Lemondrop

It's not news that sexual fluidity has been working its way into the mainstream. We all know the girl who experimented in college and then went back to guys, or the middle-aged woman who left her husband for some turquoise artisan in Taos named Deborah.

Both seem to be examples of the stronger sexual preference winning out in the end. But more and more, it's becoming acceptable for women to "hop the fence" -- that is, to make the occasional gender switch-up in casual sex and in long-term relationships. I know, 'cause I'm one of 'em.

Although I'd always privately identified as bisexual, I'd only dated boys before I met a girl I had instant chemistry with. We had an amazing, insanely sexy couple of months, but we wanted different things out of a partner, and things fizzled in the natural way romantic relationships of either persuasion do.

The next person I dated happened to be a guy, and it was wildly irritating when my parents and friends -- who had been supportive of my dating a girl, if dubious -- acted vindicated. I wasn't bisexual, they thought -- I was just going through a phase. When I dated another girl a year later, they were more respectful of the fact that it was an actual relationship. This, apparently, was how it was going to be.

More and more of us are deciding to shirk traditional definitions of sexuality in favour of doing what feels natural. We all know a girl who says she's always been attracted to other women but has never really done anything about it, save the occasional bar make-out or session spent watching girl-on-girl porn. So why don't more women act on it?

Pop quiz: How do you get that shy guy you've been casually seeing to start making "power moves"? Tell him you have to review Eric Marlowe Garrison's "Mastering Multiple Position Sex: Mind-Blowing Lovemaking Techniques that Create Unforgettable Orgasms."

A sex counselor, lecturer and bona fide sexpert, Garrison claims that transitioning from a series of seductive sexual positions can help couples enjoy more powerful orgasms. Imagine a more strategic and efficient Kama Sutra. Enough said!

What Worked

The book is filled with full-page colour photographs of bare-assed couples demonstrating the moves. Flipping through the pages, it's easy to become mesmerized, and inspired, by the various positions, which range from the basic Mutt (that's doggy-style to you and me) to the for-yoga-instructors-only Weather Vane, (which has the woman being held at a 90-degree angle with her legs wrapped around the male's thighs as he enters from behind and holds on for dear life).

A few months ago, my husband and I announced that we'd gotten married on the most wide-reaching publication known to us: Facebook.

Yup, we changed our statuses. Everyone knew we were engaged and that we'd been planning a very small destination ceremony, but what they didn't know was that we'd already been married for two years.

Let's back this up. Two years ago, my boyfriend and I had been dating for a little over a year and were head over heels in love. And not the crazy kind of love, where it feels like a self-destructing entity and you're just trying to enjoy it while you can. This was a fully immersive and yet still functional and beautiful relationship.

My boyfriend had some issues with the words associated with commitment, but not the actions. Though we'd only recently started saying "I love you," I knew by how he treated me that he had loved me for quite some time. So obviously, marriage had not even been put on the table and wasn't something I was desperately salivating for. We were happy.

It's been said that, in matters of love, "When you know, you know." But when it comes to matters of cohabitation, sometimes you can be right about the guy, and not the living-together part. I know because my boyfriend and I recently learned that while we're meant to share our lives, we're not meant to share an apartment.

He and I moved in together after just six months. Yeah, I know, much too soon, but it was the logical thing to do as we were both moving out of our places and had the opportunity to take a short-term sublet in New York City. It seemed like no big deal to live together for a bit, but obviously, that wasn't quite true. But to be quite honest, we were still in the phase where sex was good (like really, really good) that I didn't even care -- the thought of a permanent hotel room sounded pretty incredible.

And it was incredible. For the first three months.

I'm a girl who reads career books, dispenses work advice to friends and regularly updates her résumé. So, when I started to have feelings for my co-worker I protested. Heavily. I tried to push fantasies of us in bed out of my head by listing reasons we would be terrible together. Thankfully, he realized "she doth protest too much" and decided to kiss me anyway. So there we were.

Once we got together I was determined not to have the relationship ruin my career, but I also didn't want to paralyze my relationship with worry. It's some tricky territory, but I've learned to navigate it well. Here are my instructions:

1. Wait for love (or extreme like). Dating a co-worker is not casual dating; it's a commitment. Do you fall in crazy lust one day but can't stand the guy the next? Then it's probably not a good idea to date someone you have to see every day; the breakup could be brutal. Don't rush into anything too quickly. Besides, if you do get together, all those months of sexually charged meetings will make the first time great.

2. Do your homework. Know your company's policy on dating, and do nothing that can get you fired. If they do not allow dating in the workplace, I wouldn't recommend going forward with the relationship. If there isn't a policy, proceed with caution to step three.

My boyfriend and I had broken up, and my heart was in pieces.

I needed a weird and fluky experience to distract me from reality and test my ability to feign composure. And, as we all know, the first step in getting over heartbreak is random sex. What better way to combine sex and weirdness than Craigslist, where people hook up based on absolutely nothing -- luck, timing, fate?

I consulted my Meaningless Hookup Expert, aka my Best Gay Friend, to formulate a plan; presented here for your gawking/edification is our first-hand guide on how to have a cathartic, post-breakup, strings-free CL hookup.

Step 1: Have a plan

The more time you spend reading posts on CL is directly proportional to how likely you are to be scared out of it. So have a goal, and get cracking. I decided I wanted to have a threesome with a couple in their mid-to-late 30s. I pictured an established yuppie couple (multi-ethnic if I was being choosy) with a wine rack and built-in bookshelves. They would welcome me casually, and we'd do our thing, and I would leave somehow feeling like I'd learned a thing or two.

I "came out" when I was 18 years old.

Except that I'm straight. If I had come out as a lesbian, most people would have reacted normally to that ... which is not at all what happened when I came out a confirmed virgin.

When I tell most people that I took a purity pledge, they usually say the same things: "Are you serious?" or, "You'll never make it," and, "People just weren't meant to do that." But here I am more than two years later, still living a "pure" life. I'm not a hardcore Christian like the Duggar girls. I'm not super-prim and I don't wear long skirts. I believe in the principles behind remaining "pure," and the reasons that I follow are my own.

Now I'll be honest. Purity rings and pledges weren't part of my upbringing. At risk of sounding like some kind of easily influenced teenie-bopper, the first time I heard about purity pledges was from celebrities. Whether or not they kept them, the reasons that Disney stars gave for saving themselves for marriage -- focusing on their careers, waiting for love, and respecting their partners' bodies -- were what initially sold me on the promise I still keep today.

There are four words a wedding photographer never wants to hear: "cameras on the tables." You might as well say it: "my drunken friends will be jumping in your way all night, trying to take blurry pictures of what I hired you to do."

If I sound cranky, I can't help it. In five years of shooting weddings, the drunken friends hopping in my way are only the tip of the iceberg.

Because just as I'm about to get the money shot -- the one the bride and groom have put down a deposit for -- there they are, 17 revelers with tiny boxes pointed at the same scene. And you, dear bride, are going to pay to develop every single one of them. Rethinking those cameras? I thought so. Here, some other pet peeves of myself and other professional shutterbugs.

And while you're at it, turn off "Bridezillas."