Arielle Miller Author

 On Leading a Double Life One of the reasons I wrote my memoir  – and then, ironically, one of the reasons I hesitated to publish it - was because I was leading a double life.  I’m not being dramatic here. I was quite literally leading two separate lives: At home, I donned sweats and made bad jokes and cooked and cleaned and nagged my kids to shower and do their homework;  On Wednesdays, Thursdays and every other weekend, I wore stilettos and designer dresses, went out to shows and fancy restaurants, laughed at handsome suitors' jokes, and relearned to embrace and express my sexuality and individuality. For the first time in over a decade, I was a single being in the world - not defined as one half of a couple, not seen only as a mother to my children.  It was frightening, confusing, exciting, and terrifying. I felt constantly - whether out, having a social life (for the first time in what felt like an eternity), or home with my kids (meeting the expectati...

  On Intentionality I recently dated a man who seemed, at first glance, amazing. Perfect. Too good to be true.  He was tall, handsome, intelligent, shared my passion for reading, traveling, baking, maintaining a healthy lifestyle, and he, too, was a parent of three teenagers.  During our very first conversation, he cheered, “let’s Brady Bunch the shit out of this!”  I laughed, and secretly thought, "Hell yeah!" We messaged, talked on the phone and got to know one another at great length for nearly a month before our schedules aligned to meet in person.  Despite the long wait - perhaps because of it - I'd never been so excited about a first date! Not trying to get ahead of myself, he was the type of man I could really see myself falling for, a man with whom I could see myself building a life. And from everything he told me, I thought he felt the same way. Or, at least, I thought that was the goal. Then, just a few days before we were to finally meet, he did...

  My Year as a Middle-aged, Online S3x Symbol  When my children were 1, 2 and 3 years old respectively, I left my job as a college instructor to be a stay-at-home-mom.  The 'position' lasted over ten years, during which time  I lost friends and hobbies, stopped working out, didn't wear makeup, rarely talked about anything that didn't involve my kids, and barely left the house.  For over a decade, I felt... invisible; f or all intents and purposes, I was invisible. But after my divorce, I once again began to prioritize my health, my fit, myself. I decided to have a life again.  And that life was so incredible, so fun, so insane, so heartbreaking... I decided to publish a tell-all, post-divorce sex and dating memoir  - and, of course, promote it on social media. However, I could not have predicted what happened next in a million years...  I became a middle-aged, online sex symbol. *** On January 1, 2025, I published the ironically (and raunchily) ti...

I miss… wait for it… an...ti...ci...pation.. . You know, that feeling of NOT getting what you want immediately; of NOT having whatever your heart desires at the touch of a button - be it the news, Chinese takeout or a jumbo package of toilet paper at your front door? I miss the excitement of possibility ... Of going out to a party or event hoping to meet someone interesting, waiting to hear from them, waiting to go out on a date with them, and waiting to learn everything about them – slowly, over time. I’ve come to realize that one of my biggest problems with dating apps is that it completely obliterates the delicious anticipation we used to relish in the process of dating. Now you click a box – “want a relationship” or “looking for fun,” “want kids” or “no kids!”   You click a link to a potential date's social media profile and learn everything about them from what elementary school they attended to what birthday cake they ate this year; You click on photos and see ...

Excerpt from: F*ck Me: A Memoir  Introduction W hen I split with my husband in the fall of 2019, I came to terms with the fact that I’d possibly never fall in love again, never have a romantic relationship again, or ever even have sex again. To move forward, I had to be OK with that. I had to believe that my life would still be better. At that point, I’d forgotten how important intimacy was for the body and soul, how important physical affection was to my personal well-being and happiness. And it certainly didn’t occur to me that sexual fulfillment would make the difference between me being just a mother and me being a woman .             To say that sex was the last thing on my mind is an understatement. Those first few years following my separation were decidedly the worst of my life. Apart from the ugly, drawn-out divorce taking place, I was also grieving the recent passing of my father and dealing with his messy est...

  When I started telling people about my sex and dating memoir , I received a similar response from nearly everyone:  “You’ll use a pen name, right?” Each time I’d respond with a laugh.  “Nope.” A look of horror would then takeover the faces of my well-meaning loved ones (who didn’t want to see me “ruin my life” for a book). At first, they’d try to convince me to change my mind. Some gently, others firmly. They'd remind me that I had children ( oh, really? ) and that one day I might want to work for someone who wasn't too thrilled by my exploits ( um, no ), that I might regret it one day ( oh well!),  and that I Really. Should. Think. About. It. But it didn't matter. I'd made up my mind. I was determined to publish my story as a 100% factual memoir, not a thinly-veiled piece of fiction - with my real name attached. This was for two reasons: Firstly, I'm proud of my life. I’m proud of my story. I don’t feel the need to hide anything. So why wouldn’t I put...