The Secret Sex Life of a Single Mom by Delaine Moore

they in turn feel a need
to be submissive. They want to hand over control, be humiliated, beg for sex, or whatever their fetish may be, because some part of them doesn’t want all that power.”
    As I listened to Duke talk, I paced the room, the phone pressed to my ear. My mind raced to process his ideas. Some seemed overly simplistic and superficial to me. But some were alluring, and I felt my body respond to them. My brain rushed to filter my own life through his looking glass: Am I an alpha female? I thought about all I manage and had managed for years as a full-time mother of three young kids; pfft, that was a CEO position if I’d ever seen one. I thought back to all the moms groups and meditation groups I had pioneered, how I’d worked full-time pre-kids, while also attending school and starting my own counseling practice. Even all the overseas travelling and moving I did in my twenties were indicative of a woman who was ferociously independent and bold. I’d just never felt comfortable with the label “Type A” or “alpha” personality. To me, being a leader meant being perceived as a bitch. I’d rather be well-liked, but seen as self-sufficient.
    My thoughts shifted to Robert: Is he an alpha male? Without knowing it, I think I judged him to be one when I’d dated him. I thought he’d stood out as the alpha leader of his pack of friends. From the outside he was strong, rugged, handsome; he exuded what I deemed to be the quintessence of masculinity. His personality ranged from being confident and gregarious—the life of the party—to being quiet and private, a man of few words. But did he “know” himself? Was he self-aware and secure in who he was? Not at all. I’d mistaken his masculine bravado for alphaness. And consequently, I had put myself at risk, trying to forge a meaningful relationship with someone who was both afraid and intimidated by my power; all his bullying and put-downs were meant to “keep me in my place.”
    “So are you dating someone, Delaine?” the Duke was asking.

    “Er—no,” I said pulling my thoughts back to the present. “I dated a hockey player a while back. But his penis was really small and well, the sex was lame.” I can’t believe I just said that to a man!
    Duke’s response caught me off guard: “Being with a lame lover disrespects you, and I don’t like anyone disrespecting you, even you. I’d like to take you over my lap and spank you right now for this. I’d spank you, then grab you by the hair and look in your eyes and tell you that from now on you let no one disrespect you . If it happens, you have to answer to me . I don’t want you spreading your legs for ‘lame,’ got it?”
    “I’m not making a habit of it!” I defended, wondering why I felt aroused by his verbal reprimands. “I’ve been out with a dozen men since him and I didn’t see any of them beyond a first date.” I paused. “Actually, I did consider one , but at the end of our date, he grabbed me, kissed me, and soaked my face.” I laughed.
    “TWO things here,” he stated. I gripped the phone, waiting. “FIRST, this is the kind of guy you should have slapped or painfully squeezed his nuts. I’d give you another spanking right now if I could. Nobody takes from you without your permission. Allowing this to happen was a ‘bad Delaine’ moment. Get this: You are nobody’s doormat anymore. You got that?
    “SECONDLY, regarding the other eleven men, you rejected them because they aren’t good enough for you. That’s good. No one should have a piece of you who doesn’t deserve it. It’s a sin. But the problem is, you’re becoming more and more sexually frustrated in the interim. You aren’t actually happy because your pussy isn’t getting what it wants. There’s a slut in you that is not being satisfied.”
    My mouth flew open in shock. How dare he call me a slut! “A slut,” he explained, as if hearing my thoughts, “is a woman who likes to orgasm. Look it up. The