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    I knew why I was still a virgin. Blame it on a history of low self-esteem, being annoyingly hyper-logical, a strong desire to keep my wits about me, and being overly aware of my surroundings.

    My reasoning behind posting an ad on Craigslist is a little fuzzy. Frankly, I wanted to see what the big deal was about sex. I was partly inspired by my close friend, Carly, who recently entered into an open relationship and spends lots of time regaling me with tales of her random, meaningless hook-ups.

    The truth is I never really intended to go through with meeting someone from Craigslist. But there I was, sitting in front of my computer typing a clear and concise casual encounters ad.

    Cannot host. I did not include the fact that I was a virgin. I set up a gmail account under a fake name and waited for emails to roll in.

    And roll in they did. Almost immediately I had a world of men looking to hook up with me. The sheer amount of dick pics I got was staggering and I fluctuated between academic fascination, passive arousal, and outright disgust looking through all of them.

    Several dozen emails later I read one from a relatively unattractive, but seemingly nice man named Stu, who was He had actually messaged me on OK Cupid the week before, but I read his profile and never responded that right there should have tipped me off, I almost always respond to OK Cupid messages.

    We started emailing back and forth over 30 emails passed between the two of us and finally we set up a time 10 pm and a place his townhouse to meet.

    I kept pushing away the voice that kept telling me to stop and got ready for our meeting. It felt like an out-of-body experience. Thinking back on that night I see it from the outside, looking in.

    Watching myself do this, remembering that it happened and yet not feeling like I actually experienced it. I parked my car and Stu was waiting at the front door.

    We shook hands and went into his backyard. It was nice, there was a fire pit burning and a half-empty bottle of Moscato waiting. I sat down and promptly drank all of the wine in an attempt to calm my nerves and also to catch up with Stu, who was very obviously drunk and high.

    We started chatting, about him mostly. I did not like him. He was very much into talking about how Alpha he was and dropping a comment every single time he could about his self-proclaimed gigantic penis.

    This turned out to be true. He packed a bowl for me and I lit up in a greater attempt to lose myself. I suggested we change the subject because at this point I, a queer, liberal, socially aware woman, was pretty close to leaving.

    OneTaste was populated by cool, open-minded San Franciscans who wanted to expand their horizons. They included an astrologer named Jude, 12 years my junior.

    The moment I saw him, I was irresistibly drawn in. Slightly built and neo-hippy, he was spiritual, calm and centered. I was an Italian, meat-eating, busy magazine editor.

    But we had a real connection. I became infatuated with him, but the sex soon fizzled. Without missing a beat, he reached over and lightly took my fingertips in his.

    I loved our conversation, the fact he was a writer, the books he read. Things in the bedroom were mind-blowing and, before I knew it, I was hooked.

    I stuck to that. I liked it. It was the perfect balance, living on my own during the week and then returning home. We knew we were both sleeping with other people, but we kept to the rules and never spoke about it.

    We had sex as always and the open marriage spiced things up — at least at first. But, by the end of the month project, moving back home full time proved more difficult than I had thought.

    Suddenly I found an updated version of myself. She was less shy, more confident, wilder. Meanwhile, it turned out that, for around six months, Scott had been exclusively sleeping with one woman, a lot younger than me.

    The turning point was hearing from Alden. He sent me an email, out of the blue, several months after the project had come to an end. Before long, we were having sex again.

    Being with him was exquisite. After reconnecting with Alden and falling deeply in love with him, there was no going back.

    Five years on, Alden and I are happily living together. First I channeled the creativity I would have used to become a mom into my sexuality, and then I channeled it into writing my memoir.

    As my story shows, there are many different ways in life to find passion and fulfillment. Read Next. Did Atlantis really exist on the Moroccan coast?

    This story has been shared , times. This story has been shared 99, times. Learn More. Would you like to receive desktop browser notifications about breaking news and other major stories?

    Not Now Yes Please. View author archive email the author follow on twitter Get author RSS feed. Name required. Email required. Comment required.

    Enlarge Image. Bored after 18 years with her husband, Robin Rinaldi placed an ad seeking casual encounters with new men and women.

    She tells what happened on her yearlong sex odyssey in her memoir "The Wild Oats Project.

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    Almost immediately I had a world of men looking to hook up with me. The sheer amount of dick pics I got was staggering and I fluctuated between academic fascination, passive arousal, and outright disgust looking through all of them.

    Several dozen emails later I read one from a relatively unattractive, but seemingly nice man named Stu, who was He had actually messaged me on OK Cupid the week before, but I read his profile and never responded that right there should have tipped me off, I almost always respond to OK Cupid messages.

    We started emailing back and forth over 30 emails passed between the two of us and finally we set up a time 10 pm and a place his townhouse to meet.

    I kept pushing away the voice that kept telling me to stop and got ready for our meeting. It felt like an out-of-body experience.

    Thinking back on that night I see it from the outside, looking in. Watching myself do this, remembering that it happened and yet not feeling like I actually experienced it.

    I parked my car and Stu was waiting at the front door. We shook hands and went into his backyard. It was nice, there was a fire pit burning and a half-empty bottle of Moscato waiting.

    I sat down and promptly drank all of the wine in an attempt to calm my nerves and also to catch up with Stu, who was very obviously drunk and high.

    We started chatting, about him mostly. I did not like him. He was very much into talking about how Alpha he was and dropping a comment every single time he could about his self-proclaimed gigantic penis.

    This turned out to be true. He packed a bowl for me and I lit up in a greater attempt to lose myself.

    I suggested we change the subject because at this point I, a queer, liberal, socially aware woman, was pretty close to leaving. But I again squashed down that part of me.

    About 20 minutes later I needed to pee pretty badly and the guest bathroom was right next to the front door. I went in and looked at myself in the mirror.

    Go out the front door and go home. But there I was and for some reason I still cannot fathom I was still wanting to hook up with him, who at that point was nothing more to me than a penis-wielding person.

    I just wanted to get it over with. When I came back out of the bathroom, he was sitting on the couch in the living room, waiting for me.

    So I sat down next to him and he slowly worked his way into cuddling with me. I was apathetic and pretty stoned and just stared at the moon.

    Eventually things just went from there. We moved from the couch to his bed upstairs and there it happened. Meanwhile, it turned out that, for around six months, Scott had been exclusively sleeping with one woman, a lot younger than me.

    The turning point was hearing from Alden. He sent me an email, out of the blue, several months after the project had come to an end. Before long, we were having sex again.

    Being with him was exquisite. After reconnecting with Alden and falling deeply in love with him, there was no going back.

    Five years on, Alden and I are happily living together. First I channeled the creativity I would have used to become a mom into my sexuality, and then I channeled it into writing my memoir.

    As my story shows, there are many different ways in life to find passion and fulfillment. Read Next. Did Atlantis really exist on the Moroccan coast?

    This story has been shared , times. This story has been shared 99, times. Learn More. Would you like to receive desktop browser notifications about breaking news and other major stories?

    Not Now Yes Please. View author archive email the author follow on twitter Get author RSS feed. Name required.

    Email required. Comment required. Enlarge Image. Bored after 18 years with her husband, Robin Rinaldi placed an ad seeking casual encounters with new men and women.

    She tells what happened on her yearlong sex odyssey in her memoir "The Wild Oats Project. Rinaldi pictured on her wedding day was with her husband for 18 years before deciding she wanted more.

    Rinaldi was 44 years old when she experimented with an open marriage. She placed the ad above on nerve.

    We had intercourse twice and, after he left, I felt satiated. Robin Rinaldi was 44 years old when she experimented with an open marriage.

    After talking with her husband, she placed an ad online looking for new lovers. And then there was Alden, a writer, in his late 30s, who answered my nerve.

    And so the year went on. I slept with a total of 12 people including two women during the Wild Oats Project. Read Next Did Atlantis really exist on the Moroccan coast?

    Share Selection. Now On Now on Page Six. Chicago cops fatally shoot man who attacked sergeant with butcher knife. How to become an early investor in AI robot revolutionizing the fast food industry.

    Mask and you shall receive: Where to pick up the best face coverings. TikTok marketing is a must in More Stories.

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    Meeting A Stranger From Craigslist

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