Perhaps I’ve been doing this too long, but I recall when people spoke to each other using complete words and sentences, either verbally or written. Remember that? Now, it’s all done in a digital shorthand called acronyms. Once upon a time, we also composed notes and letters using cursive writing. Do they still teach that in school?

An acronym is a pronounceable word formed mostly (but not always) from the initial letters of a descriptive name or title. Its origin is from the Latin words “acro,” meaning “beginning,” and “onym,” meaning “word” or “name.” These are not to be confused with initials or abbreviations.

Acronyms, initials and abbreviations–oh my! From texts to in-person convos (see how I snuck one in there?) to the post-it you leave your roommate to turn off the lights, we all use shorthand. But is your truncated way of expressing a thought an acronym? It depends on how you say it. For example, “you only live once” is shortened to YOLO, which you’d say as “yoh-loh.” This is not to be confused with BOGO, the retail shorthand for “buy one, get one,” or COB, meaning “close of business.” Damn—this is confusing, and we haven’t scratched the surface!

Acronyms have been around for decades, particularly in the government and military. Think AWOL (absent without leave), C-rations (c for canned or condensed), GI (government issue), FUBAR (fouled up beyond all recognition), NASA (National Aeronautics and Space Administration), Navy SEALs (Navy Sea Air Land forces), POTUS, SCOTUS, and SWAT (Special Weapons and Tactics). They all entered the lexicon long before the digital age, along with ASAP, SRO and BOLO. It wasn’t until cell carriers began charging customers for their digital usage that acronyms became a necessity. The abomination formerly known as Twitter also shares some of the blame with their message character limits.

There’s been some debate about whether initialisms are acronyms, or if acronyms and initialisms are types of abbreviations. If any of that made sense to you, please raise your hand. An initialism is an abbreviation that uses the first letter of each word in the phrase it’s describing (like an acronym), but you still say each letter individually (unlike an acronym). For example, the Federal Bureau of Investigation is shortened to FBI, but you say it as “eff-bee-eye,” not “fuh-by.” Here are some common examples of acronyms you probably use or encounter.

AFK (away from keyboard); BBL or BBS (be back later or soon); BRB (be right back); DM (direct message) or PM (private message); BTW (by the way); IDK (I don’t know); DFK (don’t f***ing know); IMO/IMHO – (in my opinion/humble opinion); IRL/IRT (in real life/time); LMK (let me know); NOYB (none of your business); OMG (oh my God); SMH (shaking my head); HTS (here to stay); TTYL (talk to you later); WTH (what the hell). There’s also the ever-popular LOL (laughing out loud) and ROFL (rolling on the floor laughing), along with ROFLMAO (rolling on the floor laughing my ass off) and the shorthand version, LMAO.

Everyone has their favorite car, and many people have that car they’d never own again. For the latter, consider these acronyms.

BUICK – Big Ugly Import Car Killer; CHEVY – Cannot Have Expensive Vehicle Yet; DODGE – Drains Or Drops Grease Everywhere/Dead On Day Guarantee Expires; FORD – Fix Or Repair Daily/Found On Road Dead; HONDA – Hang On, Not Done Accelerating; JEEP – Just Expect Every Problem; PORSCHE – Proof Of Rich Spoiled Children Having Everything; TOYOTA – Too Often Yankees Overprice This Auto; VOLVO – Very Odd-Looking Vehicular Object.

(Emits big sigh). All these different forms of language, abbreviations, acronyms, slang and so forth, and we still can’t communicate with each other. It’s getting to where I’m almost afraid to say “I woke up this morning” for fear that it will be misconstrued, since “woke” seems to rile so many people. I heard a new word on a morning talk show recently—“mentation.” It refers to cognitive functioning and being mentally alert. You learn something new every day.

I’d like to propose a compromise. Let’s keep this one (which makes some degree of sense), and ban “conversate” from the lexicon. It drives me crazy when I hear that one, so let’s be clear: you have a conversation, or you converse. Those are your choices. Period. You cannot “conversate” because there is no such word.

Speaking of words that need to be retired (no pun intended), I nominate “elderly.” I know many people who have passed middle age, but they don’t huddle under a blanket in a rocking chair watching soap operas or doing crossword puzzles, they don’t nap three times a day, and they haven’t graduated to textured food. According to a survey by MedicareAdvantages.com, 57 percent of people older than 65 object to the word. The same poll found that 70 percent also dislike “geezer.” That word is probably sexist, since no one refers to women in that age bracket as a “geezerette.”

IDK if you use acronyms to communicate, but IMHO, it’s HTS. I SMH sometimes when I try to read what someone has texted me, but I’ll have to GWI if I want to stay competitive, I guess. OMG– I’m late for an appt. and will be AFK for a while, but I’ll TTYL. IRL, IDFK WTH I just said!

“The things you regret are the risks you don’t take.”

I wish I could claim credit for that bit of wisdom but the truth is, I heard it in the movie “Grumpy Old Men.” It was spoken by Ann-Margaret to Jack Lemmon about relationships, and not being afraid to offer your heart to someone. It seemed like good advice but I think it applies to other things in life, too.

As writers, we’re obligated to take chances and push boundaries. Some of us pushed our limits simply by finishing that first book and getting it published. That’s not as easy as some people seem to think. It requires a lot of commitment and hard work, and that’s just the creative part. Once you decide to make writing a career, you really have to push your personal limits with regards to promotion and marketing. Some of us also push the limits of our bank accounts.

Think back to when we were kids, and fearless when it came to trying new things. If you liked someone’s music, what did you do? You rounded up your friends and formed a garage band. Were you obsessed with the latest superhero movie or TV series, like “Batman” or “Star Wars”? Nothing stopped you from making your own costumes and props, then acting out an adventure in the backyard. When you got hooked on reading and decided you wanted to write a story just like your favorite author, did anything get in your way? Our imaginations were fertile and boundless.

What happened to us? We grew up and became aware of a thing called adult responsibilities. Suddenly, things like getting a good job, paying the rent, putting grub on the table and paying attention to family took priority over frivolous adolescent pursuits. Sometimes we need to go back to that childlike naivety and innocence.

It’s important to recall the special excitement you had when you realized your first book, short story or blog was about to be published. That giddy feeling of “Wow, someone likes what I wrote and wants to publish it. How cool is that???” Remember how you felt when you saw your book cover or byline in print for the first time? How about reading the first good review you received? Goosebumps, anyone?

Do you know why you felt that way? Because you ignored the negative internal voices and the people in your life who jealously said that you wouldn’t make it happen. In short, YOU TOOK A CHANCE on something that was important to you, and it paid off. If you’re fortunate, you may experience it more than once in your lifetime. The trick is to keep pushing boundaries to challenge yourself and stay fresh.

I like to try new things with my writing. I become bored easily and if I don’t flex my creative muscles, that malaise will find its way into my stories. I think this is why I switch between mystery/thrillers and romantic comedies. It puts my brain in offense mode, and challenges me to take chances. My dislike of cliches also keeps my mystery readers on their toes. I’m really happy when I come up with a unique “Gotcha!” or last-minute “Aha!” twist that catches people off-guard. One of my regular reader/followers pointed out something to me. In many of the mysteries, I write a sort-of climax three-quarters of the way through, then follow it up with a bigger finish. I wasn’t aware I was doing this, but he pointed it out in online reviews as “the Tim Smith double climax.” I haven’t taken out a patent on that yet.

One of my early books, “The Vendetta Factor” (Nick Seven series), had me going retro by using chapter titles. Since it was an old school pulp fiction-style crime thriller, it seemed like a good fit. The fact that no one had used chapter titles in fiction for thirty-odd years increased my desire to flaunt current trends. My first romantic comedy, “Anywhere the Heart Goes,” took the title thing one step further. I began each chapter with a quote about love and relationships, to set the mood and preview what was coming. Some of the quotes were funny, while others were poignant.

The Vic Fallon retro private eye mystery “Lido Key” pushed my limits with adult content. I made the female lead bisexual, enjoying a relationship with her cute Latina housekeeper, and both of them are attracted to the hero. In looking back at that book, it’s probably the steamiest story concept I ever came up with. Not only is the heroine a switch hitter, she’s a former lap dancer turned rich trophy widow who is being blackmailed because of her past indiscretions. During his investigation, my leading man encounters a crooked strip club owner and a famous tough guy writer with a taste for booze and women. As I said, a sleazy concept with a cast of characters to match. I think Mickey Spillane would’ve been proud.

Speaking of characters, that’s another way I push limits. I like creating personalities that are unique and off-the-wall, thus making them memorable. I pay attention to people and take note of their fashion statements, physical characteristics and speech patterns. I also pay attention to the way an actor played a character and file it away for future use. My realistic caricatures have gotten me into trouble on occasion, when someone I know is convinced that I based a character on them or a mutual friend. This is patently false, because my characters are composites. What people want to think beyond that is up to them.

I really like to see how many fireworks I can set off when I give interviews. I have a lot of fun when I can go for a laugh with my responses. It plays into something I learned a long time ago—any publicity can be good if it gets people talking about you. As proof, search the name Kardashian and see what pops up. It also verifies that I don’t take myself seriously. One blog interview I did nearly cost me an invitation to a family reunion, though, because a relative was embarrassed by my answers to a few of the questions. They dealt with my opinions of certain sexual fetishes, some of which were unconventional, and I felt obliged to give funny off-the-wall responses.

During a live podcast interview, the hostess suggested that the book I was plugging might be good for Oprah Winfrey’s book club. I viewed this as another opportunity to make waves. I stated, live on the air, that I had no desire to be in Oprah’s book club because I didn’t think she or her audience would appreciate my writing. A long silence followed while the hostess pondered the future of her program.

The biggest limit-pusher for me resulted in my becoming a published author in the first place. I had recently reached a crossroad in my life, and was feeling restless. I recalled an idea for a story I had always wanted to tell, and challenged myself to either write the damn thing or stop talking about it. The result was the first entry in my popular Nick Seven spy series, “Memories Die Last,” which continues to sell many years later and has cultivated a nice fan base.

The second-biggest was my decision to use my own name when I began writing contemporary erotic romance. That was 20-plus years ago, and there have been many occasions when I felt I should have ignored Ann-Margaret’s advice, and adopted a pseudonym. Sometimes I think it was one risk I definitely regretted taking.

Over the summer, I attended my (GASP!) 50th high school reunion. I’ve adjusted to the shock of how many years have passed since graduation, and it was fun trying to identify old classmates that I hadn’t seen in years. After we got past the great lie that starts with “Gee, you look good!” some of us talked about what used to be. The passage of time might make you remember things as being simpler then, and perhaps they were because we didn’t have grown-up responsibilities, but I realized that some things in the world haven’t really changed.

In 1973, we had a Republican President (Richard Nixon), who authorized a break-in of the Democratic national headquarters to ensure his re-election in ’72. Hmm, a President tampering with an election to win a second term…what a dreadful notion! Following a Congressional investigation, Nixon resigned the following year rather than face impeachment and possible jail time. At least he knew how to take a hint.

Many of us who grew up in the late 60s/early 70s took an interest in ecology and the effects of air and water pollution on the environment. I attended school in the Cleveland area, and it was during this era that the Cuyahoga River caught on fire after years of pollutants being dumped into it. Environmentalists also began using the term Greenhouse Effect in reference to the deteriorating ozone layer and global warming. Fifty years later, we’re still paying the price and fighting the same battles regarding the climate.

Speaking of paying the price, the average cost of gasoline was 38.5 cents a gallon, up from $.34 the previous year. By the Spring of ’74 it had increased to $.55, due to the Middle East oil embargo. Remember gas rationing, something that hadn’t been done since WWII? Shortages of crude oil and fluctuating gas prices still remain a fact of life. I recall some economist predicting in the late ‘70s that gas would stabilize once it reached $1.00 a gallon. Riiiiiight!

On the lighter side, we got our music fix from AM radio, vinyl records (albums and 45s), and cassettes. FM radio was still the refuge of easy listening, classical music, opera, and NPR talk shows. That year, a bouncy little folk tune called “Tie a Yellow Ribbon ‘Round the Ole Oak Tree,” by Tony Orlando and Dawn, captured the Billboard number 1 spot.

Further down the chart, Jim Croce warned us to beware of a cat named “Bad, Bad Leroy Brown,” while Roberta Flack moaned about her man “Killing Me Softly with His Song.” She might have been referring to Marvin Gaye when he sang “Let’s Get It On,” Kris Kristoferson asking “Why Me,” or Paul McCartney and Wings performing the slow dance favorite “My Love.” Diana Ross extended an invitation to “Touch Me in the Morning,” while Carly Simon chastised someone with “You’re So Vain.” Rumor has it that she wrote that song about her one-time lover Warren Beatty. Listen to the lyrics and judge for yourself. For contrast, Elton John coaxed us to get down with “Crocodile Rock,” Billy Preston asked “Will It Go ‘Round in Circles,” and Vicki Lawrence told us about “The Night the Lights Went Out in Georgia.” This was also the year that Bette Midler broke out with her update of an Andrews Sisters hit from the ‘40s, “Boogie-Woogie Bugle Boy.”

Broadcast TV via rooftop antennas was the primary form of home-based entertainment, since we were a few years away from cable and home video. We still delighted in hearing Archie Bunker yell “Stifle!” on the number 1 show, “All in the Family,” while Redd Foxx did a Black version of the character on “Sanford and Son.” All things being equal, Bea Arthur’s “Maude” put a feminist spin on topical events. The other top shows that year were “The Waltons,” “M*A*S*H,” “Kojak,” “Hawaii Five-O,” “Sonny and Cher,” “The Mary Tyler Moore Show,” and “Cannon.” Compare those to what we’ve been watching over the past few decades and see how our tastes have changed.

The too-hip-to-be-square comedy show “Rowan and Martin’s Laugh-in” finally ran out of jokes after six years. Does anyone remember presidential candidate Nixon’s appearance in ’68, when he posed the question “Sock it to me?” ‘73 was also the first year for the soap opera “The Young and the Restless,” still churning out angst and sexual hijinks after 50 years.

One thing that has remained constant is our appetite for movies, and we had some great ones to choose from. The American box office was dominated by “The Exorcist” (the #1 movie), and “The Sting,” a reteaming of Paul Newman and Robert Redford that also renewed interest in Scott Joplin’s ragtime music. “American Graffiti” (#3 on the list) struck a chord with many of us, thanks to its plot about high school grads enjoying their last night at home before leaving for college and the real world. Love the soundtrack album.

The rest of the top ten consisted of “Papillon” with Steve McQueen and Dustin Hoffman, Redford and Barbra Streisand in “The Way We Were,” Clint Eastwood reprising Dirty Harry in “Magnum Force,” the Depression-era comedy “Paper Moon” (starring Ryan O’Neal and his daughter Tatum), and Roger Moore’s debut as James Bond in “Live and Let Die.” The list also included two unlikely films, both rated X—the controversial “Last Tango in Paris,” which nearly tanked Marlon Brando’s reputation, and “The Devil in Miss Jones,” a holdover from the porno chic era.

Some of the other flicks that brought us to theaters and drive-ins were “Walking Tall,” “Serpico,” “The World’s Greatest Athlete,” “Enter the Dragon” (Bruce Lee’s big screen debut), “High Plains Drifter” (Eastwood on horseback this time), “Dillinger,” “Save the Tiger,” “The Seven-ups” (a sequel to “The French Connection”), “Shamus” (Burt Reynolds trying to revive the private eye genre), Woody Allen’s “Sleeper,” and one that achieved cult status, “Soylent Green.” Bet you can’t remember the last line of that movie, screamed by Charlton Heston.

The Oscar ceremony that year was noteworthy for the stunt pulled by Marlon Brando. He was the favorite to win the best actor prize for “The Godfather.” Brando decided to boycott the ceremony as a protest against Hollywood’s portrayal of Native Americans, and to draw attention to the standoff at Wounded Knee. Rather than communicate this by sending a letter, Brando asked a little-known actress named Sacheen Littlefeather to appear on his behalf, and explain his reasons for declining the award. Her speech was not well-received.

Did you know that year marked the debut of Spenser, Robert B. Parker’s fictional private eye? His first caper was the novel “The Godwulf Manuscript.” Mickey Spillane continued his comeback with a bestselling action thriller, “The Erection Set” (yes, that’s the real title). We also read “Breakfast of Champions” (Kurt Vonnegut), “Jonathan Livingston Seagull” (Richard Bach), “Once is Not Enough” (Jacqueline Susann), and a little thing called “The Princess Bride” by William Goldman.

Speaking of debuts, although it sure didn’t look mobile, the first cell phone was invented by Motorola. The introduction of the Xerox 1200 Computer Printing System is significant as being the first commercial Xerographic printer used to create computer output. Never mind that it took up roughly a third of a standard office. The ‘73 Chevrolet Monte Carlo was crowned Motor Trend’s Car of the Year, thanks in large part to its “Euro-style ride and handling.” With nearly a quarter-million cars sold that year, the model set a new sales record for Chevrolet.

The World Trade Center opened that year, FedEx began operations, and the United States Drug Enforcement Agency was founded. In what was termed “The Battle of the Sexes,” Billie Jean King defeated Bobby Riggs in a televised tennis match attended by 30,942, the largest live audience to watch a tennis match in U.S. history. It was also seen by several million TV viewers around the globe.

That was the year the BIC lighter was first sold. The company boasted that it could be lit up to 3,000 times before wearing out. I don’t know if anyone actually counted. Television commercials told potential consumers to “flick your BIC,” something that is still heard today. The sexually charged slogan was an attempt to compete with the leading lighter manufacturer at the time, Gillette.

And that’s the way it was. On to the next 50 years!

People tend to get attached to certain films, books, TV shows and music to the point of obsession. We find something we like and just can’t get enough of it. Facebook groups, fan conventions and online clubs sprout up over just about anything. For proof, look at things like “Game of Thrones,” “Star Trek,” the Marvel superhero films and the James Bond flicks, to name a few. Many of these fall into the category of cult classics.

A cult classic is defined as something that is obscure or unpopular with mainstream audiences, but develops a dedicated fanbase through repeated exposure and word of mouth. After failing at the cinema, some cult films have become regular fixtures on cable television or profitable sellers on home video. The term cult film was first used in the 1970s to describe the culture that surrounded underground films and midnight movies. With the increase in cable TV channels in the ‘80s, and the need for inexpensive programming to fill air time, many of these films got another shot. Some movies that fit into this category are “The Night of the Hunter,” “Toxic Avenger,” “I Spit on your Grave,” “Mad Max,” the 1940s noir crime films “Detour” and “D.O.A.” and the Bond film “On Her Majesty’s Secret Service.” It may surprise you to know that “It’s a Wonderful Life” was once considered a cult classic. It bombed at the box office and didn’t become popular until the copyright expired and TV stations could show it free every year at Christmas.

Sometimes, a film will develop such a following because, in the words of critic Michael Medved, “It’s so bad it’s good.” Many of them were made on a minus-zero budget which made cheap special effects necessary, with wooden acting to match. “Night of the Living Dead” and “Texas Chainsaw Massacre” are prime examples, but a better one is “Plan 9 from Outer Space” (1959). It was made by Ed Wood, probably the worst filmmaker ever. He was responsible for the forgettable gems “Bride of the Gorilla” and the cross-dressing melodrama “Glen or Glenda.” Wood began “Plan 9” with a home movie of his idol, Bela Lugosi, made shortly before his death. He listed him as the star to increase box office appeal, even though his screen time was less than two minutes. Wood then doubled the actor with a guy who was taller, thinner and younger than Lugosi. He also used hubcaps suspended from thread to mimic flying saucers. You have to see this one to believe it.

I found a DVD collection of films from the 1970s, called “Drive-in Cult Classics.” These were ultra-cheap flicks that were shown as the third feature at the drive-in, or at college midnight movie fests. The casts are comprised of C-list actors, the kind that popped up as supporting players on TV shows or in commercial crowd scenes. These were what we used to call sexploitation movies, the ones that took advantage of the recently-abolished censorship code, giving moviemakers free reign to put out just about anything.

The plots are confusing, most of the acting isn’t good enough for community theater, and some of the sex scenes produce more laughs than heat. One featured a bedroom encounter between a husband and wife, but the guy never took off his pants or shoes while wriggling atop his naked spouse. How realistic is that? Gratuitous nudity also abounds. In another film, an actress walked across the screen topless for no reason. That scene came at a place where the story bogged down, and the director probably couldn’t think of anything else to do.

And those titles! “Pick-up,” “The Sister-in-law,” “The Teacher,” “The Stepmother,” “Trip with the Teacher,” and “Malibu High Hookers,” to name a few. Check out these poster teaser lines:

“She destroyed her husband’s brother by the most immoral act imaginable!”

“She corrupted the youthful morality of an entire school.”

“She forced her husband’s son to commit the ultimate sin!”

“This high school senior worked her way through the faculty lounge.”

A prime example of a cult classic is “The Rocky Horror Picture Show” (1975). A local theater used to hold midnight screenings of this one every year as part of their summer classic film series. I’d seen people showing up in costume and reciting dialogue along with the actors, so it wasn’t surprising. What did surprise me was when I attended a Sunday afternoon showing of “The Wizard of Oz.” I didn’t expect to see so many kids dressed in calico dresses, ruby red slippers and pigtails, accompanied by their mothers decked out as the Wicked Witch of the West, complete with brooms. I felt like I had entered an alternate universe.

I guess a cult classic can be anything you’re passionate about. What’s yours?

I read a post on a reviewer’s website that made me rethink online courtesy. This woman went on a rant about authors who aren’t considerate enough to say “thank you” when she reviews their books, often at their request. She held the opinion that after she spent “hours reading and reviewing” a book, the least the author could do was “take a few minutes” to send a follow-up e-mail, especially if it was a good write-up.

Wow – I thought we were all on the same page! I used to write book reviews for a romance site and I didn’t expect flowers when I favorably critiqued someone’s book. That isn’t why I did it and I can count on one hand the times an author reached out to thank me or question my parentage. If they did drop a line, I appreciated it, but it wasn’t what I lived for. I know a lot of authors who don’t communicate with reviewers because they don’t want it to look like they’re sucking up or influencing the outcome. If I hold a contest and offer a book as a prize, I always ask the winner to let me know what they thought of it. I don’t ask them to post a review, but just share their opinion so I’ll know if I’m reaching my audience. This is something else I don’t count on because people say they will, but usually don’t. It’s all part of the game and no, I don’t take it personally.

I make it a point to follow up with bloggers who have interviewed me or featured my books, because it’s common courtesy, and often results in a return invitation. I was raised by a generation that believed in sending “thank you” notes, and it’s a habit. The one time I received a terrible review on a blog, I actually left a comment for the reviewer, thanking them for their honest opinion. I didn’t like what they said about me or my book, but I chose to take the high road and show them that I wasn’t bothered by their negative comments. In other words, “Screw you and your ill-informed opinion!”

A friend once asked me to review one of his books when I was contributing to that online review site. We had appeared at the same author events, and supported each other’s literary endeavors. The problem? I wasn’t into the genre he writes and I didn’t think I’d appreciate his story. I tried to explain this but before I knew it, a package arrived in the mail containing his book. Autographed, of course.

I read it, found it to be better than I expected and wrote a four-star review. Actually, that was generous because he had self-published and there were numerous problems, which I didn’t mention in the write-up. I sent him a separate email summarizing my observations in a constructive way. Apparently, he expected a rave review because he didn’t communicate with me for a year after I posted it. I looked up some of his reviews on Goodreads and discovered that many were less flattering than what I wrote. In fact, a couple of them were downright nasty. Beats me why he wasn’t happy with four stars.

One of my Lodge brothers liked my books and asked if I would critique a few draft chapters of his first endeavor. He was a retired Fire Department Chief and wrote a fictionalized story based on his career. It sounded like an interesting concept, but had we not been friends, I would’ve told him I was too busy. As it turns out, I should have. My comments were constructive and designed to help him produce a better manuscript, but he didn’t see it that way. When I suggested that he might want to “dumb down” some of the technical jargon and insider references because readers might not understand them, he took an attitude with me, claiming “Everyone knows what those are!”

Apparently not everyone, because I had no idea what the hell he was talking about. Ever since then, I’ve been “too busy”—unless someone hires me to edit their work.

The remarks I mentioned earlier gave me cause for pause. The person referenced “hours spent reading and reviewing” books, but I wonder if she has any idea how much time and effort an author invests in getting that book ready for her to read. We agonize over every word, comma, revision and rewrite. We worry that the cover might not convey what the story is about. We sweat out a release date then become sleep deprived from promotional activity once it’s released. We anxiously await feedback and when we get it…we’re chastised because we didn’t say “thank you”?

As I said, it’s all part of the game and there is no right or wrong approach. Some people express themselves beautifully through the mouths of their characters but fumble when it comes to speaking from the heart. I fall into that trap myself at times. I suppose that’s why we choose to write, to express our feelings and opinions, and that’s a great skill.

For what it’s worth, I don’t expect a “thank you” note for this post, either. Just buy one of my books. And a nice review wouldn’t hurt!

Image by Khusen Rustamov from Pixabay

I was primed to want him long before I met him. Was this a deliberate ploy on my husband’s part? Or just the consequence of my hyperactive sexual imagination?

“James is a really good friend,” K told me. He’d known James for years before I appeared on the scene, during his tumultuous period living in San Francisco. “He’s a physicist. Does research at UCSF hospital.” My ears perked up. I’ve always found intelligence to be an aphrodisiac. “Oh, and you should see his paintings and sculpture. He’s really talented.” Oh my! An artist too! Was I wet already?

We were on our way cross country and planned to stop in the City by the Bay before heading south to Los Angeles. Having spent the last few years in grad school on the East Coast, K hadn’t seen James in a while, but he assured me that we’d get a warm welcome.

“And did I tell you about his time in Japan?” K executed a neat maneuver to pass a battered, dusty pickup, then pointed the Subaru straight across the sere plains of eastern Colorado. The Rockies were blue-gray shadows hugging the horizon.

I squeezed my husband’s thigh. “No, I don’t think so. What was he doing in Japan?”

“Working in a sex show.” He gave me a quick glance, as if to gauge my reaction, before returning his gaze to the empty, monotonous highway.

A tingle swept through me. “You’re kidding, right?” At that point I hadn’t yet visited Japan, but everyone had heard bizarre stories about the Japanese sexual underground.

“No, not at all. For three months James and his partner performed live in some club in Tokyo. Fucking on stage six nights a week.”

I sat silent, staring into the distance and pondering this thrilling and disturbing concept. I considered myself a free spirit, a bit of a sexual outlaw, but public sex, for money? What sort of person would engage in such behavior?

“Why?” I asked finally, expecting some wild tale of extortion or human slavery.

“He was curious to see what it would be like,” K responded with a chuckle.

I was quiet for a long time after that, contemplating with excitement and trepidation the prospect of meeting this “friend”. I had no idea what he looked like, but I was already half in lust.

James turned out to be lean and loose-limbed, a good half a head taller than K, with unruly hair, a soft voice and an easy laugh. As K had promised, he offered us the spare room in his Mission District flat. We shared take-out Chinese, red wine from a gallon jug and lots of pot. We talked about art, science, philosophy, politics. Well, K and James talked, mostly, catching up after years apart, reestablishing the bonds of their friendship. I listened, uncharacteristically mute, watching James’ long, expressive fingers trace patterns in the air as he explained some nuance of electromagnetic theory, wondering how those fingers would feel feathering across my nipples.

K asked about James’ partner – ex-partner as it turned out – but the one subject we didn’t discuss was sex. Still, the entire evening buzzed with erotic tension. When James looked at me, I felt the heat simmering in his lanky body. What had K told him about me?

I honestly don’t recall how we ended up in bed together. All I remember is how easy it was, how light and relaxed – how friendly. I didn’t worry about jealousy; that seemed a non-issue as I mounted K and James slid his cock (long and thin like his fingers) into my rear hole. My first double penetration – only the second or third time I’d ever experienced anal sex, actually. I can hardly believe, looking back, how little resistance James found. At the time, I was too turned on to even think about the question. I was neither surprised nor shocked. It was obviously the natural thing to be doing. We all agreed about that.

Sandwiched between a man I loved and my new lover, I felt not only acute pleasure but a delicious sense of connection. I was cherished and desired, giving and receiving. The brazenness of our actions thrilled me. The three-way intimacy kindled a new kind of joy.

I remember the details of the next day more clearly now than I do that incandescent night. The three of us went to see a matinee of “Raiders of the Lost Ark”. We strolled down the San Francisco sidewalk, arm in arm in arm, with me in the middle once again. I wore a flouncy white cotton dress I’d bought in Tijuana, with nothing underneath. I felt like a dirty angel, high on residual arousal, perversely proud we’d been brave enough to push friendship to its next obvious level.

Even after K and I moved back East, we remained close with James. We attended his wedding. Later, after their son was born, we visited him and Priscilla in their redwood-encircled cabin in the Santa Cruz mountains. We never had sex together again, but our mutual erotic history gave the relationship a special poignancy. I knew James remembered, as I did.

Four decades later, we’ve mostly lost touch. James’ struggles with addiction and psychiatric problems have weakened the connection. I regret that deeply. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve come to appreciate more fully how remarkable that episode really was – despite the fact that it felt inevitable at the time.

Enumerating a list of my long-time friends, I’m a bit embarrassed to realize how many of them were once my lovers. One might point to this as evidence of my unbridled promiscuity during my twenties and thirties. I interpret this fact differently, though. I’ve always been sexually attracted to people I like and admire, both women and men. Although I’ve had close friendships that were completely platonic, without the smallest shred of desire on my part, that’s not the norm for me. The intellectual and emotional buzz from meeting someone special transmutes into sexual desire.

In most cases, I’ve refrained from acting on my lusts, especially in recent years. Instead, they spill over into my dreams. Even people I haven’t met in person – people I’ve come to know and love remotely, in the guise of Lisabet Sarai – have found their way into my night visions. That’s one reason why I am reluctant to get closer to some of you in the real world. Friends are always welcome. At this stage in my life, though, I probably don’t need more lovers.

It’s summertime, and the living is easy, according to the old song. Among the many warm weather activities many of us will indulge in, movies still make the list. There have been a lot of films that use this time of year as a backdrop, and many of them rely on standby tropes like summer camp or vacations. Romance usually plays a big part, too, along with funny situations. Here are a few good ones, in no special order. How many of these have you seen?

“The Parent Trap” (1961) – This Disney production has Hayley Mills playing a dual role as teenage twins who were separated at birth when their parents divorced. They meet for the first time at a summer camp for girls, and plot to get their parents back together by switching places when camp is over. Yeah, I know—too cute, right? Just accept the premise and roll with it. Along the way, enjoy watching Brian Keith and Maureen O’Hara as the clueless parents. This was remade in 1998 with Lindsay Lohan, in her film debut.

“Gidget” (1959) – “Hey, gang—surf’s up!” This is the original beach party and surfer flick, starring Sandra Dee, Cliff Robertson, and James Darren. It’s about a teenager’s introduction to the California surf scene and her romance with a young surfer who teaches her how to hang ten, among other things. In addition to inspiring a television series, the film is considered the beginning of the “beach party’’ genre, and is credited as being a big factor in the mainstreaming of surfing culture. It also popularized the nickname Big Kahuna, for Chief (Robertson’s character, a professional surfer and beach bum the kids look up to).

“A Summer Place” (1959) — This romantic drama is a prime example of a steamy soap opera, loaded with melodrama, angst, tears, and sex. Infidelity, pre-marital sex, bigotry, class snobbery, alcoholism, teen pregnancy out of wedlock—there are enough vices here for two movies. The plot, for those who care, concerns two teenage lovers from different social classes who get back together 20 years after a summer vacation at a resort. They must then deal with the passionate love affair that’s developing between their own teenage children from previous failed marriages. It stars Richard Egan and Dorothy McGuire as the middle-aged lovers, and Sandra Dee and Troy Donahue as their respective children. Percy Faith’s recording of “Theme from A Summer Place” spent nine weeks at number one on the Billboard singles chart. You might not have seen the movie, but you’ve probably heard the song.

“Summer School” (1987) — This Carl Reiner-directed comedy stars a pre-“NCIS” Mark Harmon as a high school gym teacher who is forced to teach a remedial English class during the summer break. He’s a former pro athlete who lucked into a Phys-Ed job, but doesn’t have a clue about how to teach or motivate a class of underachievers. The film co-stars Kirstie Alley and Courtney Thorne-Smith. If you’ve seen “The Breakfast Club” or “Welcome Back, Kotter,” the group of misfits Harmon is assigned to teach won’t provide too many surprises, but they seem like a fun bunch.

“Summer Rental” (1985) – Here we have another Carl Reiner comedy, this time starring John Candy, Richard Crenna and Rip Torn. Candy is an overworked air traffic controller who takes his family to the resort town of Citrus Cove, Florida, where he clashes with local big shot Crenna. There are a lot of good sight gags and enough quirky characters to make up for the one-joke plot. Candy is great to watch as the put-upon family man who finally gets pushed to the limit. And speaking of John Candy…

“The Great Outdoors” (1988)– This vacation comedy, written and produced by John Hughes, pairs John Candy with Dan Aykroyd. Supporting roles feature Stephanie Faracy, and Annette Bening in her film debut. Candy once again plays a harried family guy who looks forward to their annual summer getaway at a Wisconsin lake resort. A dark cloud appears in the form of Aykroyd as the brother-in-law from hell, who seems to exist only to make Candy’s life miserable. There are some very funny bits, and the comic timing between Candy and Aykroyd is just right.

“National Lampoon’s Vacation” (1983)—The first and still the best of the series (with the possible exception of “Christmas Vacation”), this features the Griswold clan on a cross-country summer road trip to enjoy some quality family time. At least, that’s what Chevy Chase has in mind until they’re actually on the road to Wally World amusement park. Along the way, they take a side trip to visit his mentally-vacant cousin Eddie (Randy Quaid). The whole thing is one mishap after another, with some hilarious gags. Chase’s meltdown and rant toward the end is classic. Like all of the “Vacation” films, you’ll see things that will make you think “Been there, done that.”

“Meatballs” (1979) – This Canadian comedy, about a ragtag group of teenagers at a second-rate summer camp, is noted for being Bill Murray’s first starring role, and for launching the directing career of Ivan Reitman. The two would team up again for “Stripes” (1981) and “Ghostbusters” (1984). Murray is a camp counselor, whose personality and manner will remind you of his lounge lizard character on Saturday Night Live. There really isn’t much to the plot, elements of which were reprised the following year in “Caddyshack” (“The slobs versus the snobs”), but it’s all very funny. The film was hugely successful, and followed by several sequels that had no connection to the original except the name.

“Jaws” (1975) — “You’re gonna need a bigger boat.” Summer had traditionally been the dumping ground for low-budget drive-in flicks until this one broke box office records and became the must-see movie of the year. A quaint New England island is terrorized over the busy July 4th holiday by a huge shark with an equally large appetite. Director Steven Spielberg supplied plenty of suspense, thrills and adventure, and the cast plays it beautifully. Legend has it that the line about needing a bigger boat was ad-libbed by star Roy Scheider, and it became a popular catchphrase.

“American Graffiti” (1973) – The marketing campaign for this coming-of-age movie posed the question “Where were you in ’62?” That’s considered to be the end of the ‘50s American rock-and-roll era, before the British Invasion. The story takes place on the last night in town for a couple of recent high school grads who are leaving for college the next day. Or will they? Cruising, drag races, sock hops, make-out sessions by the lake, carhops on roller skates, and oldies from car radios announced by Wolfman Jack make this a nostalgic and bittersweet look at more innocent times. Director/writer George Lucas (“Star Wars”) based the story on his own post-HS summer experiences. The cast includes Ron Howard, Richard Dreyfuss, Cindy Williams, Candy Clark and a little-known actor named Harrison Ford. Look for the film debut of Suzanne Somers as the blonde in the T-Bird who catches Dreyfuss’s attention.