Moral of the Story

When I came across this quote my first response was, “Cute! It’s pithy, bitchy and just arrogant enough that a guy would drop to his knees for a woman like this” …which may be true. Lord knows I’ve played this card before and yes, it is effective. It’s no secret that men like bitches (Sherry Argov wrote a very funny book to this extent). Chalk it up to their secret, internal desires for a dominatrix…or to their overbearing mothers.

But the quote left me feeling unsettled. I mulled it over and here’s what I came up with:

I don’t think it’s fair to men.

If women want men to respect them, then creating a double standard is not the way to go about it. Telling a man that you’ll be ready in five minutes, but then keeping him waiting and guessing as to when you’re actually going to be ready, means that you are being unreliable, untruthful, and just a wee bit of an asshole. Let’s face it. If he said he was going to be home at 7pm and didn’t show up exactly then and kept you guessing as to when he would arrive–there would be hell to pay.  If men don’t know how to please women, it could be on account of double standards like these. If women want to be in a grown up relationship, where both parties are behaving as such, then taking responsibility for the part we play is much more effective than “fixing” him. Moral of the story: Bring to the relationship that which you want to receive.

Call of the Wild

“It’s called orgling.”

“I beg your pardon?” I replied innocently. I was touring an alpaca farm and my naïve mind still refused to believe that the owner of this farm was actually going to make me watch the alpacas breed. I still believed she was just feeding me background information. You know, the alpaca facts.

“Orgling. It’s the sound the males make when they are mating with the females. You’ll hear it here in just a few minutes.” I could only hope that meant that we were going to be in the sitting room, sipping tea and we would hear the yodeling or orgling or whatever the hell it was called through the walls.

“Oh…” I replied, looking for words, “That’s nice.”

I kicked at a stone that was caught on a piece of hay. “So, do the females like the orgling or do they fight the males off?” I didn’t truly care, but I was trying to feign interest in a desperate attempt to keep the owner talking and distracted as to avoid having to watch the alpaca love-fest. I do teach about Understanding Women, however, that boundary squarely stops at humans…or at least I thought it did.

“Oh no! When the females ovulate they’re like cheap whores. They can’t get it fast enough!”

That’s it. I had officially heard too much.

Not two minutes after that, I had also officially seen more than I had ever seen on any episode of Wild Kingdom.

I did not enjoy the male alpaca’s orgling. It sounded like someone trying to yodel with their lips shut. I’ll take, “Hey baby, can I buy you a drink?” any day over an orgle. Then again, I’m not an alpaca. But, she was right about those ladies. They couldn’t drop it to the floor, bend over and assume the position fast enough. Bullets have left guns slower.

After I had gotten over my shock of witnessing alpaca sex (my fun voyeuristic tendencies apparently do not apply to livestock) I starting to think of those female alpacas and their exceedingly strong “Bring it on” attitudes when it comes to dudes (well, alpaca dudes anyway).

orgle.png

Part of me is shy to admit it (yes, believe it or not, there is a shy bone in my body. It’s just very, very, very tiny…), but the same “Bring it on” attitude towards sex can be very true of women. Men just get most of the credit for being hypersexual. Lucky bastards. However, women can often become quite…well…randy, horny, passionate and downright demanding of sex. Our desire for a hunk-a-hunk of burning love takes over—or at least it does on good days—and we, like the alpaca honeys, want sex…

Or is there something else that we want in addition to the sex…

Without a doubt, the physical sensation of sex is so downright delicious that I may have to go and have some before I finish writing this…and yet, it never seems to be the physical sensation of sex that truly satiates me. It’s all of the rest of it. It’s the pillow talk. It’s the companionship. It’s being adored, and desired, and touched, and looked at. It’s the gratitude that is shared between us for an experience of primal delight. It seems like I only want my hot, wild sex when it’s served with a side of warm, affectionate closeness.

I have no problem saying that sex is one of my favorite activities to indulge my wild nature. I also have no problem freely admitting that my pleasure in sex goes far beyond having my wild nature go and play with someone else’s wild nature. In essence, sex, is not all about the sex. For me, the call of the wild happens when tapping into that depth—that depth of admiring the beauty and passion in another, of feeling it within myself, and of the delicate intimacy that is created between the two of us when such experiences of wild abandon gently open the door to Love…

Princes and Fairy Tales

I have no problems when it comes to fairy tales: Snow White, Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty—bring ‘em on. I don’t mind it when the knight in shining armor finds his beloved beauty, kisses her, slays the dragon, breaks the spell and carries her off to his castle. It actually makes me sigh with a quiet happiness. It’s romantic. It’s heart-warming. It beats getting picked up in a bar by a man in a cheap suit with even cheaper pick up lines any day. One has romance that plucks at my heartstrings; the other has me rolling my eyes and praying that these men start to read my blog and actually learn something about women.

Even though I am an independent and well accomplished woman, I must admit to this one devastating fact (Yes, I am having a “Forgive me Goddess for I have sinned,” moment): For me, there is nothing in the world—no job, no amount of money and no prestige, that feels quite as good as having someone you love look deeply into your eyes and love you back. For me, this intimacy creates inner-peace. It creates a feeling of union, and it usually creates a “no-pants-on” scenario at some point in this love story.

But I realize that I am one of few women to openly admit to how important falling in love is to us…otherwise, doing so might brand us as needy, co-dependent ninnies that are time-warping back to the fifties. Women’s Liberation somehow required us not only to burn our bras, but our love stories too. In order to become strong, independent women, we were no longer allowed to be rescued by Prince Charming. So, we opened our own doors, moved into our own apartments, got on the pill and got jobs. We started swearing the Sacred Oath of Womanhood that our work, who we are, and what we want should never be sacrificed for love…

But some of us, the brave ones, kept the old tattered tales of love safely hidden under our pillows at night. We snuck them out to read in the solitude of our own bedrooms when no one would be around to judge how truly schmaltzy we still are when it comes to falling in love.

I, for one, need a man. I need a partner in crime, a goofy friend, a touchstone of reality. I need the man who knows how to carry me off to our magical castle with one look. I need the man who knows how to awaken who I am with something as passionate as a kiss. I need a champion on this journey through life so that when I do screw up and eat the poisoned apple, someone is there who can breathe life back into me again.

Happy Boobs!

I lose weight and suddenly my boobs shrink and my bras are big on me. Not fair #understandingwomen, not fair at all!

So yes, here’s a boob picture…more of them can be seen in your own imagination-run-wild than in this picture, but you get what you pay for. I had a terrible reaction to my own body today–and this coming from the woman who half teaches/half preaches about womanhood!

Alright, here’s my confession: Forgive me Goddess for I have sinned. Upon getting dressed in front of my mirror this morning I literally had a slump-style moment when I realized that while I am losing weight, I am also losing boob mass. Tragic, I know. Now, over the past few months I have been tightening up my body, looking good, strutting my stuff, and yet I literally stood there in front of the full length mirror holding my boobs in their now larger-than-life bra-cups and wondering how this could be possible. I was supposed to lose the non-sexy weight–not the sexy stuff. A fear started creeping up inside of me, “Oh shit, if I lose weight from my boobs instead of from other parts of my body, then I will look all caddywompus and out of whack!”

Translation: “Who will want me if I don’t look like Malibu Barbie?”

Sound familiar? Like so many other perfectly sane women, I was going through a crisis of body faith. Just from looking in the mirror, I had decided that I wasn’t enough to look at–and that was without even sharing my boobs with anyone to see (or touch for that matter)!

Truth be told, my desperation only set in with comparison…like when I believed that my body was not measuring up to what I assume beauty should look like.Apparently, my definition of beauty includes a nice rack. I was fearful that I would be out of the beauty league if I lost mine.The fact that I focused on my shrinking breasts instead of the fact that my whole body is shrinking up nicely, shined a big ol’ spotlight on the fact that it’s not the men who are to blame for exploiting women’s bodies–we do it to ourselves without a problem.

Penance for my sin Goddess? Rectify the ridiculous thoughts that breasts are the only part of a woman that is sexy, that they are necessary in order to be loved, or that they are anything less than tantalizing no matter the size or shape.So here I go…My breasts, like the rest of me, are a gorgeous part of my body. They are voluptuous and sensitive and even if they were the size of Raisinets I’m still pretty sure that people would look and possibly break out into spontaneous applause if I took my shirt off in public. My boobs make me happy. I hope from the bottom of my now extra spacious bras, that your boobs also bring you much happiness and delight!

Jennifer