Archive for the ‘Women’ Category
In more affluent demographics, female trainers are the most sought after commodities in the human food chain, particularly for middle-aged men.
Why wouldn’t they be?
A prerequisite for employment at most upscale health-clubs is a college degree in something like Kinesiology.
So they’re educated, which is more than you can say for most strippers.
Second, they’re super ridiculously fit, unlike most wives.
And third, they have healthy lifestyle habits, so [in your mind, anyway] you won’t have to chase them down at nightclubs and pool parties at 3 in the morning.
The fantasy is a supercharged version of the woman you met at Dartmouth 25 years ago. An upgrade from the standard 6-speed to PDK with more horsepower and better suspension.
All female trainers in these environments are keenly aware of this fantasy and leverage it like a hammer of the gods.
This is why the lion’s share of clients for these women are men over 40 — and sometimes women who want to save their marriages.
Postscript: The types of men and women trainers attract has everything to do with presentation.
Trainer Stereotytpes and the Clients They Attract
1] Super hot 25 – 32 year-old female.
Clients: Men over 40
2] Chiseled man of color with attitude.
Clients: Attractive young females who know he knows how to get them in the kind of shape they want to in in to attract men like him…or him as the case may be.
3] Male or female bodybuilder.
Clients: Men and women interested in sculpting and putting on some mass.
3] Older male or female trainers without no other agenda than keeping their clients out of emergency rooms.
Clients: Normal, well-adjusted men and women over 40 who see the big picture rather than a subplot.
Here we go again.
These ads must be written by a coven of angry Madison Avenue witches suffering post traumatic stress disorder after learning that their husbands are leaving them for 22-year-old strippers in the East Village.
This poor guy is so pathetic it’s laughable. His [whatever that is on his head], bankers attire and sexless body language leave one with the impression that he’d be better off dead.
But no matter how sad a state he appears to be in he STILL looks like her husband. Maybe he lover. Possibly her boyfriend! But definitely NOT her dad.
This company’s advertising is worth watching because it represents the most blatant attempt at negatively stereotyping middle-aged men that I’ve ever seen.
After a while this shit gets ridiculous.
The woman is obviously in her mid-40s, which is fine because she still looks great [but not in this photograph] for a hard-working middle-aged talk show host.
Generally speaking, I don’t care that people lie about their age.
But for someone like Handler who prides herself on coming clean about everything, and then demanding the same of her guests is beyond belief.
Now viewers focus more on the quality of her Botox injections than her performance.
Now she’s the brunt of the joke.
Gene Simmons’ “hair” is no longer a talking point.
Now everyone knows that the routine outing of guests is an effective ploy to deflect attention from herself.
I’d like to someone challenge her on the numbers, but I’m sure their appearance contract prohibits any mention of her age.
In the end, people would have far more respect for her if she just stopped embarrassing herself.
Yes, she can still attract the attention of young men — for a night, which is the crux of this whole thing: waning relevance.
Love the irony.
Does it really matter whether or not I date, marry or live with someone less than half my age?
I guess it does if I’m 20, but what about 55?
Now she’s in her 20′s.
Are you still on board?
I’m not addressing you men because I know you couldn’t care less.
As for the rest of the population, it’s like the End of Days.
My live-in girlfriend is a millennial. I am a Baby-Boomer. Together we look like the typical urban father and daughter.
Does this make you kinda’ sick?
If it does, you’re not alone.
We feel the heat everywhere we go. Not within more enlightened urban circles, but everywhere else which is a lot of real estate.
Nonetheless, I think you take love where you can find it, and if age is the only thing separating two people, it’s not enough to stop it.
I live in the moment. We both do. What happens ten years from now will happen then, not now.
If we were born at exactly the same moment in time, it could all end tomorrow for reasons having nothing whatsoever to do with age-relevance. Divorce doesn’t show favoritism.
With these thoughts in mind, I’m sure you’d like to know how this thing of ours happened in the first place?
More specifically, how did a 55-year-old man attract the romantic attention of a 25-year-old without a blatant financial proposition?
This is what most people think when they see relationships like ours, which are exploding like a pandemic, by the way.
They never imagine that through something like prolonged exposure, two people might eventually stumble upon a connection they would never otherwise consider possible.
And I’m not talking about sex, because the older man/younger woman crush is as old as the hills, and usually, just as predictable in outcome.
The fantasy. The one off with professor X. The race back to “reality.”
But in some cases “reality” is more fluid.
Sometimes love blindsides us for reasons we could debate for the next thousand years, but suffice to say, a lot of it [in the case of generational divides] is about healing one another’s emotional wounds.
When the chasm is wide, you need a lot of glue.
People in these kinds of relationships tend not to fit the normal, well-adjusted profile.
But neither are we co-dependent, or insane, or “business partners.”
Everyone has a trigger, and most of it involves family-of-origin issues. So when those issues are strong enough, unusual things tend to show up; particularly in one’s love life.
But at this writing, neither of us are in mental institutions thank you very much.
We’re both degreed. She is an artist and freelance graphic designer, and I am a semi-retired photographer and writer.
I say “semi-retired” because I will never retire no matter how much I have in the bank. And she is driven to the point of obsession, so it’s a wash.
OOOOh, so it’s about MONEY! I KNEW THERE WAS A CATCH! NO WONDER SHE “LOVES” HIM.
NEWSFLASH: If I were 35 and broke, the odds of my finding an attractive, age-relevant girlfriend would be nil. My only shot would be to find an older woman of means who didn’t mind having a handsome houseboy around while she was out taking over the world.
My point here is that we all have standards and we’re all objectively appraised on some level. So while my young girlfriend may find safe haven in me from whatever hell descended before we met, we all find something that matters more than everything else combined.
“C” worked for me as an artist’s assistant, and over time, we grew close. Aside from the fact that many people [primarily older women] find this situation as questionable as they do distasteful, it is really a statement about their own flagging sense of self.
The fact of the matter is I would have been happy to date a 40-something woman, but I never found a connection.
It had nothing whatsoever to do with holding out for someone in their 20’s to validate me.
It was not about age at all, but rather about how difficult it was finding love in the first place.
This is why it is so important to hold on to it when it does materialize no matter what the hell it looks like from the outside.
…and why it’s never fair or equal. She pays her price. He pays his.
Live Dolls aren’t just 125 pounds of rubber.
They’re 5 feet 6 inches of perfectly proportioned rubber.
If they were 4’8” at this weight, they would be fat. But they’re not fat, which is one reason you can expect to pay seven thousand dollars for a typical blonde.
And when the body starts to crack, you can just order another one. Many people like to keep the same head, particularly if they like her personality.
“Sex alleviates tension. Love causes it.” Woody Allen
When someone comes into a person’s life – either personally, professionally, or peripherally – a lot of people come with them. You don’t see these people, however, because they’re just a little piece of the person sitting in front of you. The same person who goes by one name, but often deserves at least six.
Apply where necessary.
I’ll just leave it at that.
Some people are wired for monogamy.
They’re comfortable being content, rather than excited. Pushing the endorphins through the roof isn’t what keeps them out of mental hospitals. It never did. They don’t need the fire, the unpredictability or the chaos of life out on the perimeter.
They just pass the time and eventually the baton to their kids, ignoring the crows lining the power lines as they wander outside alone to stare at the stars and wonder what happened to the person they used to know: The one who still uses their name, social security number and physical mailing address.
This is where Xanax comes in handy, or the hooker housewife from AshleyMadison.com.
But these are the unmentionables. Even thinking about such things in the presence of crows is exactly why they’re sitting up there in the first place.
With this in mind, I actually do know people who accept married life for what it is. And most of them have never heard of ashleymadison.com, nor would they care. Their libido’s beat to a different drummer; someone who’s on vacation a lot.
It’s like they’re from some far away place back in history.
I see bookshelves filled with names like James Patterson, Tom Clancy and Sue Grafton. As an added bonus, one might also find a copy of Moby Dick and the poetry of Henry David Thoreau.
But you’d be hard-pressed to locate a DSM-IV, Nietzsche Anthology, or anything by Woody Allen, for obvious reasons.
I feel a little lost in their presence. Disconnected. Like I’m peering into another galaxy where the physics is different. Time seems like an endless flow of overlapping circles, rather than hard angles all pointing in different directions.
So I’m an outsider, a perceived threat; like a virus that’s looking for a way in. I’m dangerous because I mention the unmentionables. Think the unthinkable. Step outside the boundaries of what maintains this alliance.
Just imagine ragged concrete against the delicate surface of a water balloon, if that helps.
What exactly does he want here? I can’t predict his comments. He has to be contained because he hasn’t signed on to this world. He’s not one of us. And whatever loose pieces reside within us, he’ll exploit. Ours is a world of serenity, through which we see the rest of life; the one we want to see because we have to see if this is to continue.
I’ve always found it interesting how married people like this interact with me. I like to play, who’s the psychotic? Because they are so interconnected, so intertwined and so emotionally indistinguishable that I feel as though I’m embroiled in some weird, low level warfare with one – rather than two – creatures who carefully scrutinizes my behavior before deciding whether or not to change the locks.
In therapy you pay a trained Psychologist or M.D. to help alleviate psychological problems.
In yoga, you side-step the human condition altogether by tapping into the energy of the universe.
I dunno. It kind of sells itself…
Yoga is feminism’s answer to patriarchy.
If you disagree with me on this, you’re wrong. Not wrong because you have an opposing view, but wrong because your position on the issue is wrong. There’s a difference.
This is one reason so many drop-dead gorgeous women are packing yoga classes from coast to coast…and why certain male yoga instructors, including the revered yogi master – often from places like Cleveland – have improbable liaisons with women half their age and twice their I.Q.
There’s an angle for everything.
These guys offer an “enlightened” alternative to the baboons most women encounter in bars and nightclubs.
The popularity of yoga is really just a reaction to a food chain that appraises women at 35 the same way it did when they were 17.
Of course, at 17 they didn’t have a problem with it because there wasn’t much to criticize.
So it’s a kind of sanctuary for the disaffected.
In therapy you pay a trained Psychologist or M.D. to help alleviate psychological problems.
In yoga, you side-step the human condition altogether by joining forces with the universe; something that isn’t taught in medical school for some reason.
Yoga culture empowers women to express their sexuality under the pretext of spiritual awakening. They use the term, “awakening,” a lot because it sounds better than “fucking” in the context of higher human consciousness.
It’s also a way to buffer oneself from what is perceived to be constant, low-level patriarchal abuse.
Think packs of enlightened, confident, tuned in, empowered, intelligent and aware women with attitude and you get the sense that you’re in the middle of a war zone.
Yoga studios are places where women can express resentment without actually articulating it. These studios are often like psychological boot camps not unlike what one sees in groups like al-Qaida.
When a woman tells a man that she’s involved in “yoga,” the following message is conveyed:
“I’m enlightened, so don’t even think about fucking with me. I’m sexually open because that’s my right, but I only sleep with men who are on board with my message. I am smart, evolved, alert. I know all about shit you can’t even imagine. Fuck off if you dare walk in this class and stare at my ass just because I happen to be wearing paper-thin Lycra from Lululemon. I’m here to escape men like you. I’m here to escape judgment, superficiality, patriarchy. Of course, I do appreciate the attention, which I’ll deny under oath.”
The men who do join these classes accept the fact that they are perceived as emasculated members of an otherwise primitive gender afforded a second chance because of their efforts at maintaining cognition in the midst of what appears to be an all-out orgy.
With this in mind, I’m not sure which gender is the best adapted.
Self-love and inspiration is worth more than a thousand bent gold spoons! John F. Murray
Women often fantasize about being worshiped and adored by some imaginary Prince they read about in a fairy tale. But unlike Santa Claus and the Tooth fairy, alleviating this one requires prescription medication, like Haldol, for example.
Nonetheless, every once in a while a woman will report meeting a man who appears to fit this fantasy profile. He’s usually had an incestuous experience with his mother and now unconsciously relives the fantasy through a surrogate in the form of a pathological narcissist, who doesn’t fully grasp her actual role in his life because it’s not about his life. It’s about what he brings to her life to make it even grander than she thinks everyone else imagines it to be.
Note: You have to keep this straight when dealing with these people, including the meds, because if you’re not careful they’ll grab the Oxycotin, instead, to keep the fantasy strung out.
Put another way, she has to find someone damaged enough to justify the cost of being in her presence for more than 20 minutes without a cigarette break.
Most men I know have lives outside of the women they date, which is common in families where nurturing is shared rather than stolen.
Anyway, I was at a fundraiser the other night when this brunette decided to bless all of us with a surprise appearance after spending an evening in the Orion Nebula.
Her haircut was an asymmetrical black-on-black over dye, last seen on the Star Trek movie, The Wrath of Khan.
And I could swear there was a kind of luminescence hanging in the air around her head that looked like digital photographs of Holy Mary sightings over in Italy…and sometimes, Detroit.
She was accompanied by an invisible man who gave the impression of a quiet parasite on the bark of a cypress tree.
He stayed put.
He kept his eyes and ears to himself.
He didn’t wander.
He didn’t move or speak without intuiting permission.
His clothing was of subtle earth tones and unobtrusive.
This is what I mean by invisible, because by comparison, he was.
She was aware of other men, but refused to acknowledge them.
She would not interact with anyone she didn’t already know.
She came and went like the wind, as though it was natural for her to periodically mingle with life forms she herself created before disappearing back into some wormhole without a second thought.
But this creature is on a death march, because there is no wormhole other than the one she’s trapped in when she’s not on the Haldol.
The whole thing is a charade that’ll end up as a footnote in some psychiatric manual.
This is because two people are always and forever two separate and distinct people, not one thing without a padlock…no matter what star system you happen to be in.
1] Radical feminism considers the male controlled capitalist hierarchy, which it describes as sexist, as the defining feature of women’s oppression [one reason women report problems achieving orgasm without a "Jackrabbit"].
2] Radical feminists believe that women can free themselves only when they have done away with what they consider an inherently oppressive and dominating patriarchal system [but they'll feign complete ignorance in exchange for money].
3] Radical feminists feel that there is a male-based authority and power structure and that it is responsible for oppression and inequality, and that as long as the system and its values are in place, society will not be able to be reformed in any significant way [just ask Chanel, Gucci, Prada and La Perla].
4] Some radical feminists see no alternatives other than the total uprooting and reconstruction of society in order to achieve their goals [the last time one of these women got a date was somewhere back in the 12th century - during some kind of plague - and that had more to do with bedside manner in exchange for a goat].
Echols, Alice (1989). Daring to be bad: radical feminism in America, 1967-1975 [Ms. Echols’ real name was George Tannenbaum. He was America’s first male-to-female transsexual, and the first case of transsexual discrimination in the workplace after being fired from a Pittsburg steel mill for showing up in fishnets. The man who fired her was also fired after being spotted with her at a local bar.
Burger King has sponsorships with the National Football League and Nascar and tie-ins with “The Simpsons Movie.” It even came up with an Xbox game that sold more than 3.2 million copies last year.
“They hit a core demographic group — 18-to-24 males — and give them what they want,” said Bob Goldin, an executive vice president of Technomic, a food industry research and consulting firm.
Men are striking back with a vengeance – and I’m not talking about my generation – though there is some argument that we Baby-Boomers had something to do with it.
The way I see it, when you combine sexual and reproductive freedom with education and financial independence you end up with a civilization in its final hours.
I don’t mean this in any negative way, of course, but one can’t argue that it leads to fewer marriages, fewer children, and fewer arguments in favor of human perpetuity beyond one’s self.
Some consider this narcissistic, while others couch it as simple entitlement in the face of planetary extinction, without realizing their saying exactly the same thing.
Anyway, this trend has led to the creation of popular shows like “Life After People,” which boats a large following of those interested in what the neighborhood’s going to look like in 50 years…literally, 50 years.
This is something else they feel entitled to in spite of the fact that they’ll be the last human beings to see it.
In the end, I get really sick of these feminist arguments.
So what if the man comes home to an indentured servant who rubs his back, hands him a gin and tonic and generally worships him for paying the bills?
And so what if she also has to keep her mouth shut about everything else, like feelings, for example, which lighten the load for her, but make it a lot heavier for him?
And who cares if it takes a chain like Burger King to exploit the obvious in order to turn a profit? If it weren’t the truth, there would be no profit, which is bad news for women who will do whatever it takes to keep the house in Aspen, hence the ads.