A glass of Merlot takes it hold…

If I’m being as honest as humanly possible, I would have to admit that I miss the erotic touch from a man that I physically and emotionally crave, or the comfort of coming home to someone who’s as wrapped up in my well-being as I am. Those are things that even the independent woman in me wants, but I’ve been single for so long now that I can’t remember if those things are worth the compromise and sacrifice that a relationship takes.

Here’s my romantic history in brief. From high school up through the months after graduating college, I was a serial serious relationship gal, with the most supreme of relationships resulting in an engagement that never came to fruition. After a few bitter and judgmental years I found Dave. I loved Dave but Dave did not love me back – he barely appreciated me and we stopped having regular sex – so I cheated because I desperately wanted to be desired. The cheating broke me so I ended it, though that turned out to be a strange and sad experience, because in the process I learned that I didn’t want to lose him, but that he was fine with losing me. The whole ordeal again soured me on relationships.

Two years post Dave, I feel like I’ve reached a state of personal relationship zen. Neither am I in search of or opposed to a relationship, I just am. I’m doing my own thing, and I desperately want that to be a professional win for me.

I don’t know why, but every time I’ve been serious about a man I’ve let that relationship dictate way too much about my life. Maybe it’s that realization or some other fucked up flaw, but each man that I’ve become emotionally connected to since Dave has been unavailable in more ways than one.

To say that I wasn’t slightly comforted by these men and their respective off-limits vibe would be a lie. I was extremely conscious of the fact that I could never fully have the type of life-draining relationship with these men that I’ve had in the past. It just wasn’t physically possible. Did I use them for affection or attention? I think it was a mutually beneficial pity party that always ended badly for both parties. One person always begins to care more, and that’s when trouble starts to brew.

So here again I find myself on a Saturday night with no love interest and really no perspectives on the horizon. The peace I have is derived from knowing that I’m not waiting for any calls or trying to decipher the subtext that is man’s way of expressing his interest, I am just me being me.

Two glasses of the previously mentioned Merlot, Jon Foreman’s, The Cure for Pain, is playing, and the air is thick with reflection and solidarity…”So blood is fire pulsing through our veins. We’re either writers or fools behind the reigns. I’ve spent ten years trying to sing it all way, but the water keeps on falling from my tries.”

I just want something that works, but society wants me to settle down, get married, and have babies. Heck at this point I think my parents would gladly settle for a bastard grandchild in lieu of the nothingness that they’ve come to expect. Extended family seem to think it appropriate to always ask about a significant other. There never is one to report.

“It’s not as if New York City burned down to the ground when you drove away…are we breaking up? Did my heart break enough this time?” – Rilo Kiley, Breakin’ Up

It feels good to be free. Unavailable men, ex-fiances, abusers and controllers, they’ve all been eradicated from my life, and this independent woman wants to rejoice in that fact. But why am I still craving the carnivorous lust of a man who can’t stand to be in the same room with me without ripping off my clothes. Sexual frustration? Maybe. Human disposition playing a cruel joke on yours truly? More likely. Quixotic social preconditions influencing my thinking? That sounds right.

Let’s just say I’m one narcissistic creative junkie (remember the wine and music quotes?) who needs an outlet. I’ve chosen writing to be that outlet. Someday I’ll choose love.

Bottle of Merlot finit.

*Photo courtesy of Greg_e on Flickr

Being open makes me a target, a target for all my jilted former lovers, a target for people who pretend to be my friend in public spaces but openly mock me or attack me and do so in a way that isn’t too difficult to decipher. We all get older, even the bullies on the playground, but the playground just morphs into different realms, it never disappears.

So while I contemplate how best to satisfy my saucier side, I’ll recount a relatively innocent story. Everything you read is true, not a sensationalized version, but a colorful description of the absolute worst kisser to ever have the opportunity to plant his lips against mine.

I met T at a bar in Mission Hills. I was standing outside inhaling the cancerous fumes from my Camel Silvers (yes I did smoke at one point in my life) when an olive-skinned, muscular man with a face that distinctly reminded me of my baseball crush, pitcher Jake Peavy, walked past me and blatantly gave me the once over with his eyes. I suppose he liked what he saw, and on a purely superficial level, so did I. T was wearing a Padre hat, wife-beater, and jeans. His aura screamed man, and my vodka soda-less self went inside to consume a beverage in the hopes of getting warm enough not to care that his body language and outbursts inside the bar were definite signs that he was already swimming in a sea of beer.

Over the course of the next few hours, I drank to dumb myself down to T’s level and we eventually got to the point where we could talk. It turns out that T was my age, putting himself through school, and rooming with the other T who was trying to bed my best friend. I wasn’t quite drunk enough to ignore that T reeked of liquor and beer, couldn’t utter a sentence without slurring it, and had trouble standing upright. When he asked for my number, I had enough self-respect to shut him down. I used the ever popular line, “maybe we’ll run into each other again.”

A week later we did run into each other again – at the same bar – under the same circumstances. We started to make it a point to run into each other. After ending a relationship with a man who took very little care of his body, I convinced myself the slightly stupid man with an impossibly toned body deserved a chance. Of course he totally blew it. T and the other T were supposed to meet up with Angie and I for drinks and then do a double date dinner. T and the other T showed up late, pounded shots of tequila, and never found the energy to leave the bar – but I did, and I made a scene in doing so. I embarrassed T in front of his friends by rejecting his advances and leaving without saying goodbye. Even hammered I couldn’t believe how disgusting his behavior had been.

Several weeks later, after several avoided calls, T managed to convince me to meet him for a drink. This time around T seemed surprisingly sober, his body looked better than ever, and he even appeared to keep up with my witty repartee. We started doing the touchy flirty thing. He touched my leg, I grazed his; I stared a little too long into eyes, he stared a little too long at my breasts. At 2am bar time, T asked me if I wanted to see his pad. I was in the mood to make-out, so after I said my requisite line “I’m not going to have sex with you” to ease my own anxieties, we left the bar to head to his place a few blocks away.

The 2 minute car ride over was riddled with awkwardness – I think I was sobering up and slowly regretting my lapse in judgment. At T’s house he gave me the tour. It was a two story house, shared by four men, who obviously were undisturbed by the utter chaos of the house. T grabbed a beer for the both of us, and we went outside so that he could smoke. Clarity pierced my muddled brain. I couldn’t ignore the obvious. The backyard was littered with empty beer cans shedding light on T’s personal devils – alcohol and cigarettes. I was getting prepared to offer some bullshit reason for leaving when T grabbed me and pulled me closer to him. As T preemptively stuck his tongue out, I shut my eyes and hoped for the best. My mouth was suddenly accosted by a warm, wet, sloppy mouth, and a tongue that wanted to explore the entire depth of my mouth. I instantly tried to coach his horrendous kissing technique by rejecting his tongue at every turn with a closed mouth. I’m not sure why I didn’t just walk away; any and all sexiness had evaporated from the equation, but I stayed long enough to learn that there was no way to teach T to kiss better. Along with the proffered verbal guidance that backfired, I tried to demonstrate, with tips, how I enjoyed kissing, but T is not a quick learner, so he continued to try and assault my lips and mouth with an overzealous tongue that couldn’t seem to decipher the difference between my lips and the rest of my face.

There are more horrific details to the story, like the unkept bathroom with at least 5 spiders who looked anxious to bite me as I peed, or the bedroom that smelled of stale beer, but let’s just say the evening was unforgetable in the worst kind of way. I waited until T passed out, which thankfully didn’t take very long, grabbed my purse and snuck out as fast as I could. I never saw T again, although I heard through the grapevine that he was disappointed and surprised that I wouldn’t return his calls. I just didn’t have the heart to tell T that kissing him was nauseating, and obviously none of his previous dates had done so either.

My single status has been teetering between available, semi-available, and soon to be unavailable since my last serious relationship ended in March of 2007. I’ve yet to find anyone worthy of the sacrifices a real commitment takes. In the not so distant past, I did, however, get pretty darn close to wanting to take myself off the market for someone who could have been pretty darn special to me. That didn’t work out quite as I had envisioned. Although the intermittent tears, tears more for a bruised ego than a broken heart, have long since dried, I got close enough to conjure recollections of one of the very nasty side effects of co-habitation – weight gain.

I’m by no means a lazy person, and right now I’m operating with small windows of free time that I can either choose to spend socially, blogging, in bed (sleep or otherwise), or at the gym. I try to find a balance where I don’t feel socially depraved, fat, tired, or starving for a blog post. Take that juggling act and throw in another ball, in the shape of a man, and you’ve got a circus act that leaves magic to the imagination. I know I’m not alone out there, and I also know that sometimes finding time for a workout is impossible, even when there’s a little bit more time to go around.

We’re Letting Ourselves Go, but Why?

Something just isn’t right here. There are those miraculously fit women who never gain a pound, but the majority of us pack on the winter weight, even if it is summer, as we approach domesticity and seal ourselves inside the monogamy envelope. What’s going on here? Is it a time thing? Is it a question of priorities? Are we just too comfortable being coupled up? Are we unhappy…unsatisfied…starved for sex and attention? I think there could be truth in any of these reasons, but the underlying reason behind all of these excuses is that…

taking care of our bodies is work, and once we’ve landed the boyfriend contract, the incentive to put in the work becomes as desirable as returning to blind dates and bad first dates.

Settling in to the Fat

I’ve never been in a relationship where I was able to maintain my ideal weight, but I’ve also never been in a really phenomenal relationship. Is that the key? Are we settling for relationships that don’t inspire us to take care of ourselves? I think so, and I’m 100% confident it’s not a problem unique to women.

Men settle. Women settle.

When we’re single, our idealism is tempered with realism and we set standards and say to ourselves, “the next person I date will be x, y, z, and then some.” Circumstances, however, change everything. We meet someone who doesn’t live up to our criteria initially, we get to know them, and we like them; letting the little things go seems natural, obligatory, and right. So we sacrifice a little, and settle for something less than perfect. It may seem harmless in the moment, but settling (although the difference between compromise and sacrifice is a big gray mass) equates to future tangible unhappiness that will be expressed through our behaviors, either via food, lack of exercise, or worst of all an emotional and/or physical affair.

Removing the Junk in the Trunk

This is where I can only guess at the solution. I can add up the total of my experiences, including the one where I almost walked down the aisle, and I can reflect, and I can decide that an exceptional relationship is not an option – it’s deal or no deal time. Of course even the exceptional relationship will never prevent the added junk from piling up in the trunk at times, but the exceptional partner in the exceptional relationship will be the right motivation for preventing the junk from transforming into garabage. In a perfect world the expectional relationship will also include frequent exceptional sex to help combat any missed trips to the gym. Here’s to being single and idealistic!

Lately the same conversation keeps happening…

Man: You’re probably going to blog about this.

Me: I might <wink>.

Man: Just make sure to keep me anonymous.

Me: Of course.

A few weeks later…

Man: I can’t believe you actually blogged about me.

Me: You knew that I had this blog, and I warned you that you might make an appearance. Didn’t I keep your identity private?

Man: Well I really thought that our moments were private.

Me: Our moments are private. For the most part, I strip you out of the content completely and only take the circumstances that I can apply to bigger trends or broader subjects.

Why I Do What I Do

My intentions are never to use the relationships or situations that I find myself in for good content, traffic, or comments. I’m really not that shallow, nor do I think my life to be that interesting. At the very core of my being is a writer, who enjoys the beauty of the written word and the blogging platform as a means to reach a larger audience. I blog for several reasons, but for the most part what you read here is the product of the following:

1. I’m an overly analytical person. I never have just a passing thought, and when it comes to relationships and men, I tend to obsess over every single detail. The easiest way for me to make sense of a situation is to write about it. Blogging helps me release the overwhelming thoughts that eat away at my sanity.
2. When I experience something that I think has implications beyond my immediate situation, I love to extract my moment in time and compare it against the millions of other moments that resemble my own. It’s not that I think I have any more experience or wisdom then the next person, it’s just that if I can find a pattern, I can come to some type or resolution.

I completely understand that most men would rather not turn on their laptop to find a blog entry about their sexual encounters with me. In fact, I usually avoid getting overly personal, and I never reveal anyone’s identity unless they’ve already expressed that they’re comfortable being a subject. What frustrates me to no end, though, is that there are men who seek me out because they appreciate the quality of my writing or the candidness of my blog, and yet these same men want to be excluded from something they know is a huge part of my life.

Is it unreasonable for me to blog about the men in my life? I certainly don’t think so. If anything, if you’re featured in an entry on Content Dynasty, you should take a little satisfaction in knowing that you’ve made a big enough impression on my life and mind that I felt compelled to write about it.

Here’s a minor revelation – I’ve been secretly sharing a bed with a privileged party for a few weeks now, and I’d rather not say who this person is, but let me just iterate that I hope he’s as disconnected to my world as I think he might be (but you never know with Google these days). Back to me. The whole scenario developed unexpectedly. I’m happily single and very flirty with everyone, so when a particular man started paying extra attention to me, I really gave it zero consideration. In fact, I never even noticed him in *that* way. There’s so much more to the story, but suffice it to say we unexpectedly ended up in bed together. No I’m not proud of it, and it certainly wasn’t a defining moment in my life, but it was good and oddly very comfortable.

If you’ve read any of my previous posts, then you probably already know that I’m not the type of girl that has sex just to have sex. I just wasn’t wired that way – the few times I’ve tried to disassociate feelings and do the simply sex thing, the end result was just plain messy. It’s pretty rare these days that I stumble into bed with a relative stranger before setting the sexpectations.

Setting the sexpectations, prior to the act, is the best way for me to let the guy know what he can expect after we start engaging in afternoon delights. I’ll usually lay out the following sexpectations before stripping down:

• Sex with me is complicated.
• I do get emotionally attached.
• I don’t share.
• If you’re going to sleep with someone else, tell me first or stop sleeping with me!
• You can’t be hyper-sensitive to feedback. I communicate what I want and so should you (this includes ways to improve).
• I’ve lived through too many experiences that I’d rather not share, but suffice it to say getting too rough won’t be appreciated.

Okay so now that everyone in the world knows way too much about me, let’s continue…

Here’s the problem. I made the same freakin’ mistake in my personal life that I made in my professional life. I didn’t set the sexpectations prior to the act, and now I’m paying the consequences. Trying to set sexpectations too late is almost as bad as trying to forget the whole thing ever happened.

Example.

The other night I confided in my coital confidant that I’m not interested in being friends who fuck. I was accurately picking up on a vibe that he assumed sex was an added bonus of our friendship (a friendship I’m not even sure really exists yet). Of course I was right. He’s not interested in really getting to know each other, and I was starting to think I could be open to that (but maybe that’s a side effect of good bedding, it makes you want to turn nothing into something to justify your behavior).

There was nothing left to do but to terminate the situation. If life has taught me anything, it has schooled me on the importance of self-preservation. So now I’m out, completely solo once again, and feeling like I violated my own bedroom code-of-conduct. [Said with the inflection of Chandler Bing] Could I be feeling any lower?

I don’t know. What do you guys/gals think? Is there a way to backtrack, after copulation has already occurred, and set sexpectations? Did I back myself into a rookie corner and get what I deserved? Give me some perspective on this.

The walk of shame promises public scrutiny, because despite all best efforts, it’s almost impossible not to stand out when you combine messy hair, heels, and dressy attire in the morning — especially on the weekend. Of course I do everything in my power to avoid the ensuing post-coital awkwardness including hosting male guests at my pad (men probably find comfort in the walk of shame), leaving before light casts its rays of judgment, or bringing an overnight bag with a change of clothes, a brush, and flats. Regardless of the options, the inevitableness of the walk of shame becomes entirely unavoidable when you start to find yourself sharing a bed with someone you like on a regular basis. The only possible real solution to the problem is mentioned above — bring an overnight bag — but there’s also some weighty consequences to consider. Every woman risks immediate rejection if she tries to introduce the overnight bag too early in a relationship. There are three types of men in this world in regards to the overnight bag, and their reactions to the introduction of this foreign product will be either:

1. Adamantly and vehemently opposed. Think Carrie’s Mr. Big. This closed-off man is very protective of his space. He’ll assume that you’re being presumptuous and thinking that the relationship is headed in a serious direction. He’ll make his distaste for said bag extremely obvious by either asking you to leave before dawn or finding a way to make you uncomfortable for assuming that you could plan ahead.
2. Ambivalent over time. Some guys just need a little time to get acclimated to having you invade their space. They won’t be put off by the overnight bag, but they might get a little scared off if the bag makes its appearance after the second date.
3. Completely unfazed. These are the guys who understand the humiliating nature of the walk of shame and would much rather have you stay over for wild and crazy sex than worry about the implications of the overnight bag.

The question then becomes, how does a girl know what type of man she’s bedding? I’ve got a few ideas on how to tell, but I’ve also been wrong before. Any and all insight is appreciated. What’s a girl to do?

You’re getting frisky with your man, clothes are coming off, body parts are getting warm, the mood is just right, and then for some reason or another your man’s “enthusiasm” for sexual intercourse starts to wane; he goes soft.

How do you react?

As a woman, I know that it’s difficult not to take these moments of deflated sexual tension personally. It’s easy for us to equate the level of erectness to the guy’s level of interest. We assume that maybe we don’t look good naked, we’re probably doing something wrong, or (worst case scenario) you have erectile dysfunction (can you blame us? The Viagra/Levitra commercials are everywhere).

As a guy’s gal, however, I’m constantly having conversations with men about their sex lives and relationships. Surprisingly, most men have been on the flip side of this unflattering situation. I’ve heard men get candid about this very subject, and the overwhelming trend I’m starting to recognize is that there are a myriad of variables that contribute to or detract from a hard penis. Time of day, energy level, stress level, body-image, pressure, and perception of the situation are just a few of the contributing factors, none of which have anything to do with how you look naked. Of course, these same guys admit that the occasional softy is not big a deal, but they also note that there probably is a problem if the man is frequently having these issues.

The worst thing you can do is…

…make it about you or the penis.

It’s really not about you, but when you make it about you then the whole situation becomes strained. Hurt feelings could equate to tears, which could lead to a man questioning his manhood, and might cause future challenges in the bedroom. It’s a very circular problem. If you take it personally, he’ll take it personally, and the opportunity to conclude with great sex is mutually exclusive and utterly impossible.

The reality

Guys I know have given me two pieces of advice. As a woman you could just back off from the overt sexuality of the situation and cuddle or talk (naked of course). Usually a few minutes of no pressure conversation is all a man needs to get his drive back. The other option is to keep on keeping on. Men have told me that our association between erectness and interest is not quite accurate; they still want to have sex and they still very much could cum. With either approach the key is to remove the immediate pressure of getting hard. Even a supermodel is going to have a difficult time getting a man hard once he’s entered the zone of sexual self-consciousness.

So what do you think about all this? Have you been in this situation? What are your thoughts? Got any advice to share?

What I Mean By Casual Sex

Let me make a quick distinction. Casual sex and one night stands are two entirely different concepts. One night stands are self-explanatory, but I understand casual sex to be something a little less wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am. In my experiences, casual sex is a state that exists somewhere between a one nighter and the concrete confines of a committed relationship.

Tenets of Casual Sex

• The endings are usually much more humane than real break-ups. Since things were never really that serious to begin with, endings to casual sex situations can be mutually beneficial and even compassionate. Exceptions to this tenet occur when one party wants to make the casual thing a serious thing, and the other party is completely ambivalent.
• The sex is usually pretty darn good. There’s a rhyme and reason for going back for more, and it certainly isn’t the bed linens or the pillow talk.
• There is something that is tangibly missing from the equation, making one or both parties opposed to taking the relationship to the next level.

Same City Run-Ins

At a recent social event in my favorite city, I happened to run into a former casual sex partner. Although there was no perceivable awkward tension (we’ve actually run into each other a few times before), I can’t help but wonder what was going through his head when he saw me. My thoughts we’re pretty simple, minus the last one:

Oh there’s XXXX. I would have never guessed that he would be here.

Hmmm, I think he wants to talk to me. I’m not sure what to say, but I’ll just smile and wave.

Maybe we can co-exist in the same room, with common friends, and not have it be uncomfortable.

I wonder if he’s telling that guy he’s chatting with that we’ve had sex. That would be weird.

This is where I need some help. That last thought sent me on a tail spin of what seemed like logical associations that resulted in my final assumption that everyone at the bar knew about my former fling with XXXX. Men, am I crazy to think this? What’s really going through your head when you see a former fling? Are you sharing all the bedroom details with your male or female cohorts? Are you secretly wishing to hook up again? Tell me everything, I promise I won’t judge you. Your help is appreciated!

Let’s take a look at…

50 Things Guys Wish You Knew

Obviously this is copyrighted content, so I can’t recreate or reproduce the text, but here are my top 5 (including the number in the article) and the reasons I think they’re worth paying attention to:

1. Men want to be seduced by their woman (#4). Men love the idea of being an alpha male, but what really gets them hot and bothered in the bedroom is a woman who is really hot for them. It may seem contrary to the sexual roles we’ve come to expect from men and women, but men want to wanted just as much as women do. The really great men know when to take charge, though.
2. Assume that your guy is playing the field until you have the official talk (#9). This isn’t always true, most men I’ve dated are more than happy focusing their attention on one woman almost instantaneously. One caveat is that this one woman must be incredible. You’ll know he thinks you’re amazing, because he won’t let any other man snatch you up. The men that are fickle just aren’t that into you, and speaking from experience, it’s better to walk away early.
3. You can’t always judge a man’s sexual prowess by his dancing abilities (#13). Most women know this, so this one is for the guys. We’re not comparing your dance moves to your bedroom moves, because we’ve learned that coordination isn’t a simple equation. We might be a little turned off, at first, by incredibly bad dance moves though.
4. If you want something in bed, ask for it (#15). Yep. He’ll do it unless it’s crazy.
5. A man wants you more if you make yourself less available to him (#49). It sucks that there is truth to this statement, but if you make yourself too available to your man, there is the potential that he’ll get bored pretty quickly. Just make sure to take your space, because the opposite effect holds true. Guys are inspired and hot for women who have complex and busy lives.

Did you read the article and find more interesting things you’d care to share? Or do you have something to say about my top 5? Do share!

Sex Dos and Don’ts by Topic

Dirty Talk

Do – verbalize how certain types of touches make you feel. Slowly describe each sensation with words that are descriptive and vivid.

Don’t – take dirty talk to taboo areas unless you’ve already tested those waters. It’s a huge turn off to find out that a guy wants me to do something I’m incredibly uncomfortable with. It could even be a deal breaker.

Do – describe the parts of your partner’s body that drive you wild.

Don’t – ever mention anything unflattering about your partner, even if the intention is good.

Oral

Do – reciprocate. One-sided oral encounters feel unbalanced and you come across greedy.

Don’t – expect oral or try to force it. If he/she isn’t willing just drop the subject all together.

Do – pay attention to your partners body movements and noises. Men, you’re doing a good job if her legs start shaking, she grips the things around her with force, her moans increase in volume, or her pelvis moves with your motions, etc. You could use some more direction if she moves around or fidgets, she is relatively quiet, or she keeps interrupting you.

Don’t – get disappointed or discouraged if your efforts don’t result in an orgasm. Most people want to cum and are more than happy to provide tips to help them get there.

Do (men to women) – use a combination of tongue and fingers simultaneously. This technique works wonders.

Don’t – use too much force. It can get painful.

Foreplay

Do – it. Don’t skip foreplay; women need it.

Don’t – forget that foreplay should be reciprocal. It’s not about you, it’s about the experience you both have.

Do – kiss, makeout, touch, and explore each other’s bodies.

Don’t – worry about common mishaps like the inability to remove a bra, or your pants taking too long to take off. These things are normal.

Do – take special care to find out which spots are more sensitive than others. For example, the back of my neck is extremely sensitive, and guys that pay attention to this area get major bonus points.

Don’t – hesitate to communicate what really turns you on (see dirty talk).

Positions

Do – try more than one position (but don’t get too carried away).

Don’t – get in too much of a position routine. Know what positions work best to achieve climax, but experiment with your approach to get there.

Do – mix up your speeds. Experiment with different paces and watch your partner’s physical responses to determine what they like best. Just remember that fast doesn’t equal better.

Don’t – assume that changing positions every 10 seconds makes you a good lover. You may know the kama sutra inside and out, but changing positions constantly can ruin a good flow. A good rule of thumb is to stick with three positions per session.

Post-Coital

Do – clean up whatever mess was made, but…

Don’t – run away too fast. Bonding after sex is key to developing intimacy.

Do – take a shower together.

Do – cuddle.

Don’t – roll over and take a nap immediately.

Don’t – get carried away with emotional/mushy talk. You just connected on a sexual level, and connecting on an emotional level is great, but don’t go overboard (if you’re a chic) because guys usually can’t process that much right after they cum.

More to Come

Ha that’s a double entendre! I look forward to your comments on some sex dos and don’ts that you’ve experienced first hand. Feel free to stay anonymous if you’d like.