, of the man who abuses his wife, just as he was once abused... Sometimes, however, the cycles are not so clearly defined, or so "expected"... Take for instance a child who loses his parents (his family) and who then, as an adult, walks away from the very family he has established as his own... What of the girl who always sought out her father's attention, excelling at everything, only to wind up turning tricks on some city street... What of the man who honorably serves his country and then chains himself to the While House fence to protest the policies of his government?
We are all the products of our environments, of the cycles that bore and bred us, and despite our best intentions we can only run so far or so long from our roots...
And what does any of this have to do with a relatively un-noticed E'zine of literary erotica (and assorted other things) published quarterly on the World Wide Web? It has much more to do with it than you might think as it is from the thoughts, notions, and cyclical evolutions of our staff that we bring to you every 3-odd months an assortment of the things that drive us, that appeal to us, that ground us. Because, it is the grounding that makes the circuit - that makes the cycle evolve - if you will... And, you thought we didn't know beans about electronics... Indeed...
That then, brings us to this issue. And you thought we'd never get there... Wrong again... Although we also must pause a moment at this junction (more electrical talk) to pat ourselves and all of you on the back for surpassing the 100,000 mark on our web counter! What an amazing feat - we are humbled and ecstatic all at once. Wonder what our in-print, slick and glossy circulation would be...? Perhaps one of these days we'll answer that question too... But, back to this issue... In the Fall 2000 volume of Dare you'll find many returning authors (cyclic - no couldn't be...). Lee Dresselhaus ventures into the politically incorrect in Guy Speak, while Rachel Lancaster puts to rest once and for all in Chick Stuff the age old question "Does Size Really Matter?" You'll find some decidedly edgy ideas on our Cool Stuff page, some intriguing book reviews on the Reviews page, and as always, some exceptional photography and art on the pages of Dare to Bare. And, we're also happy to say that we're pleased to present some "new voices" on Dare's Fall 2000 Fiction pages.
Regardless of whether or not you agree with (or care about) our views on cyclical life patterns - we hope you'll enjoy this Fall 2000 issue. And, don't forget to check out the Life List... It too is evolving and changing and coming around again - rather like the wheels of an... Oh, never mind. You either get it or you don't at this point. And, well, if you don't we hope you enjoy this issue anyway...
Cosmically and tantrically yours,
R. M. Schmitt
DareEditrix
Needs & Wants
The New Age?
by Jessica
As a newly separated 36-year old woman in the year 2000, I have a problem. Where are all the single men in my age group? Are there any? Personally, I have a theory about that: 1) They are married; 2) They have never been married and therefore, something is seriously wrong with them psychologically; or 3) They are separated/divorced and still enmeshed with their ex-wives. Do I sound a tad bitter? Perhaps I need to expand my social circle. But how does one go about doing that? I don't smoke and don't drink so the bar scene is out of the question. None of my friends know any single men. Obviously, I don't know any single men that I would like to go out with. My local church is nothing but old ladies. My work place is 75% female and the 25% male component is married. What's left?
The Internet? Is this how people meet in the year 2000? By placing an ad in a personal site or joining chat rooms? Once again my theory comes into play. Most men online are married and looking for an escape from their real life situation. Those in personal ads have never been married so you ask yourself "What's wrong with this picture?" And, the other problem is they are so fucking far away! Well, obviously you aren't going to get any 'real fucking' are you?
In my case I have had an online relationship with a man from England. Lo and behold, he was single! But he chickened out on me when I bought an airline ticket to go see him. Big Loss? I don't think so, obviously he wasn't "Mr. Right." And, then there was the guy from Australia. He was single when I started communicating with him but then a couple of months later he decided to get back together with his wife. Was it something I said? Another hopeless situation.
My friends keep telling me that I will meet someone. How? I don't have any good looking single male neighbors. I have a 73-year old widow on one side of me and a 30-something single parent mother on the other side. And, that brings me to another issue: I have noticed that not only is there a severe shortage of single men in their 30's, there's also a severe shortage of good-looking men! Have you ever noticed the men out there and hoped that they didn't pass on their genes?
What is a woman to do? Toys will only work for so long and then the desire for the actual physical contact with another human being overrides even those pleasures. Perhaps it's time to frequent the strip and look for male prostitutes. NO! I can't do that. Why you ask? Because as a nurse, I've worked with that population and I could never ever add to their burden. Perhaps I should start drinking and smoking? Put an ad in the local paper? I guess it doesn't help that when I decided to join a gym that I joined one that is exclusively for women.
Ah well, I suppose I can leave it all to fate. If it happens, it happens. If it doesn't, then I guess I'll just put my vibrator on high and die pleasantly.
Jessica is the pen name for a Canadian woman who discovered the world of erotica shortly after she went online in 1998. She has always used writing as a medium of self expression and erotica has now become one more form to add to her repertoire. Jessica writes for her own pleasure and hopes that along the way others might also enjoy her stories. Her work has been featured on the Erotica Readers Association website and on Lady Jessica's Adult Story Corner.
Tell It Like It Is
Light Me Up - Confessions of an Unrepentant Smoker
by Marg Cappelli
I'm a grownup. I have a husband, a son, a house, a dog and a station wagon. And I needed something. Something satisfying and a little daring. I'm spending 99.9% of my day doing for others and I needed a little something for myself. Something Un-Mom-like.
I just took up smoking. There, I said it. It's not something you hear often now. It's not very PC - but I'll say it again - I just took up smoking. And I like it. A lot.
Smoking appeals to me on many levels. I enjoy the taste, especially after a meal or with a coffee. It's warm, rich and slightly earthy, the perfect finish to a good meal. I like the draw, sucking the warmth into my chest, holding it there. I like the little burn, the punch of each new inhalation which grows stronger as the tobacco burns lower and lower. I like pursing my lips to blow the smoke out, feeling the tingle on my tongue and lips, and then releasing it very slowly and watching the smoke curl into the air. Even more pleasing is the little buzz I get after each cigarette, a lightness in the top of my head that lingers and raises my spirits.
Sound shocking? In today's health conscious, warning label society I guess it might be. I'm sort of shocked by it too. I'm a grown up. I should know better. I toyed with smoking in college. It was practically a requirement. I was a theater major and what else was a young actress to do to fit in but to buy some all black outfits and a pack of clove cigarettes to go with them? But it was the late '70s and soon Reagan was in the White House with his drug czar, Jane Fonda invented aerobics, bars were replaced by spas and we all got healthy. And it didn't really matter to me because I didn't inhale then anyway.
My husband turned me on to it. He has just started smoking too. Perhaps it was our mid-life crisis, our seven year itch. In the last few months we've had great conversations over coffee and cigarettes. We don't do mommy/daddy talk then. It's our time to indulge ourselves. Time we steal. We're playful when we smoke. We're sexy. We're grown-ups.
Smoking is very adult. It is sophisticated. Just watch some old movies from the '30s and '40s. Humphrey Bogart leaning in to light Lauren Bacall's cigarette, it's almost an act of seduction. Everything about smoking was classy then. Lighters were not made in plastic Day-Glo colors. They were metal, warm to the touch, had a substantial heft to them. People snuffed their cigarettes out in real ashtrays of heavy cut glass. Cigarettes were treated with importance and kept in slim, elegant cases.
Smoking was cool, worldly, and nothing to be ashamed of.
Now we smokers are segregated to the far reaches of restaurants or banished to the sidewalk. We are talked down to and frowned upon. Yes, smoking is a dangerous pastime but so is drinking, gambling or driving fast. Everyone has a right to their own naughty pleasures and I think I have found mine. Anyone know where I can buy a nice cigarette case?
Marg Cappelli is a mom/writer/actress living in Providence, Rhode Island. After focusing on acting for many years Marg is now mainly writing in between quizzing her son for spelling bees.
Chick Stuff
Does Size Really Matter?
by Rachel Lancaster
Okay - so there it is - laid out in all its glory... Uh, no, I'm talking about the question - not the mechanism at this point, so you can breath a collective sigh of relief... Well, at least momentarily. Alright, let's begin again. So, there it is... that one question guys are always wanting the answer to, but not quite sure they really want to ask - Does size really matter? Well, boys (and girls), the answer of course is quite obvious - and it is decidedly "Yes." But, hold on a sec, before you stop reading and get all depressed, I'm here to tell you again that - "Yes," size does matter, but not in the way you might think... Do I have your attention now? Well, good. Then read on...
First of all, the size question itself begs a whole host of preliminary questions. For instance - Is there an average male penis size? It would seem logical that a girl couldn't begin to assess if her man was "well equipped", "under-equipped," or "just right" without having some sort of baseline to draw from. And, no, I'm not talking baselines as in baseball here - as if you've been around the bases with a whole league of guys (but, well, if you have, then, hope the games have been fun). But, what I am talking about is a way to get a real starting point for the remainder of this discussion. Therefore, I shall momentarily fall back on good old statistical analysis, courtesy of "The Definitive Penis Size Survey Results, Sixth Edition" (an exceptionally handy site for the 21st century gal...).
The data from this web site shows us that the average length of the erect Caucasian penis is 6.5". The average erect Black male penis measures up at 6.1". (So, there goes one well-known stereotype blasted all to hell! Although Richard Edwards, the site's maintainer, does note that he would like to have a larger sample size of both Black and Hispanic men to further correlate his data). But, let's not get distracted. To finish off our basic baseline, we can also see from Mr. Edwards' wonderful analyses that Hispanic men average 5.9" and East Asian men round out the ethnic breakdown with an erect penis of 5.5".
Okay, so now we know what we're looking at. So, from here on out the rest of this little session of enlightenment should be pretty easy... right? As, by now I'm sure all the men reading this have already gotten out their rulers and are at this point either congratulating themselves for being "above-average" or are already surfing the Internet looking for penis pumps and other dubious means of penile enhancement. Because, after all, we all know that "bigger is better" - right? Uh, well, not so fast there buckaroo... There are many, many factors that determine the prowess of a lover, and I'm here to tell you being hung-like-a-horse ain't necessarily one of 'em... You see, it's a matter of mechanics and well, logistics too...
Ladies, let me ask you all a few questions... Are there times when what you want is to be "made love to" and other times when you just want a good fuck? Well, of course there are! Sometimes you want all the frills, the mood, the closeness and the cuddling; and then other times all you want to do is have your man twist you up like a pretzel, turn you practically inside-out and fuck you until there's no tomorrow. What's interesting here, is that the "overly-endowed" man is at a decided disadvantage when it comes to this latter sort of action because quite frankly it is often too uncomfortable for the woman to accommodate or maintain the more "gymnastic" positions... Ha! Bet that's somethin' your mama never told you!
So what does this all mean? Is bigger better? No, and yes. It all depends on what the woman wants - if she's into deep, close, soulful motion - then maybe being in the 95th percentile is a good thing. But, if what she really wants is you to lift up her skirt, bend her over and just get to it - then well - being John Holmes ain't gonna be a logistical blessing... Bottom line, we all like sex certain ways at certain times, and for the most part we don't like it the same way all the time either... Routine, eventually breeds boredom and well, that spells trouble for any relationship in any capacity... Thus, variety is the spice of life - so all you fellas with those average or near average or even below the bell-curve Johnson's - buck up - it ain't the size of the equipment, but what you do with it that counts...
Besides, my mama always told me, "Rach, if you can't say somethin' nice, don't say nothin' at all..." And, well, it seems I've already said plenty.
Rachel Lancaster writes, works, lives, and dreams in New York City. She is a frequent contributor toDare.
Guy Speak
Things That Make You Go Hummm...
by Lee Dresselhaus
So... Monica Lewinski is/was just gainfully employed, and I have an observation to make about that. Monica is/was, until recently, the spokesperson for the Jenny Craig people, and I understand they were paying her an obscene amount of money just to get up in front of some cameras and tell people how she lost weight with the Jenny Craig system. She also wrote a book, "Monica's Story" which didn't sell all that well but she got a big juicy advance, so that's not her problem. She still made money. Lots of it.
Personally, I think that she should have named the book "I Blew Bill". It would have flown off the shelves faster than you can say Madonna's "Sex" book, but that's beside the point.
It's amazing that we live in a time when giving a blowjob to anyone not only makes you famous, it makes you rich. From this point on, her endeavor to please the prez will have to be considered a success by any standards. It made him happy, it made her rich. He got his jollies, she got some serious bucks. No matter what happens from this point forward, she will be a very wealthy young lady. Just a generation ago she would have been living in shame somewhere in the Canadian Rockies, hoping nobody ever found her. Now she's looking at six figure paydays. Go figure.
It proves the old adage, "It's not who you know, it's who you blow," doesn't it?
I'm a little curious about the sponsor thing, too. She was sponsoring a fat farm because she lost a bunch of weight. I think she's missing some real possibilities when it comes to the money making thing. For instance, shouldn't Hoover or Electro-lux be jumping at the chance to have her as a spokesperson? She's certainly qualified, wouldn't you think? Or how about the convenience store chain that does the Big-Gulp drinks. Monica's face on a 32 ounce Big-Gulp cup would be a sure winner. It would have to be. There has never been anything more fitting. They'd sell millions.
As with all things, however, there is a second side to this issue and before we become too engrossed or critical in our examination of the talented Ms. Lewinski, let's look at that other aspect.
Granted, she didn't actually get paid for her performance with Bill, but she has certainly taken advantage of the fame - or notoriety, depending on your point of view - and will rake in millions for it before the day is done. Now, here's a philosophical question: Would you?
Disregarding the question of whether or not she knew she would end up with a bank account as fat as her ass, would you blow somebody if you knew you would stand to make, say, three million dollars from the deed? Would I? Being a heterosexual male, and sort of a masculine one at that, I considered the issue at great length before I came up with an answer.
Fucking-A-skippy-do I would.
For three million dollars I'd dress up in a tutu and dance like the fucking Sugar Plum Fairy, then give the best blow job ever to whichever idiot decided to write me out a three million dollar check for it. Payment in advance, of course. And I'd do it on a Mardi Gras float on Fat Tuesday if that was part of the deal. It has nothing to do with being gay, or even having gay tendencies. It's a practical thing. I'd consider it a job challenge. But, you ask, how would I feel about myself afterwards? How could you?
Well, it's like this. Three million dollars not only buys a lot of toothpaste and mouthwash, it buys a substantial amount of psychotherapy, with plenty left over when we're finished. And besides, if I started feeling a little down about the whole thing, which I doubt I would, all I would have to do is pull out my checkbook and check the balance. There. All better. A shrink would be a waste of time.
Feel bad? Check your balance. Nope. Upset because people might think badly of you for this? Check balance again. Nope. Having self esteem problems? Check balance and sigh. Nuh-uh. Can I go now?
Alright, alright, I know. There are names for people who do things like this for money. Right now people reading this are calling me things like a male whore, a money oriented opportunist, a person with no moral values, and stuff like that, and some of them are even calling me bad names. And that's okay, because everybody, even them - and you - has their price. It might be three million, or ten million, but everybody has a threshold where dignity ceases to be a factor, or at least becomes an afterthought, and decisions are based on the stark reality of the above mentioned checkbook. Frankly, though, for ten million I'd let Bill squat hump me on the White House lawn and yell, "YOU THE MAN!" over and over through the whole thing. I'd get over it. Quickly.
The only problem Monica should be having right now is the fact that now and ever more the name Lewinski will be synonymous with blowjob. C'mere, baby, how 'bout a Lewinski to finish up the night?
That's gotta sting.
Anyway, before we get too critical of Monica and the opportunities she's created from giving the world's most famous hummer, we should think again. We all have our price, whether it's set up front or later.
For Monica, and for most of the rest of us, it's only a moral question until the offer becomes realistic.
Then it's just a matter of opportunity.
Lee Dresselhaus is an award winning columnist who won the Louisiana Press Association award for Best Regular Column this year and last. Says Lee, "I enjoy what I do, which is being politically incorrect about damn near everything from men & women, racism, television, and doctors, lawyers and Indian chiefs, so its no chore to get you one." You can check out more of Lee's work by visiting The News Banner at TamNet.
