She Probably Lives in Tahiti

You know how you leave a guy's name and number in your cell phone long after you know he's not going to call you anymore because if he does call you want to recognize it's him, and then after a really long time you finally get it, he truly, sincerely is not going to call you anymore so you delete his name and phone number from your phone because it gives you a little bit of a pinch to the heart every time you happen to see it in there when you're looking for something else? You heave a great big ol' sigh and mentally say farewell to him forever and take one last chance to moan and groan over the idea that you won't ever see him again. Then you delete the number and let it go.

And two weeks later an unrecognized number pops up on the screen as your phone rings, and you answer it wondering who it is, only to have your heart turn inside out at the sudden, unexpected sound of his voice.

That's a good metaphor for what's happening to me right now. For years I cherished a deep and hopeful dream in my heart that I might find a way to leave Texas with my son to live in some other very un-Texaslike place far away. Even when it seemed unlikely, I held on to the hope that it might. I definitely wanted to be ready if the opportunity presented itself, so I had no thoughts of buying a home or doing anything that would be difficult for us to walk away from (like a marriage or starting my own business).

Whenever my lease came up to renew, there's that pinch of pain in my heart as I think how much I wish I could be packing up a Uhaul instead of renewing the lease. Whenever job recruiters called me to mention job opportunities in other states, it pinched me even if the job was one I wouldn't take or located in a place I wouldn't live anyway. Just the reminder that the world is full of people who are free to live their lives wherever they want to live or move anywhere they like whenever they feel like it, but I'm not one of those people. Ow, the pinch!

Okay, so I finally decided to take that number out of the cell phone of my heart and bid farewell to the hope that it might happen for me. I indulged in a few days of moaning and groaning over it, then I contacted a real estate agent and started the process of buying a house. Got us a good one, and then went to work decorating it and filling it with furniture. Really big house, lots and lots of furniture and decorations. And I bought a second car. What a nightmare it would be to move--not just out of state but to move anywhere at all would be an incredible hassle---but I didn't think of it because I no longer had any other idea for us than that we'd stay put right here for the forseeable future. Last year I decided to fulfill a lifelong dream of opening a bookstore, and I set about making that a reality. The only thing I could have done to make our status as Texans more permanent was to get married, and that's not likely to happen in any state at any time.

So here I sit, with my roots thrust down into the dry Texas soil, and I am most definitely more rooted than I've ever been in my life, when suddenly the phone rings and I glance at the screen to see an idea I didn't recognize cuz it had been a year since the last time it pinched my heart. Like a whirlwind, my dream whipped back into my mind and turned all the serenity into chaos.

Good-bye, Texas. The decision wasn't really difficult to make at all, even though I will have an absolute booger of a time pulling up these roots and I will miss my house and all the stuff I put in it. There aren't many people in Texas I'll miss, at least not many I'd have been likely to see again anyway.

Guess where I'm going....here's a hint.

With all the knots I have to untie here, it'll be a while before I'm gone, but by the end of this year, darlings, you gonna have to go the whole wide world just to find Tess, and she ain't coming back.

Why Women are Better than Men

Before reading this essay and Penty’s opposing argument, imagine that you are a soul completely without gender. You are preparing to enter life here on our big blue marble and you will use this debate to determine which gender to be born with. Now, you might not make your choice based on which is the better gender. You’ll be convinced that women are better, of course, but there’s no denying the challenges you’d face as a woman so you can’t be faulted for choosing the easier gender in spite of its inferiority. However, when you record your vote at the Collective Bias community, your vote should reflect who won the debate (which gender is better), not necessarily which gender you are or would choose to be.

Disclaimer: I am not a man-hater.

1) Violence is almost exclusively a male pasttime. Women grasp the futility of war, hate crimes and physical displays of anger and power. Your chances of being beaten, shot or mugged by a woman are extremely low. Your chances of being raped by a woman are zero.

2) Weird sexual fetishes are also almost exclusive to the male gender. Take a look at what women have had to do throughout history (see Chinese footbinding and Corsets links below) and continue to do today (see Britney boob job link below) to satisfy man’s bizarre sense of erotic attraction. Women have never insisted that men mutilate, starve or deform themselves to be attractive.

Next time you’re in the adult video store, take notice of the gender of the patrons browsing the Fetish section. It’s not likely you’ll see a woman there shopping for the latest Golden Showers or Fisting video. If there’s a web site out there devoted to giant turds and "interesting things I pulled out of my ass," you can bet, it’s a man’s website.

3) Men think farting and The Three Stooges are funny. This is a maturity issue. There’s no denying, most men never grow up. Now some might mistake this for a benefit rather than a detriment, but that too is a maturity issue. Only the immature think it’s cool to be immature. Women know there is a time to be a child and a time to grow up.

4) One reason people give for having children is to achieve immortality--to pass their soul along to another human being to be carried forward into the future for eternity. If a child is thought to hold the immortal soul of its parents, it is the woman who holds and carries her soul within her body, nourishing it, energizing it and releasing it. The soul of Man is always outside of himself.

5) The most compelling argument for the superiority of women lies in the instiution of patriarchy itself. If the gender competition is likened to a horse race, it is clear that Man has gone to great lengths to cripple the female horse from the start. Now why would you put such effort toward disabling your opponent unless you feared she was better than you and might actually win? Imagine the fearful position Man must find himself in now as he gallups along, only to glance behind and see that female horse, with only three good legs to run on still gaining on him and closing the distance fast? There can be no doubt, without the crippling effects of patriarchy, Woman would have overtaken Man long ago and won this silly little race by a long shot.

And the irony is, if not for Man’s competetive nature, there would have been no need for a race to begin with! It was never Woman’s aim to "beat" Man or to dominate him. It was Man who set up the race, defined the rules and the goals and then created limitations on Woman’s ability to reach the finish line. Men decided this kind of career is necessary to win and this way of life is successful and this is how you must look to be victorious--and then they high-fived themselves because they’d stacked the deck and made it so that women could achieve none of those things.

And then we did. We really are amazing, aren’t we? We took their challenge, hobbled up to the starting line on our deformed feet, with our silicone implants and our hairless bodies, our 4-inch heels and 20-inch waists, with more responsibilities and less pay, we showed them we could achieve their goals and win their game.

Imagine the race we could run with the bindings removed! With our self-esteem intact, our bodies healthy and unaltered, our talents and achievements respected and fairly compensated!

Or imagine if we changed the race entirely and set our own goals and standards for success. We could train Man to be more like us, reverse thousands of years of patriarchal dogma and entitlement, teach him to curb his aggressive instincts or channel his aggression in positive ways.

Or we could leave Man to his violence and destruction, to amuse himself with fart jokes and The Simpsons while we create peace, save the planet and make the world a better place for our immortal souls, our children, to live forever.

Before reading this essay and Penty’s opposing argument, imagine that you are a soul completely without gender. You are preparing to enter life here on our big blue marble and you will use this debate to determine which gender to be born with. Now, you might not make your choice based on which is the better gender. You’ll be convinced that women are better, of course, but there’s no denying the challenges you’d face as a woman so you can’t be faulted for choosing the easier gender in spite of its inferiority. However, when you record your vote at the Collective Bias community, your vote should reflect who won the debate (which gender is better), not necessarily which gender you are or would choose to be.

Disclaimer: I am not a man-hater.

1) Violence is almost exclusively a male pasttime. Women grasp the futility of war, hate crimes and physical displays of anger and power. Your chances of being beaten, shot or mugged by a woman are extremely low. Your chances of being raped by a woman are zero.

2) Weird sexual fetishes are also almost exclusive to the male gender. Take a look at what women have had to do throughout history (see Chinese footbinding and Corsets links below) and continue to do today (see Britney boob job link below) to satisfy man’s bizarre sense of erotic attraction. Women have never insisted that men mutilate, starve or deform themselves to be attractive.

Next time you’re in the adult video store, take notice of the gender of the patrons browsing the Fetish section. It’s not likely you’ll see a woman there shopping for the latest Golden Showers or Fisting video. If there’s a web site out there devoted to giant turds and "interesting things I pulled out of my ass," you can bet, it’s a man’s website.

3) Men think farting and The Three Stooges are funny. This is a maturity issue. There’s no denying, most men never grow up. Now some might mistake this for a benefit rather than a detriment, but that too is a maturity issue. Only the immature think it’s cool to be immature. Women know there is a time to be a child and a time to grow up.

4) One reason people give for having children is to achieve immortality--to pass their soul along to another human being to be carried forward into the future for eternity. If a child is thought to hold the immortal soul of its parents, it is the woman who holds and carries her soul within her body, nourishing it, energizing it and releasing it. The soul of Man is always outside of himself.

5) The most compelling argument for the superiority of women lies in the instiution of patriarchy itself. If the gender competition is likened to a horse race, it is clear that Man has gone to great lengths to cripple the female horse from the start. Now why would you put such effort toward disabling your opponent unless you feared she was better than you and might actually win? Imagine the fearful position Man must find himself in now as he gallups along, only to glance behind and see that female horse, with only three good legs to run on still gaining on him and closing the distance fast? There can be no doubt, without the crippling effects of patriarchy, Woman would have overtaken Man long ago and won this silly little race by a long shot.

And the irony is, if not for Man’s competetive nature, there would have been no need for a race to begin with! It was never Woman’s aim to "beat" Man or to dominate him. It was Man who set up the race, defined the rules and the goals and then created limitations on Woman’s ability to reach the finish line. Men decided this kind of career is necessary to win and this way of life is successful and this is how you must look to be victorious--and then they high-fived themselves because they’d stacked the deck and made it so that women could achieve none of those things.

And then we did. We really are amazing, aren’t we? We took their challenge, hobbled up to the starting line on our deformed feet, with our silicone implants and our hairless bodies, our 4-inch heels and 20-inch waists, with more responsibilities and less pay, we showed them we could achieve their goals and win their game.

Imagine the race we could run with the bindings removed! With our self-esteem intact, our bodies healthy and unaltered, our talents and achievements respected and fairly compensated!

Or imagine if we changed the race entirely and set our own goals and standards for success. We could train Man to be more like us, reverse thousands of years of patriarchal dogma and entitlement, teach him to curb his aggressive instincts or channel his aggression in positive ways.

Or we could leave Man to his violence and destruction, to amuse himself with fart jokes and The Simpsons while we create peace, save the planet and make the world a better place for our immortal souls, our children, to live forever.

With all of that potential just waiting to burst forth, who wouldn’t want to be a woman??

With all of that potential just waiting to burst forth, who wouldn’t want to be a woman??

Someone You Love Was Raped

One in every four women is raped.

(This statistic comes from two sources: Cunt by Inga Muscio and The Second Rape by someone whose name I forgot. I also checked this statistic out at the national statistics website, which I also can't remember now. Sorry.)

This means that if you love more than four women (mother, sisters, aunts, friends, wife, daughters, etc) then at least one of them has been or will be raped. In fact, I'm betting the number is actually higher than the statistics reflect because so many rapes go unreported.

Can you imagine what would happen if one in every four straight white men were ass-raped by gay men? How long would it be before every gay man in the country was rounded up and lynched? I'm thinkin' New York Minute.

But nobody seems particularly outraged by rape of women in our society. I have a theory about why. Actually the theory came from The Second Rape but it makes a lot of sense to me.

The problem is that neither men nor women want to believe it is happening. Everyone desperately wants to imagine that something else actually happened. They imagine that women who cry rape are either lying or confused about what really happened.

Why men do it

When humans learned to use metal to craft tools and weapons, men figured out that they could quite easily go over to villages near and far, defeat the other people there, take all their stuff and rule their land. In order to do this most effectively, men developed a team spirit. "Them" vs. "Us" Men on the same team learned to stick up for one another, watch out for one another, defend each other.

This brotherhood-of-man tendency is still alive today. Every man thinks of rapists as "them" and not "us." A rapist is a big black ex-convict who breaks into a defenseless white woman's house and has his way with her. Or he's a freaky bearded lunatic hiding in the bushes waiting to abduct some unsespecting girl on her way home.

So when a normal, clean cut white man is accused of the crime, men instinctively resist the idea. Oh no, not one of us, it can't be. She must have lied. So the teammate gets the benefit of the doubt and it is the woman who must be scrutinized and judged.

I think men are afraid to admit that men like themselves can commit rape because it suggests that any man could.

Why Women do it

With the advent of patriarchy, women did not develop a similar team spirit. The quality of a woman's life depended on how pleasing she could be to the male gender and a spirit of competition emerged among women. They benefitted more from betraying than from supporting one another. They became catty and critical of each other.

They knew where their bread was buttered and there was more to be gained by believing a lie told by a man than in believing the truth told by a woman.

Not to mention, women are afraid to admit that women like themselves can become victims of rape because it suggests that any woman could.

How do we change this? How about giving every woman who alleges that she was raped the same benefit of the doubt you would give to your own mother or daughter if she alleged the same thing? How about teaching our sons that sex is not their birthright as a male and that no woman is obligated to give him an orgasm just because he got hard while in her presence? How about teaching our daughters more about the importance of feminine bonding and setting firm boundaries and self-respect and less about being cute, sexy, flirtatious and how to please a man?

The Emperor of the Remote Control

Every man plays this game. Before marriage, he practices alone, so he'll be in Olympic shape for when he's married. For the benefit of the wives out there who must be the opponent (victim) in this game, let me at least clear up the rules and methods of play.

The Object of the Game

The purpose of the game, or the general goal, is to drive the wife out of the room twitching and drooling with frustration. When that happens, he has won and he will set the remote control aside, quite pleased with himself, and contentedly watch whatever is on tv at that moment. If the wife re-enters the room, that signals the start of a new game and his hand will snatch the remote control and start clicking.

The object of the game is to travel the circle of television channels, using the remote control, hitting every channel once and staying on each channel for the barest minimum amount of time.

Scoring Points

Points are scored as follows:

No points for any channel that is landed on for more than three seconds.

Commercials must be clicked away immediately when they are recognized as commercials. In fact, when watching television, a commercial is the universal sign that the game should begin. When he has mastered the game, he should be able to recognize a commercial in a tiny fraction of a second.

Score no points for any completed sentence, phrase or thought that is uttered in the time that a channel is landed on. On the contrary, the only way to gain points in this game is to click away at the very most critical point of such an utterance.

For instance, for the following: "...look at that shot! He nearly took his head off!" Zero points for letting the announcer finish that phrase. Five points for cutting away at "...look at that shot! He nearly took--" Bonus points for being fast enough on the draw to click away at "...look at that--" causing her head to spin around to see what is being looked at just in time to witness his masterful display of clicking ability.

Bonus points for clicking away at crucial points such as "The most important thing President Bush said tonight was--" Or "...wasn’t that hilarious? Let’s see it again--" Or "...just couldn’t believe it when she said--"

One hundred points for finding any sporting event other than football and leaving it on that channel for three solid hours. This is an excellent way to win the game as she probably can’t take more than ten minutes or so of baseball or hockey before leaving the room to find some wet paint and watch it dry.

One hundred points for finding any female nudity and leaving it on that channel until the nudity goes away.

Ten points for finding any male nudity and leaving it on that channel until she has had a brief glimpse, and then quickly click away.

Bonus points can be made for taking the extra care and effort to find out what shows and entertainers are her favorites and clicking away from them automatically whenever he sees them.

Wives, there is no point in fighting back in this game. You will not be allowed to touch the remote control as long as he is in the room. Your only defense is to pretend that it doesn’t bother you and just sit there with a catatonic smile on your face staring at the television images as they flicker by.

Remember, if you crack up...he wins.

The Politics of Motherhood

The abortion debate is not about unborn babies. I bet you knew that, didn’t you? If it were, there would be a similar outcry over every issue involving the lives of babies. Such as lack of healthcare, babies born addicted to drugs, babies killed after being left in hot vehicles, etc. Every year here in Texas someone leaves a kid in a carseat in 100 degree weather and the kid bakes. No public outcry. No organized protest. In fact, the person responsible usually escapes criminal prosecution.

But do you really know what it is about? The pro-life attempt to criminalize abortion is not about saving the lives of unborn babies. If it were about that, you’d see pro-lifers working toward preventing unwanted pregnancies and better adoption rates of unwanted children.

People generally don’t put a lot of time and effort into an issue unless it directly affects them. So..how are pro-lifers directly affected by the abortions of others?

The abortion debate is about women and their role in society. I never understood why pro-lifers are so concerned about what other people do or don’t do with their unwanted pregnancies. If in your mind abortion is murder, then don’t have one. If you’re going to get upset when someone else "murders" their unborn child, then you should be prepared to get just as upset over every other murder that occurs in this country. You hear about murders every day and probably don’t give it much of a thought. Why is it this one particular form of "murder" is so atrocious that it needs to be addressed so passionately?

The answer is because pro-life activists perceive abortion, not as a threat to unborn babies but to their own world view. The typical pro-life woman is a wife and mother who either does not work outside the home after the birth of her child or regards her primary role as homemaker. She considers her role--motherhood--as the most important and proper role for a woman to have. She doesn’t condemn career women for choosing another role, but believes that motherhood should usurp any other role in a woman’s life, whether it was intentional or not.

Feminist advances have made women like this feel degraded and threatened. If women are able to compete for the same kinds of success that men strive for--career, achievement, advancement--then a woman’s "worth" will be measured by the same standards as a man’s. By those standards, a homemaker and devoted mother does not measure up. Abortion reduces the motherhood role to a lesser status, implying that motherhood is not as important as other goals in life.

Similarly, the typical pro-choice activist is a career woman, who may or not be married and may or may not be a mother, but who considers aspects other than motherhood to be her primary role. In the event of an unwanted pregnancy, forcing her to bear the child threatens her marketability in the career market and implies that her goals are not as important as the motherhood role.

This is what the debate is all about: motherhood. Is it the supreme role of women and their major purpose in society or is it just one of many roles a woman can choose? Virtually any woman can become a mother, but other achievements require resources the majority of pro-life women don’t have: education, experience, ambition. No wonder they would seek to devalue those things and insist that the true worth and value of a woman is in her role as a mother. They can not treat abortion as a personal choice because if society allows others to make that choice, their world view and their self-worth are threatened.

Time for a Revolution

First, let me say that I am the world's worst when it comes to following my own advice. I suck. As you read this, keep in mind that I do this crazy shit more than any other woman in the world, and I can tell you from experience--it doesn't work, it never will, every word in this blog is true gospel, golden advice. I wish it were as easy as I've tried to make it sound.

There was quite a buzz about a book by Sex in the City consultants Greg Behrendt and Liz Tuccillo. This book, He's Just Not That Into You clears up the mysteries of why men don't call, why men can't commit, why men say one thing and do another.

Turns out, men are far less complicated than we women give them credit for. We analyze and agonize over their mysterious behavior and patiently wait for them to overcome their issues so they can finally make us happy. But in fact, when you find yourself puzzling over a man's behavior, and especially if you are feeling unhappy about it, chances are it's really very simple: he's just not that into you.

As an example, these behaviors are good indicators:

He said he'd call but he hasn't. Guys know how to use the phone. When they are really into a woman, they call her. They love to pursue women, it's what they live for. If they're not pursuing, it's because they're not into it (you).

He flirts and even says he'd like to go out with you but he hasn't asked you out. See above. Guys understand the protocol. They know how to ask a woman out. If he's not doing it, it's because he doesn't want to. Not because he's shy or afraid you'll turn him down or because he's busy or because he has issues.

He goes days (weeks?) without calling or seeing you. If he can do this, he's not into you. When a guy is into a woman, he wants to see her. Very muchly.

He seemed to have a great time on the first date and even said he'd like to see you again, but then he never calls you again. If that first date really did knock his socks off, he'd be picking up the phone and trying to hook up with you again as soon as possible. He didn't lose your number.

He's not dating anyone else and you date regularly, but he doesn't want a "girlfriend" right now. If he was into you, he'd want you to be his girlfriend and he'd want everyone to know it. He'd want you all to himself. If he's saying this, it means you're convenient, but he's not that into you.

He takes you out, has a great time, but never wants to take it to the next level and have sex. Do you think you could keep him from trying to have sex with you if he was into you? I think not. If he doesn't want to bone you, he's just not into you.

And here are some excuses we women make for these behaviors:

He's very busy. He travels. He has a lot going on in his life. No amount of busy-ness would keep him from calling/seeing you if he wanted to. Most hotels these days have telephones right there in the room and if he's into you, he will use one to call you because he will want to make sure that he is on your mind as much as you are on his.

He's afraid of intimacy or commitment. Just got out of a bad divorce or break-up. Not ready for anything heavy yet. Just not ready for anything heavy with you, and never will be. If he's into you, no amount of fear will keep him away.

He doesn't want to ruin our friendship with a heavy romance. If he's into you, he would care a lot more about having you than about possibly losing your friendship. This is a guy we're talking about. Do you really think friendship would be more important to him than having hot monkey sex with the woman he's into?

The list of behaviors and excuses are so common, if you've been dating you've either used them or made them yourself.

Men are doing this stuff so much, we consider it normal!

Why is that? Where did they get the idea that rudeness is acceptable in a dating relationship? We taught them, of course!

Since men like to date younger women, the older a woman gets, the less likely she is to meet that elligible man who will treat her like a queen. And the competition among women out there is fiersome indeed. It's no wonder we settle for less than we deserve and make excuses for their bad behavior, when the only alternative seems to be resigning ourselves to a lifetime of sleeping alone and dinners for one. Who could blame us for cutting men some slack and praying we really are important to them even when they're making it clear that we are not?

But ladies, we have to stop it. No foolin. Not only are we collectively damaging our self-esteem by tolerating less love and respect than we deserve but we're creating a nation of lazy, insensitive, inconsiderate bastards who never learn what it means to cherish and value a woman, or even to respect her or consider her feelings.

How do we fix this? Well we stop letting them off the hook. No excuses. Make it clear, you expect him to treat you like a man treats a woman when he's really into her. Until such time that he discovers that he's not. And then he's free to go, provided he doesn't just disappear over the horizon without a word of explanation. That's just rude. If he's rude to you--not calling when he says he will, breaking dates, expecting you to give him sex with no commitment--then hit the delete button and do not take his calls. Even if you saw him treat someone else this way and then he comes sniffing around wanting to spark up with you, tell him you don't like his dating etiquette and do not take his calls. Even if he's cute. Even if he's really nice sometimes and you just "know" that deep down inside he's really into you but just doesn't realize it yet or is too busy or afraid to express it.

If this happens to enough men enough times, they will change. Recall a time, not long ago, when casual sex was not as easy to get as it is today. Didn't men behave more honorably toward women in the dating world? As long as men can get what they want from women without putting forth the effort to behave, no effort is exactly what we'll get.

This doesn't mean we have to be inflexible, ungracious bitches with bad attitudes. Certainly there are times when a man can't call or when a date has to be broken. But be honest with yourself. You can tell the difference between a man who truly regrets his inability to see or speak to you and one who actually doesn't give a shit. Start insisting that they either give a shit or mosey on down the road.

I find myself Gracie-tagged

And I am happy to oblige. Ten random "me" things you may not have known (and probably don't care).

 

1) I was conceived at a frat party at Oklahoma State University. Father unknown, teenaged hippy mother ran away to Haight Ashbury to smoke pot in the streets and sing cool Bob Dylan songs. At the time of my birth, she was tripping on acid. I don't believe it has had any effect on me, though. (shut up!)

2) I was subsequently adopted by her parents, my grandparents, making them my parents and her my sister. So all my nephews and neices are really my cousins and my brothers and sisters are really my uncles and aunts. Except my little brother Adam, he is my biological half brother, except by adoption he's my nephew because his mom, who is my real mom, is my sister now.

3) I never place my purse on the floor. I cringe when I see others do it. This is my only true superstition, and it began one Thanksgiving when I visited my sister Alice down in Baton Rouge. She married a coon-ass, whose family are bona-fide French-speaking Cajuns. They gotta lotta Creole voodoo beliefs and such down there, yeah, and my brother-in-law's grandma noticed me setting my purse down on the floor. "Don't put your purse on the floor, no child. You lose your money." Well we all laughed and I ignored her. One week later, I left my purse hanging on the chair in a restaurant and when I returned for it, it was $70 lighter. Now, coincidence maybe, but it got my attention. I had never had anything ever before in my life stolen from me, never lost so much money all at once before in my life. Regardless of whether I believe in it or not, this superstition has a hold of me and I cannot bring myself to put my purse on the floor. You do it if you want, but you've been warned. Now that you know about it, it'll get a hold of you too. Count your money.

4) Two out of three of my sons are color blind. They have different dads so I must be the carrier of the defective gene that causes color blindness. (The reason color blindness is almost exclusively a male defect is because it lives on the X chromosome. A male type person only has to have one color blind gene on his X chromosome while a female type person must inherit the color blind gene on BOTH of her X chromosomes in order to exhibit the trait. If she has only one color blind X chromosome, then she's a carrier (like me) and can pass it on to her children.)

5) I used to play the clarinet in marching band until I fell out of a carnival ride at the fair and broke my leg.

6) This was my first love:

I still think he's very hot, though he's all grown up now. My god, he has grown up. I guess that means I have too.

7) I've never had sex in public (can you believe that?? I can't. As progressive and uninhibited as I am, one would be surprised at this, no?)

8) I made out with a rock star once (not gonna tell you which one). He was not that good of a kisser actually. I also briefly dated a professional wrestler.

9) I've owned two motorcycles, a Ninja and a Harley. Two very different rides, but I loved them both.

10) I don't do well emotionally when it's cloudy or rainy for more than three days in a row. Almost to the point after a week of it that I can't function and definitely my mood makes me unfit for human company. I think this is probably pretty common; I only mention it because I've never heard anybody describe it the way I actually feel it. After too many cloudy days, I begin to feel…stepped on. Squashed. Suffocated. With an underlying sense of panic and a desire to flee (flee what, I don't know). I have a tendency toward impulse spending all the time, but during these panicky, stepped on, jesus-help-me-I-need-sunshine periods, I'm a lot worse—I spend money trying to escape (flee) and feel better. The thing is, it actually works.

Male Nudity on Television: I Wish I Lived in the UK

Nudity in television, movies and theatre productions is quite common, even in the United States. But only recently are males presented fully nude on a frequency that could come close to females. This is undoubtedly a result of more women being in control of production.

Television in Europe is more sexually progressive than in America--yeah, I know. Try to contain your shock and amazement. While U.S. television and film focus upon and glorify violence, European productions are slanted more towards sexuality and romance. Here in the land of Yankee Doodle, we like our penises disguised as pistols.

The U.K.'s Naked Elvis

"Naked Elvis" is a trivia game show that airs in the early morning hours in the U.K. It features a gorgeous female emcee and contestant panels that are often three women against three men, and played live in front of a mixed-gender viewing audience. The show features one score keeper, which is a different guy each show dressed with a campy Elvis wig, sideburns and sunglasses (no doubt to also hide his identity). During the game, points are scored for correct answers to trivia questions which result in the Elvis being required to remove an article of clothing. Can you believe it? Strip Jeopardy! The game progresses until he is left with just his briefs, at which time the next score requires him to remove them as well.

The camera does not blush at showing him pulling down his jockies and revealing his baby-maker on national television, with the contestants and audience cheering. The lovely emcee will often look at his manly equipment and make a funny comment, as happened in one show when the guy had an incredibly small penis and she made a joke about its size, resulting in hilarious laughter from the audience and contestants.

In all episodes, once stripped, Elvis remains completely naked for the duration of the show with him doing antics or standing facing the camera. The show is directed, produced and staffed predominantly by women. Its target audience is clearly the heterosexual female crowd.

Something for the Weekend

Another British program on free TV, "Something for the Weekend" again features a beautiful hostess, Denise van Outen, in a game show. With a woman at the helm, it often targets exposing the men. One feature of the program is "Private Dicks," in which five stage props looking sort of like file cabinets appear on stage. Behind each is a completely naked man. During the feature the hostess lowers the file cabinet drawer, exposing each man one-by-one from the knees to his waist, prominently displaying his frank-and-beans. The five drawers are eventually lowered until all five are dangling for the audience to view and compare. The female contestants are challenged to identify a certain guy by looking only at the private parts.

The show has been the target of some criticism, if you can imagine that. These critics are upset that while the ding-dongs are dangling on display, the hostess draws the attention of the camera and the audience to the various genitals and makes jokes about the size of the penis or balls, which then brings much laughter from the other women. These male critics, upset that men are displayed completely naked whereas women are never unclothed, claim that this show intentionally strips men naked to humiliate them in front of women.

These men are understandably upset, for men's television and film have always shown the utmost respect for women, always careful to present women as people and not objects or body parts. One would be hard-pressed to name a single men's television show or movie in which women were undressed while men remained fully clothed, or in which the display of female physical attributes for evaluation and comparison is the primary focus.

And for that matter, men should be flattered that we want to look at their ding-dongs anyway. Right?  Isn't that what we've been told for decades: "If we enjoy looking at your parts, it just proves that you have value! You have worth! If your parts are worthy of our attention, you're important!"

I edited an interesting manuscript recently, a book by a man who was falsely accused of being a pedophile, charged with the crime, imprisoned, and then finally exonerated and released. It turns out that he did some research on the internet, looking for information about a certain performance enhancement drug (viagra), which caused cookies to be saved on his computer, resulting in pop-up messages, porn, spam, whipped cream, and various other evil things to appear on his computer. We've all seen them—you click on one web site and suddenly you're plagued with 47 ad windows for porn sites, and sometimes it's a booger to get rid of the clever little virus or worm that causes them.

Yeah, so this guy got a porn worm on his computer because he suffered from erectile dysfunction and sought relief from the magical World Wide Web, where no one would know of his embarrassing condition except himself and his wife. Somehow, the porn worm led to some kind of pedophile web site, which installed something on his computer, snatched his credit card information and used it to finance another web site for the entertainment of pedophiles around the world.

The pedo-watchdogs caught this and tracked it back to his computer, and he was arrested and charged. It took some time for the police to examine his computer and determine that he was telling the truth—he didn't do it, his identity was stolen.

In the meantime, he was jailed. And as we have all heard, the hard, evil men you find in jail are especially hard and evil when it comes to pedophiles and child molesters. Death threats resulted in this man being put into solitary confinement for his own safety. In the community, he lost the faith and respect of virtually everyone who knew him. Kicked off the board, kicked out of his church, and his wife came close to leaving him. Very little support from friends or family. After all, if someone thinks he's a pedophile…well who wants to be the one standing by and giving him support if it turns out to be true, right?

I found this very interesting. Pedophiles are so vilified in our society that people are loathe to afford them any sense of decency or respect. So horrified are we by a criminal whose victims are children that we withhold decency and respect from one just upon the accusation because giving undeserved respect if he's guilty would be worse than persecuting him unfairly if he's innocent.

I remark on this not out of any sympathy for pedophiles--although I could make a case for them deserving sympathy of some kind for they, most of all, surely wish even more than we, that they did not have this thing in them, this thing that makes them do this, makes them hated and mistrusted and attacked and shut out—who would choose to be a pedophile if, indeed, he had a choice in the matter? Their behavior may be wrong and indefensible, but the root cause of their behavior, their drives and urges, is beyond their control. These people are probably not evil, they simply lack the emotional tools to either control their urges or to recognize that their behavior violates and causes harm to another person and is therefore wrong.

And no, it is not MORE wrong because the victims are children. Contrary to popular belief, the rights of children are no more important than anyone else's. It has only been in the last half a century or so (compared to many thousands of years of history) in which children have been placed upon a pedestal, as though their value and worth are superior to those of adults, as though children's needs are more important and always supersede those of grown-ups. Well that's a debate for another day.

The point I wanted to make: Rapists commit essentially the same crime as child molesters—they force themselves sexually onto another person who is weaker and unable to defend, refuse, or resist—yet suffer no such persecution in our society. First of all, they're given the benefit of the doubt—"innocent until proven guilty," unlike pedophiles and child molesters. You see, when a man is accused of raping a woman, it is thought to be likely that the woman, being vindictive, had some motivation, possibly, for making this false accusation, or that she was somehow confused about what actually happened to her and that it wasn't really rape after all, or that she provoked it somehow with her appearance or behavior. See, this baffles me. For some reason, children are not thought to be easily confused about what really happened, nor are they thought to be vindictive enough to create a false accusation against a grown-up in this manner. When a child says it, it must be true, he did it. Excuse me, but who could be more easily confused, especially when it comes to things of a sexual nature, than a child? And seriously, kids are not vindictive and mean when it comes to getting back at an adult they hate? Since when?

We know that children are immature and naïve, yet we don't suggest that they might actually have mistakenly accused someone of something criminally inappropriate. We know that children lie as much as adults do, yet we don't automatically consider the possibility that they might be lying, unlike rape victims. If a woman has any motivation to lie about being raped…wouldn't a child have the same potential motivation to lie about it as well? We know that children are sexual creatures, as all humans are, yet we would not dream of accusing a child of intentionally trying to provoke or arouse a man just to see what might happen, resulting in an unfortunate sexual incident that the child actually brought upon himself.

So why do we do this shit to WOMEN?? Why are grown women less credible than children when it comes to accusations made about the violation of our own bodies?

I dunno where I'm going with this; no further, I guess. Just thought I'd share a little bit of the disturbance that has fluttered through my mind lately as I'm drenched in editing projects and as much tennis as I can stand.

By the way, guys, I did not sell the Xfire. I couldn't part with her. I advertised Amy in the paper, but then I found myself making excuses every time someone called…"Oh, you want to come and see the car…well, you know, today's not really good for me…why don't you call back tomorrow and we'll see about showing you the car." Eventually I realized, I'm simply not getting rid of my car. Some other solution must be found. Think I'm just gonna buy a SUV.

In Which I Express Generalized Awe Inspired by my Own Brilliance

Wild nights! Wild nights!
Were I with thee,
Wild nights should be
Our luxury!

Futile the winds
To a heart in port,
Done with the compass,
Done with the chart.

Rowing in Eden!
Ah! the sea!
Might I but moor
To-night in thee!

Have you ever experienced a prolonged period of profound personal perception?

Like, for a whole year you just keep figuring things out, each insight building on the last, each epiphany more remarkable, until you realize one day how totally fucking brilliant you are and you wonder why no one has knocked down your door insisting that you accept a Nobel prize and a handful of other awards in recognition of your genius?

This is the kind of year I've had. Wow. Seriously figured some shit out. Of course, the problem with blinding flashes of comprehension at my age is that it throws in such sharp contrast the previous 3.5 decades of my life during which I was verifiably NOT brilliant. Makes me wonder what inner mysteries are yet to be unraveled that will cause me to reflect on myself now, in all my sharp-witted glory, to realize that what feels like Superman's X-ray vision is really the squinty myopic stare of, say, Mr. McGoo instead.

Well, it's no matter because today I feel like I have unlocked the secrets of the universe, if you will pardon a little hyperbole.

No, of course I will not share my epiphanies with you; you may laugh and say, "Well, duh!" thereby causing harm to my fragile ego. Just celebrate with me as I bask in the unfamiliar glow of understanding. At last.

As I went down the hill along the wall
There was a gate I had leaned at for the view
And had just turned from when I first saw you
As you came up the hill. We met. But all
We did that day was mingle great and small
Footprints in summer dust as if we drew
The figure of our being less than two
But more than one as yet. Your parasol
Pointed the decimal off with one deep thrust.
And all the time we talked you seemed to see
Something down there to smile at in the dust.
(Oh, it was without prejudice to me!)
Afterward I went past what you had passed
Before we met and you what I had passed.

"Meeting and Passing" by Robert Frost

I am about to run amuck...

This is not my usual blog, y'all, I'm sorry. I just have to rant and bitch a little bit today. You know, if I kept it in all the time, I'd swell up like a bullfrog and explode. We wouldn't want that, now would we?

Every week I get quite a number of emails, either from strangers or from people on my friends list, emails of a particular kind that are pushing me to the limit of my tolerance. What kind of email is it, you ask, that would test the infinite patience of the most gracious and kind Tess? Obviously, I intend to tell you, just now.

An example of the kind of email I mean is like this: "Hey Tess, Are you having a good day? How was your weekend?" or sometimes it's "How are you today?" Toward the end of the week, it's "Hi Tess, Do you have any fun plans for the weekend?" This being the entire text of the email, in full. Putting me in the position of either ignoring the email, which is not in my nature as I don't like to be rude, or responding with answers to the mind-numbingly dull questions as briefly as possible, which again is rude and not my usual style, or responding with a gracious, detailed, conversational response complete with reciprocal questions regarding the well-being of the other person and the events of their weekend past or future.

I'm flattered and I do understand that these people send me these emails because they want to stay in touch, they want to know me, they want to chat with me. Thank you, that's very sweet. But if you don't have anything interesting to say to me, please don't expect me to say anything interesting back in response to your email! Don't put the burden on me to be polite and stimulating and creative and charming, all on my own! If your email is no more charming than "Hi, how was your weekend? How are you doing today?"--what do you want from me??

And if you're a man hoping to capture my attention and spark up a little sump'n-sump'n with me via the internet, you must know you gotta try way harder than "Got any fun plans for the weekend?"

One would think that receiving a bland response such as "I'm fine, thanks. No fun plans. Take care." would discourage a person from writing again. Yet, I get the same email week after week from some! The following cycle repeated, week after week:

"Hi, how are you? Did you do anything fun this weekend?" "Hi, I'm fine. No I didn't do anything fun." "Hey Tess, how's it going?" "Hi, it's going fine." "Hi, are you having a good day? Do you have anything fun planned for this weekend?" "Hello, I'm having a good day. I don't have much planned for the weekend." "Hey, Tess, how are you?" "Hi, I'm fine." "Hi Tess, how was your weekend?" "Hello, my weekend was fine."

Does that not make you want to commit an atrocious crime? Does that not numb your mind with boredom to the point of having your brains melt and run out your ears?? Then why do we keep doing it, week after week?

If you want to send me a friendly email and tell me about your weekend, fine. I'll read it and if something inspires me to have a conversation, then perhaps we will correspond back and forth for a bit about what you said. Perhaps I will be inspired to share something of my own with you. Heck, it's even remotely possible, like maybe a fraction of a percentage point possible chance, that we might hit it off so well that I will begin foaming at the mouth and having convulsions over you and threaten to shave my head if you don't meet me right away.

But if you approach me with mundane, boring, generic, chitty-chat questions, please expect to be ignored. I'm thinking of putting together a form letter response, what do you think of this:

"Hi, I'm suicidal today, thanks for asking. I had a fun weekend, swallowed a live cricket. I plan on doing that again this weekend, if I have time. Thanks, /tess."

Living well is the best revenge

Living life as art requires a readiness to forgive. I do not mean that you should suffer fools gladly, but rather remember your own shortcomings, and when you encounter another with flaws, don't be eager to righteously seal yourself away from the offender forever. Take a few breaths and imagine yourself having just committed the action which has set you at odds. --Maya Angelou

Is there some special person who has earned your wrath? God forbid, is there more than one? This person has done something so horrible, so unthinkably wrong, that you could never bring yourself to forgive. Am I right?

But what if you did?

Imagine it for a moment, what if everyone somehow found a way to forgive their most heinous offendors. How many brutal, hostile divorces would suddenly become more bearable for everyone involved? How many self-destructive behaviors would be stopped in their tracks, replaced by growth and deeper insight into the workings of our own species? How many opportunities would suddenly present themselves where before there was only a brick wall?

"Ah, that's very well for others," you say. "But you don't understand. What he did (she did, they did, I did, etc.). It was horrible and simply unforgivable."

Is it? Who decides what's forgivable or not? You, of course, since you are the one who will not forgive. What do you gain by not forgiving? Does it feel good? Does it right the wrong done to you? Probably not. Most likely you imagine that refusing to forgive makes you safer from being hurt again in that way or by that same person. But forgiveness need not make you vulnerable.

Forgiveness often seems both undesirable and impossible. It's undesirable because we imagine ourselves weaker when we forgive. Foolish. We imagine that forgiving means accepting the behavior or giving permission for it to happen again. In reality, it means neither.
Impossible because we imagine forgiveness to be a simple, painless and gracious decision. We imagine a moment of forgiveness, when in reality, forgiveness is a process. Sometimes it takes a lifetime. It's more accurate sometimes to think of forgiving as a percentage instead of a one-step decision. We can say "I am about 40% forgiving now." and keep working toward a goal in the upper 90's if we truly think that 100% forgiveness is impossible.

We also tend to think of forgiveness as something we give to another person, like a gift, the key idea being whether they "deserve" to be forgiven or not. To give this person that which they have not earned--well, it just doesn't seem right. But you don't have to give your forgiveness away, you keep it for yourself. It can be a secret if you want. The evil person need never even know he's been forgiven. But do let it change your perceptions and your attitudes. Let it improve your own behavior and you'll be surprised at how much better it feels.

I challenge you to post a comment right now and tell me the most horrible thing someone has ever done to you. Or list several. And then tell me why you cannot or should not forgive. Whatever the reason, it will be a shortcoming in your character that prevents you from doing so and not a measure of the pain and suffering caused by the other person's behavior.

I am approximately 50% forgiving of the most horrible thing that was ever done to me. And trust me, it was bad. At some point I realized it was hurting me more to carry the grudge and seethe in righteous indignation than if I simply stop doing that and pretend that this person is no more significant to me than any other stranger on the street. I'm not quite there yet, but my goal is to feel nothing toward this person.

I really don't care whether this person deserves to be forgiven. I do this for me. Because I want to be happy. Not angry, or righteous, or vindicated, or justified, or bitter. Just happy, which I can't have without peace, which I can't have without forgiving.

Red on the head...

“Hey, Red!”

And the man delivering this line always thinks he has said something very clever, perhaps something I have never heard before. “Are you a natural redhead?” With a pointed look at my crotch. “Does the carpet match the drapes?”

Which is the line most guaranteed to deny the speaker of the privilege of EVER getting anywhere near the carpet.

When I was a kid, I often heard this crude chant from other children: “Red on the head like the dick on a dog!”

Charming, huh.

And thus I knew from an early age that there was something unique about the color of my hair. Strangers would often ask me, “Where did you get your red hair?” Even at the age of four I remember thinking, “Duh! Same place you got your hair! It just grew there.”

Today I share with you some interesting folklore about redheads.

“Redheads are deemed to be the emotional slaves of our colouring as no other group," writes redhead Nicola Tyrer in the Daily Telegraph; “short temper and sexual fieriness are attributed to them.”

Percentages of redheads in different countries range from single digits to a fraction of 1 percent -- a recent estimate for France is 0.03 percent of people. (A 1977 estimate for North America is 4 per cent.) Redheads generally are more numerous in northern latitudes, but also turn up among Hungarians, Egyptians, Israelis and certain Nigerian tribes.
"In Denmark it is an honour to have a redheaded child. In Corsica, if you pass one in the street you spit and turn around. In Poland, if you pass three redheads you'll win the state lottery," claims Sylvia Stevez, the Parisian founder of Association Francaise des Rousses.

There are two kinds of redhead, says Mary Spillane, managing director of British image consultants Colour Me Beautiful. There's "the autumn type with hazel eyes," and the Celtic type with translucent skin, light eyes and carrot top -- leprechaun redness that people have trouble with."
Redheads have always been thought untrustworthy. As a 17th-century Frenchman observed, "Judas, it is said, was red-haired."
Superstitions: red hair is unlucky, yet it's lucky to rub your hand on a redhead's head; bees sting redheads more readily. The Egyptians regarded the colour as so unlucky that they had a ceremony in which they burned red-headed maidens alive to wipe out the tint, says author Claudie De Lys.

In ancient Ireland if a traveler were to happen upon a woman with red hair he must turn around and start his journey all over again.
Redheads bring bad luck to a ship, don't sail with one on board.
Redheads seem to be relatively recent in evolutionary terms, only being with us for about 20,000 years, but in that short time a a whole body of superstition has built up around them. Natural redheads are a rare breed, perhaps 5% of the global population, and historically have always been treated with prejudice and suspicion, or with amazement and awe. Fiery tresses are widely supposed to be a 'Celtic gene' as all redheads are MC1R variants that derive from European populations, and the prevalence of these alleles is highest in Celtic countries .But none of this tells us anything of the superstitions, or why we believe that redheads are fiery and hot-tempered. One answer lies in Ireland. Macha, the red war-goddess makes a vengeful appearance in the second story of Ulster, in a terrible story of humilation. This Macha placed the curse upon the men of Ulaid, for their mistreatment of her during her pregnancy. The curse was that during Ulster's hours of greatest need, the men of Ulster would suffer violent pangs like those of a woman giving birth. But Macha Mong Ruad, who also railled against the men of Ireland, was a great Queen in ancient times..... Today, the silent grasses cover the mound of Emania Macha, a little north-west of Armagh, but this ancient hill fortress played a vital and vibrant role in the fortunes and history of Ulster and indeed in the making of Ireland herself. Emain Macha was Conchobar's capital - the seat of power in Ulaid (Ulster). The dun was founded by Queen Macha the Red-Haired, the first reliably documented ruler in Irish History. Her father, Aod Ruad (Red Hugh) was one of a triumvirate with his brothers Dithorba and Cimbaoth. They had an arrangement that each would reign for seven years in turn. Stories tell of three times seven guarantees to ensure that each king handed over sovereignty at the end of his seven years - guarentees to ensure the righteousness of each king's reign so that there would be an abundance of fruit every year, that every colour of dye would be fast and that no women would die in childbirth. These guarantees were - seven druids, to scorch them with spells - seven poets, to shame them with satires - and seven champions, to wound and burn them if they didn't fulfil their obligations. Each took three turns as king, sixty-three years in all. Áed Ruad drowned before he finished his term of office and although Macha should have ruled her father's incompleted term, her two uncles opposed her. Macha led an army to war, where she killed Dithorba in battle. (Dithorba's five sons had fled to Connacht, where they plotted to overthrown Macha but she captured them in a fascinating manner.) Then with equal skill and mastery she turned her attention towards her uncle Cimbaoth, first defeating and then compelling him to formally marry her. Macha founded the city of Emain Macha, and legend tells that she marked the boundary of her hill-fortress with her brooch and forced Dithorba's sons into building the dun as slaves. Cimbaeth became the high king of Ireland, and ruled in Tara for 27 years with Macha until his death, leaving Macha in sole power. Emania Macha, her legacy, later became renowned as the fortress of the Red Branch. Was it this Macha, understandably angered with her male relatives, who inspired the myth of the fiery- tempered redhead ?

Red is the color of heat, of wine, of fever, of blood. Red is the signal of danger. It is both a welcome and a warning, and even the most civilized man feels a curiously atavistic quickening of the senses at the sight of a red-haired woman. Never mind that she may be a notorious mouse. He knows that, deep inside, she is a quivering mass of passion and fireworks -- a thrower of paperweights when displeased.

"There are more redheaded girls around than there used to be, say, six months ago. One sees them glowing like torches, raking their rosy manes with permissive fingers, basking, with a healthily narcissistic delight, in the way people look at them. Most to the point, in the way men look at them." ... Vogue, April 15, 1969

"Even plain redheads get looked at quite a lot. A really good-looking one comes through every door like a thunderclap." ... Vogue, op. cit.

"The eyes are often a smoky brown. Or the color of the ocean, from slate to marble, depending on the light and mood. The blue-eyed white-skinned redheads are like walking flags. The green-eyed redheads shake you to your soul; you are helpless in their grip. No wonder they have so often been seen as gods or demons. Or aliens, mutants, wizards or threats." ... Red Alert! By Joel Garreau, The Washington Post Company

"Of course, part of the 'problem' with redheads is that there aren't enough of them. They make up just two percent of the population. So they're pretty extraordinary. Redheads are too numerous to be ignored, too rare to be accepted." ...Grant McCracken, from his book Big Hair: A Journey Into the Transformation of Self

"While the rest of the species is descended from apes, redheads are descended from cats." -- Mark Twain

"Red-heads, in general, need more general anesthesia than the average patient in order to reach a satisfactory level of relief from the pain associated with surgery,” doctors say. I’ve also been told that redheads bleed more.

"That... drew me particularly to the flamboyant qualities of redheads. Their hair and the exotic flourish of their skin in sunlight were even redder and more visible in that blue surround. They also shared with me their sense of personal victory at having overcome this early celebrity, how... they had grown into their specialness and, by surviving, had been ennobled by it. You could say that they had been baptized by their fire and that their shared experience had formed a 'blood knot' among them." ...Joel Meyerowitz, author and photographer of Redheads. This book has a pretty good gallery of portraits, except, of course, for the fact that he has never taken my photo to include in it. Tsk.



So, parents, warn your non-red children.... tell your sons that tease little redheaded girls how badly they are going to want to date those same girls in about ten years, and how much fun the girls are going to have laughing in dude's face. And let those blonde and brunette little girls in on how difficult it will be when their boss turns out to be... you guessed it... a redhead with many, many axes to grind.

Men, Women & Marriage

I’ve been reading a lot of women’s books lately. What else is new, right? Not all of them have a feminist theme, though any book by and about women will resonate with feminist ideology, except perhaps a conservative manual written by a moral, Godly woman on how to be a good Christian wife. I don’t read those.

Lately I’ve been reading essays and journals by and about women in America. I had no idea how little I understood my own gender and our frustrated role in these changing times. We are at a crossroads, you see, for family values crusaders are preaching the gospel of the traditional nuclear family with domestic wife/mother and primary breadwinner father (the majority of families being dual-income these days, Mr. Man’s career should still be more important) and 2.3 children in the suburbs, with a Golden Retriever. This is what America needs to get “back” to if we want to solve the distressing problems we are faced with. We must work to duplicate the family dynamics of days gone by if we are to be saved.

I put “back” in quotation marks because conservatives (and most everybody) believe that in the 1950’s, the family described above was the norm. You’ve seen the old TV shows, you know the stereotype. Good wholesome families. According to Stephanie Coontz in her book The Way We Never Were, it is a myth. She also explains how good old-fashioned traditional non-divorced families will not solve America’s problems and she gives lots of excellent evidence to back up her claim.

At any rate, we are not going back, it’s not even remotely realistic to think that America might go back to a system where divorces are shameful, adversarial and hard to get, mothers quit their jobs and stay home while their children are young and gay people will stop trying to live normal happy family lives like the rest of us. Our new family structure is here to stay, and the problems women face today are caused by the state of flux that we’re in. We’re sitting here astraddle the new millennium, with one foot in the past and one shaky foot in the future, trying to meet demands and our own desires from both sides.

We want career. We think we want marriage and family. Or perhaps, it’s the other way around, depending on which day we’re asked.

The essays I’ve been reading, by women my age, all bear one striking similarity that surprised me. All these women mentioned the ideas held during childhood and adolescence about marriage and how those ideas changed when they ran smack into adulthood. It won’t surprise you, probably, that girls think about it. Obsess about it.

Perhaps it surprised me because I did not. I didn’t play with dolls. I didn’t play “House” unless I was forced to by a playmate who was “prissier” than I. I don’t remember ever thinking about weddings or whom I’d marry. I just didn’t. I was thinking about horses a lot. And reading a lot of books. At puberty, I was into teen magazines and boys, but I don’t recall thinking I’d marry one. I gave little thought to career either, for that matter. In high school I was into modeling and partying.

In my senior year I had my first serious boyfriend and the most important thing on my mind was getting out of Mama’s house and out on my own. The quickest route to that goal was to move in with my boyfriend. And my friends began to get engaged and plan their weddings. I admired their rings and their bridesmaid dresses and still gave little thought to a wedding of my own.

And then my boyfriend’s parents found out we were living together and they were mortified. Set a date, they said, or they’d stop paying the bills and his college tuition. And honestly, it seems that was the first time I contemplated the idea of getting married.

I must have been somewhat keen on the idea. I mean, after all, I did it. Beautiful wedding, and I got to be the star. But never did I feel the trembling excitement I sense in other women when they think about nuptials. Of course, had I then the wisdom I possess now, not a chance I would have married, at least not then. If nothing else, I wish I’d realized at the time we were setting a dangerous precedent in allowing his parents to use money to manipulate private matters that were none of their business.

When I edit children’s books, especially those for girls, I’m hypersensitive to the way “happily ever after” is presented. I think (hope) we’re past an age when marrying the Prince represents the best ever outcome every girl should dream of. I like it when the girl runs off with some pirates or joins a circus instead. I like it when she says, “Stand back, I got it,” instead of being rescued.

I came across an interesting statistic today: the largest population suffering from depression are unmarried men, with married women a close second. Isn’t that funny? Being single depresses men while being married has the same effect on women. Can’t say I’m surprised.

According to Bastard on the Couch (which, contrary to the first paragraph above, is a collection of essays by and about men), it’s now men more than women who feel a sense of panic when they have not married and produced children by the time they’re middle-aged. In my experience, I find this to be true. For one thing, fewer women have waited that long. Most middle aged women have already been there, done that. But those who have not married by the time they’re 40, I think they’re less freaked out by it than women were 20 years ago in the same situation. They may express a twinge of regret, but they’re proud of their careers and their independence. They like their lives.

Meanwhile, the middle-aged, never-married men I’ve met do seem rather…shocked to find themselves still single and childless at that age. Shocked and not really sure what to do about it. I mean, what can you do to change a lifetime habit of avoiding the kind of meaningful, intense relationship that leads to marriage?

Sometimes men are thought to avoid marriage because they want the rockstar lifestyle they think they could have "someday" if they get buff enough or successful enough--dating multiple beautiful nymphomaniacs, having threesomes, being sexually adored and worshipped by a whole herd of gorgeous ladies in sexy lingerie. And then, it's also thought that they can't stand the idea of being tied down, restricted, noosed, put on a leash, confined to one piece of ass for the rest of their lives. Not to mention that they value their freedom and independence, reluctant to trade the luxury of coming and going as they please, leaving a half-empty cereal bowl on the coffee table until it has long since turned gross, and playing video games or watching sports for 48 straight hours, for the dubious pleasure of considering someone else's needs, checking in and asking permission to go out, and hearing someone bitch-bitch-bitch at them almost daily.

Rod and I talked about this at length last night, he being one of those middle-aged never-married-no-kids who seems a little confused as to why he never got himself a ball and chain. I think an unmarried man in his late 20's or early-mid 30's is likely to have the reservations described above about marriage, but as he matures his views on marriage change. He begins to realize he's not going to get the rockstar lifestyle, or even if he does get a taste of it, he discovers it's fun for a while but not fulfilling, and he sees his married friends or siblings and perhaps envies them the companionship they enjoy. Maybe he realizes that cleaning up after himself or limiting his mindless recreational activities to just a few reasonable hours on the weekend is really a good idea after all and it might be nice to have someone around to remind him. Maybe checking in with someone or asking permission to go out is not so terrible if the reason is because they love you, care about where you are and when you'll be home, and miss you when you're gone. I think somewhere about the age of 33 a man starts to think the benefits of marriage might make it worth the restriction.

So then what happens? Well some men then get married, of course. But what about the ones who've changed their minds about marriage and gradually decided yeah, they'd like to do that but then they go ahead and stay single for another decade and a half? Why them? That's a little more difficult for me to understand, and Rod could only say that he kept waiting for the "right one" and she never seemed to come along.

Come on, in fifteen years, surely he's met at least one woman who could be the right one. My god, how perfect does a woman have to be to qualify for the coveted (thankless) role as his wife? I think in this case, a man sometimes gets caught in a cycle of meeting her, loving her, considering her, maybe coming close to choosing her, but then getting freaked out by the thought of being "stuck" with her three years from now when the more perfect one comes along.

I dunno. When you choose a life partner at the age of 20, sure, you're probably not choosing someone you'll enjoy being stuck with. But by the time you're 40, you're not likely to choose someone you'll regret sharing your life with. You just have to grab your balls and jump, man. Don't be scared.

Secrets of Western Sex Magick

For the first third of this book I had a hard time relating to the text. For example, I'm really uncomfortable with the assertion that I must break down the barriers of my own sexual inhibitions before I can truly become enlightened and powerful as a sex magician. What this means is that if there is some sexual act that I would not perform, such as necrophilia, then that is the very act I must perform or at least be open to in order to achieve Nirvana.

Well excuse me, but maybe I was not meant to be a sex magician if my assignment is to do the shit that makes me most uncomfortable and learn to like it. I mean, sure, having sex with dead people technically doesn't harm anybody, so why should it be wrong? Okay, maybe it's not wrong, but it's still gross and I'm not doing it.

So, having resolved my necrophilia issues, and with inhibitions and barriers firmly in place, I carried on, cringing a little at the ultra-serious tone. This is sex, for gods sake, it's supposed to be fun!

Fortunately, the section on using mantras to delay orgasm made me smile (if you can picture yourself or your partner determinedly muttering Om, Hram, Hrim, Hrum, Om, Mani Padme Hum to avoid blowing a nut, you'll understand why). The ice was further broken when I encountered instructions complete with delightful little drawings on how to wear a loin cloth. Now that I was laughing out loud, I figured the best way to get along with this book was to avoid taking it too seriously.

The text touches on a variety of sexual and magical topics but without covering any in great detail. Each chapter is rather short, so easy to skip over or rush through the parts that give you the heebies. The exercises are designed to be done alone or with a partner of either sex, and they are quite tempting to try.

Though the author takes the subject matter much more seriously than I was able to do, he does have a sense of humour. In spite of being initially creeped out, I was won over with this line: "No man with real experience of women, uncolored by his own inferiority feelings, will deny the immense active sexual power of women."

I'm not merkin this up!

Dutch told me something very interesting the other day. In India, he said, marriages are still arranged and women are still expected to be virgins, though more and more women are having premarital sex. So a surgical process, revirgination, is commonly done to allow women their sexual freedom yet still enabling them to fulfill their culture's patriarchal expectation.

I find the idea quite fascinating, so I googled it. Turns out, it's a hot trend here in the US as well.

"Since many women have already lost their virginity, they are turning to a new form of plastic surgery to get it back. Information on hymen repair, vaginal tightening, designer vagina and other plastic surgery."

Designer vagina?

"Not being a virgin does not come as a surprise anymore these days. Many women lose their virginities at an early age, more so in this modern world of ours. Virginity is, in some corners of society, still considered a precious possession. Wouldn't it be nice if women could somehow reclaim what they have lost?"
Well this is an interesting idea. When a woman loses her virginity, what has she lost and why would she seek to get it back? Of course, this surgery addresses what she has physically lost, her hymen, along with that super-special tight-as-a-virgin pussy men desire. When the hymen is gone, it's not likely the woman ever misses it. Seems to me, this surgery is designed to replace what the man has lost, not the woman. "Like a virgin...When Jeanette Yarborough decided to give her husband a gift for their seventeenth wedding anniversary she wanted it to be special. Really special. She gave him something much more personal and painful. Her virginity. Well, sort of Mrs Yarborough paid $5,000 to a cosmetic surgeon to stitch her hymen back together so she could lose her virginity all over again and her husband would have that thrilling conquest at the grand age of 40."
I see. So yes, the women who seek this (expensive) surgical alteration of their bodies in this country do so in order to give something to a man, not to get something for themselves. Okay, I'm all about giving something to my man, but seriously. Five thousand dollars for a painful operation that will give him a one-time thrilling conquest? He pops that cherry in ten seconds, and then I'm back to being an unexciting nonvirgin again. "Gee, thanks honey! That was money well spent." I dont think so.
Here's something else that hooked my brain today. This one came from my friend Emily. She's so cool. Ever heard of a merkin? Its a pubic hair wig.

Seriously, yeah.

A wig for a womans hoo-hah. I had to google that and see whats up. Turns out, merkins were quite fashionable in the 1600's. They used to shave off all the pubic hair as a cure for syphillis, so the well-to-do used merkins to restore their natural hirsute nether regions to full glory. Another source said they treated syphilis with mercury, which caused baldness. Also, a merkin would cover up any sores prostitutes may have obtained in the line of duty.

Another common problem was lice. One way of dealing with that was to shave all the hair off your body. Merkins caught on first among the shadier members of society, but eventually became quite respectable.

Fascinating, huh? I want to see one. I'm left with the nagging question: who's a merkin supposed to fool? By the time you get to the level of intimacy where somebody is going to see whether you have pubic hair or not, your range of observation, as we might say, is such that a wig is not going to make for a very convincing masquerade. Turns out, the Internet provides an answer, whatever the question: During the time period when merkins were popular, the degree of intimacy among the upper class was low even during sex.

I shudder to think what that means. Apparently, you had your valet do it for you.

Why Are Men the Way They Are? The world may never know...

Rarely have I read anything that annoys me as much as Why Men Are The Way They Are by Warren Farrell. The problem is not that I disagreed with so many of his ideas. My frustration was that he provided just enough insight to make me want to keep reading instead of throwing the book in the garbage where it belongs.

Published twenty years ago, I understand that Farrell’s unflattering generalizations about women may be a reflection of the way things were and not how they are. But I still find it difficult to believe that women were so drastically different in 1986 than I know them to be today.

The answer to the question posed in the title, according to Dr. Farrell, is: men are the way they are because women are selfish, lazy gold-diggers who manipulate men sexually to achieve financial security.

By studying cartoons and advertisements in popular magazines, Farrel concludes that a woman’s primary fantasy is commitment because she wants financial security and success provided to her by a man instead of achieving it for herself. Huh? I am and have always been more successful in my own right than either of my husbands. Speaking for myself, financial security is not and has never been my primary fantasy. I don’t need or want a man to provide financial security. Few of my female friends express an interest in getting married so they can stop working.

A man’s primary fantasy is to have a variety of beautiful women to have sex with. He achieves success to acquire his primary fantasy. Women are taught to hint at sexual fulfillment, give a taste, generate excitement and anticipation, then pull back in order to achieve their primary fantasy: commitment.

Commitment, being the intended result and goal for women, by its very nature requires men to give up their primary fantasy: having sex with lots of beautiful women. No wonder men duck and dodge! It also explains my observation that men have a harder time being faithful than women do.

Farrell suggests that women should be equally responsible for initiating contact, calling, making plans, and picking up the dinner tab. He rightly points out that most men will refuse to allow her to pay for dinner, so he suggests that the woman should say “If you don’t let me pay, I’ll remain celibate.” So. Not only should a woman buy him dinner, but she should expect to have sex with him and she should use the promise of having sex with him to manipulate him into letting her buy him dinner.

By suggesting that women should assume more responsibility in dating and relationships (it being unfair that men alone assume the risk of rejection and the expectation that he’ll be the financial provider, women should be approaching men, calling, asking them out, paying for dinners and vacations, even providing financial support after marriage) Farrell misses some very important Mars/Venus dynamics at play. Men are fulfilled when they feel useful. They enjoy being needed. Women are fulfilled when they are cared for. When a woman approaches a man, asks him out, and pays for dinner, neither of them achieves maximum fulfillment from the dynamic. I want a man to buy me dinner, not because I can’t afford it or I’m too cheap to spend my money on him, but because I feel valued when he does things for me. He feels valued when I appreciate what he does for me. He is useful and needed, I am cared for. If I buy him dinner, he doesn’t feel valued as I would, he feels that he’s missed an opportunity to show me how valuable and useful he is. It ruins the dynamic of an early relationship.

As I read, I kept wondering what experiences led this man to have such contempt for women.

And then he went too far, suggesting that domestic violence and abuse in relationships occur equally with women as perpetrators and men as victims. Statistics showing otherwise can be dismissed because they reflect only reported incidents of violence. Male victims do not report it. Oh my, hang on just a minute. Having studied this issue quite thoroughly and with an intense personal perspective on it, I am amazed that the man presents such a load of crap with a straight face. I won’t belabor the point too much, but let’s examine the idea a little bit.

Certainly some women have violent emotional outbursts where they may slap or shove a man. I have never heard of a situation in which a woman choked a man, beat him, raped him, knocked him unconscious or broke his bones. I doubt that it happens very often because most men have the physical strength to prevent her from causing serious injury. When a woman is violent toward a man, she is not attempting to control or intimidate him. She knows that she doesn’t have the physical size or strength to do this. When a woman strikes a man, she is saying “You bastard, you have hurt me and made me so angry that I want to hurt you.” For control and intimidation, she will use other weapons: she will be a passive-aggressive bitch.

For men, however, physical violence is a means to control and intimidate her, and it works. When a man hits a woman, he is not saying “You hurt me and so I want to hurt you.” He’s saying “I want to hurt you so that you will---(listen, stop doing whatever it is that you’re doing, be afraid of me, make me happy, whatever).” Control, in other words. Clearly, men’s violence against women is not the same thing as women’s violence against men. Not only is it done for different purposes, but the two genders have unequal physical abilities to injure the other or to protect themselves from the other. Men’s violence is clearly more threatening. If, as Farrell indicates, male victims are just as common as female victims but less known because men hide it rather than report it, what does it say about the injuries inflicted by female violence against men? Pretty easy to hide, I would imagine. A slapped face, a shove, a clawmark on the arm. Compare that to the injuries you have seen on women inflicted by men. A lot more severe and difficult to hide, huh? How can this man suggest that women’s violence against men is just as common as the reverse or that women’s violence is anything like the same as men’s violence?

Finally, the point at which my head actually exploded was this:

For men the gap between desire and fulfillment creates a pressure cooker. And the man’s role of taking initiaves and receiving rejection puts an aggressive anger (as opposed to her passive anger) in his pressure cooker. If there is no outlet, the ultimate explosion can be violence, one form of which can be rape.

Do I read this correctly to say that rape is a natural and expected result of men’s frustrated desires (caused by women’s conscious prick-teasing manipulations)? He does not go so far as to say that rape is an acceptable expression of a man's frustration when a his pressure cooker gets heated up, but nor does he suggest in any way that it’s not acceptable! The implication is that women are responsible for ensuring their safety by being mindful of a man’s inability to handle rejection.

While I came away from this read with a bit more understanding of why men are the way they are, more questions arose in my mind about why the author is the way he is.