Posts Tagged ‘Sex’

At some point, every place you frequent will become corrupted by suburbanites.

In New York, for example, clubs and restaurants closed after “bridge and tunnel” traffic destroyed the vibe.

In Houston, business models take this kind of thing into consideration so it doesn’t really matter. I guess people in Manhattan thought they’d be better insulated, but Jersey was just a bridge away.

The divide between Suburban and Urban is much worse than jarring. It’s hysterical and getting worse it would seem.

Frames of reference are light years apart. In fact, everything about big city life sets whatever happens in Suburbia in another star system.

I guess it’s like going to war for the first time. Everything is shocking until it isn’t and then your just as screwed as the rest of us.

 

 

An online survey of 5,481 singles ages 21 and older who are not in a relationship agreed to participate in a survey hosted by Market Tools Inc. for Match.com. The question for women and men was: List, in order of importance, the things you find most attractive in the opposite sex.

http://www.usatoday.com/story/news/nation/2013/02/04/singles-dating-attraction-facebook/1878265/

The results may surprise you.

………….

10 things men judge women most on:

 

Teeth: 58%

Grammar: 55%

Hair: 51%

Clothes: 45%

Having/not having a tat: 40%

Nail/hands: 37%

The accent: 19%

Shoes: 18%

The car they drive: 13%

Electronic devices they carry: 9%

 

10 things women judge men most on:

 

Teeth: 71%

Grammar: 69%

Clothes: 58%

Hair: 53%

Nails/hands: 52%

Have/not having tattoo: 34%

Shoes: 29%

The car they drive: 24%

Their accent: 22%

Electronic devices they carry: 10%

 

So here’s the deal:

 

I have always considered nice teeth a big deal in the context of dating. But of equal importance is everything else.

 

For example, an obese woman with flawless teeth is far less appealing than a fitness model with slightly crooked teeth. You can work on the teeth. But it’s tough to work off 100 pounds.

 

Obesity is also an indication of poor lifestyle habits or mental illness. See, the teeth can be healthy without looking like the caption above. But nice teeth are also found on psychotics, which is an issue not addressed in the survey, but of equal importance; particularly in big cities where most of the insane live and date.

Suzy Hamilton isn’t the only person on the planet with a double life.

Half my ex’s had at least three.

http://abcnews.go.com/US/olympian-suzy-favor-hamilton-worked-escort-vegas/story?id=18028725#.UNc3o3Czr7c

………..

These days it’s easy assume a variety of identities while maintaining the same social security number.

You log on to the Internet as a man or a woman or member of the deceased reconnecting with loved ones, and soon the endorphin highs take over and your entire life becomes an Internet projection.

In essence, you become someone else.

Of course, there’s nothing new about this.

People have been playing this game since the Internet was first available to the public.

Back then we imagined a morbidly obese man without a shot in hell of getting laid without a crowbar and a motive sitting in front of a computer chatting with chatting up some young woman who thinks he’s an 18-year-old athlete.

This became the stereotype for such behavior.

But today we see attractive 40-year-old attorneys with husbands, kids and country club memberships pretending to be sex addicts in financial trouble.

Now the persona’s have legs three dimensions, which is a big deal in the context of collective evolution and why a meteor strike might not be the worst thing.

Anonymity has become our new world drug, replacing even therapy.

With this in mind, whenever I’m introduced to someone new, I just assume that the person I don’t see is infinitely more entertaining.

 

 

By the time you reach middle age and your off hours are spent cavorting with women in and around big cities, just know that motive generally supersedes lust.

In other words, while some will express an interest in getting to know you, it may have more to do with your spending habits.

With this as a backdrop, might I suggest you sink your teeth into the following before your penis hijacks your life:

1] Her full legal name.

Notes: This is easier said than done when you’re dealing with people who have things to hide, like identity, which eludes even them with so many aliases over so much time.

Nonetheless, no matter what they tell you, if the information doesn’t check out on paid Internet database searches, you already know anyway.

2] Her place of birth.

Notes: If she tells you she’s from an obscure town in the middle of nowhere and you’re on a date with her in the middle of Los Angeles, you’ll want to know what she’s doing in Los Angeles. If it’s not a corporate transfer, it’s dirt.

3] Her family of origin.

Notes: This is a sensitive subject for some given the vagaries of loose genetics, but you want to know what her parents do [or did] for a living? Their divorce status. How many times? Siblings? If so, what do they do, and where?

It’s amazing to me how many divorced friends go out on dates with women they know nothing about, but are convinced they’ve finally found THE ONE DIAMOND IN THE ROUGH. There are also bones in the rough, which people keep digging up without suspicion because a perfect round ass triggers an automatic suspension of disbelief.

4] Education.

Notes: Does she have a college degree? If so, was it obtained online, or did she physically attend classes at Dartmouth? I know women with multiple degrees from top universities who got in with a credit card and an Internet connection.

5]Facebook or other social media profile [s].

Notes: You will need their usernames if for whatever reason [s] they use a non-du plume, which is not uncommon with women who have stalkers, including ex-husbands who want their kids back.

6] Employment status and company name.

Notes: “Between jobs” is a red flag unless they have a game plan that sounds like something other than an improvisation.

Non-Red Flag: I recently lost my job in Human Resources at ABC Tool Company due to downsizing. But they gave me a great severance package and letters of recommendation.

Red Flag blowing in hurricane force winds: I was tending bar while attending community college in Florida and the next thing you know I was here.

7] Physical mailing address.

Notes: “Between addresses” is a red flag unless they’re in a witness protection program or a stripper. Most people have physical addresses, unless they just moved to a new city, in which case they already have a place to stay before they find a place they want to live, so find out where they’re staying – and with whom.

8] Interests.

Notes: If they say something like “skiing in Aspen,” it’s the same thing as giving you a fake name, unless their parents have a home in the area, which is doubtful and why you need to ask before you end up like the rest of the men in their wake.
9] Cultural literacy.

Does the name Shakespeare mean anything to you?

10] Clinical diagnosis.

Note [s]: Some women will just come out and tell you they’re bi-polar as though it gives them relevance and charm. Others will flip the conversation and insinuate that you’re the psychopath. With crazy people you never know where the shit’s going to fly, and since cities are crazy magnets, you’re always at war on some level.

At a certain point, women transition from blind faith and sacrifice in the name of family — to running numbers in exchange for profit and pleasure in the name of survival.

But don’t blame them.

It’s life in the human food chain, and both genders are playing to survive.

……………

After a weekend of fun observing what can only be described as a nightmare waiting to happen, I decided to post this as a public service.

1] NEVER, EVER invite a woman you just met to fly with you to Europe for the weekend. It will stamp an indelible bull’s-eye on your forehead, marking you for emotional and financial death at the hands of someone who knows how to do it.

Any woman who’s been around enough knows you’re just using your miles for the first-class seats and room upgrades; and one look at your condo will tell her all she needs to know about your Ferrari.

2] If she’s within 10 years of your age – and running in similar circles – she already knows your value system and how to leverage it, which means you either pick softer targets or fine-tune your concept of love.

Note: True love is something that happens to normal, well-adjusted men and women in their early 20′s – primarily from the Mid West, so be reasonable with yourself.

3] If you have money invest it in a nice home, then put a Chevy Tahoe in the garage. If you must have a high performance sports car, make sure it doesn’t have extra fins, decals or hood ornaments. Any demon can sniff out fading relevance in a heartbeat.

4] If you’ve been married a long time and suddenly find yourself back on the streets, understand that you’re now at war. Everything you say, every move you make, every vocal inflection, every designer label, every accessory, everything will determine where you stand in the context of the human food chain. People will sum up your life in milliseconds and then decide – consciously or otherwise – whether or not you’re worth their investment in time.

When you’re young you can plea bargain. But at this stage of the game, the resume is already scripted.

Many divorcées are shocked to learn that life is so devoid of everything they thought it was when they started out, but it bleeds hard along the way.

5] NEVER, EVER choose a woman simply because she works out all the time, and has a flawless physique. She is asset balancing. Whatever she doesn’t have in one area of her life she is compensating for somewhere else. In other words, if her perfect ass eclipses her 2nd grade education and felony convictions, she just balanced the scales.

I say these things because they are true, not because I like saying them.

I have never understood this debate.

I understand that women are reduced to objects in the media, and often, in real life. But men are subjected to similar scrutiny.

Most of this discussion comes from the older man/younger woman paradigm, where she’s his object for hire.

But any 25-year-old woman with an actual brain isn’t going to choose a 25-year-old man based solely on his appearance.

He will also have to be “father material:” psychologically balanced, physically healthy, reasonably attractive, well educated — and most importantly, a hay maker.

This is objectification. There isn’t another word for it. We all face the obligatory line items.

1] When an older man dates a much younger woman, he may do so because she is physically beautiful, among many other things.

2] When a young woman chooses to date an older man, she may do so because he can provide for her, among many other things.

We’re all in the same boat.

Expectations stand shoulder-to-shoulder on both sides of the aisle.

………….

With these things in mind, I thought I’d throw out what seems to be the internal narratives of todays woman:

How do I want him to perceive me?

On a scale of 1 to 10, where do “object” and “person” fall?

How can I find a balance? A composite sketch…

How far can I push the object without losing the rest of me?

How much can I withhold and still hang on?

It’s all my choice, really. But in a way it isn’t, because there really isn’t any choice.

“I have to be what he wants me to be or he’ll find someone who will. I have to fight for his attention through specific manner and dress, because no matter how much he loves me, he loves the object just as much.”

So why do we tolerate the objectification? Why don’t we objectify in return? Do we like being perceived as objects of beauty? Is this enough to justify the emotional and financial cost?

Men want us to be beautiful.

This is our job.

Theirs is to be successful and to provide security.

Sure, I’d prefer that guy over there in the beautifully tailored Armani slacks and white Prada dress shirt, with the tight, flat stomach and broad shoulders.

That’s what I want.

But what he’ll want in return is what bothers me. I will have to be his reflection…and then stay that way after children — whether he does or not – because that’s my role.

Object first, then mother, then wife.

Men expect everything from us because we have been taught to expect everything of ourselves.

Do I even like being a woman? Is it more crucible than anything else?

In the end, is all the attention I work so hard for really worth it?

Would I prefer to be a man?

Still no.

 

 

I was thinking back over my dating life when I was reminded of the fact that if I wanted the woman of my dreams, I would have to break up with the one I was with.

Within 12 hours, she would do everything I ever asked of her, but resented me for suggesting, and therefore refused.

Mindful of this, my suggestion for any man who is not getting his needs met to end his current relationship and then figure out a way to drug and kidnap his girlfriend a month later.

Women know what men want.

They know exactly what men want.

But they usually resent it, and then act out accordingly.

It’s easy to keep a man happy. But unfortunately, it’s a lot tougher keeping a woman happy with herself knowing that she’s doing things she resents for the sake of love.

But women only get what they deserve, which is something they learn to quantify very quickly the moment they’re back in the food chain.

Physical objectification and traditional female roles may be every woman’s crucible, but I’ve never met a man who wouldn’t admit under the influence of sodium Pentathol and morphine that money wasn’t his.

Why do I bother treating women any differently than I treat men?

I mean really.

I should know by now not to go out of my way unless the woman is over 70. But I do it anyway because I hold a certain disdain for political correctness, and admittedly, enjoy irritating women who I suspect won’t appreciate the gesture.

It’s the same thing as addressing a woman in her mid-30′s as Madam, if this helps.

They get your drift no matter how deadpan you are about it.

With this in mind, I did happen to hold open a door for a woman the other day without thinking much about it. But instead of smiling and thanking me, she glared at me the way people glare at serial killers when they pull the insanity defense.

Women are on two entirely different pages where gender interaction is concerned, and men are expected to consider this clinically normal — like everything else women say and do, no matter what the hell it is.

But here’s the rub:  If the “right” man holds the door for them, it signals a successful end to a lifelong quest to prove everyone else wrong: That good men [gentlemen] do, in fact, exist.

God help the guy who resembles her ex doing the same damn thing because now he’s a misogynist with a homicidal tick.

Most of this behavior can be traced to women who waited too long to marry and are now pissed off that they missed the boat. So they use this post-feminist projection crap as a weapon to justify their rage.

Okay, I get it.

They fucked up and now we’re going to pay for it.

Many of these women claim to be too independent, feisty, strong-minded, intimidating and intelligent for most men, but this goes out the window when Mr. Perfect Reflection materializes.

Now you damn well better hold the door.

Another breed of woman is the one who did marry [often several times] and now stuck with kids she’d like to unload.

And while such women declare their kids to be the “love of their lives,” what they’re really advertising [to men] is that their kids are potty trained and agreeable, in spite of the fact that most men would rather do 3 tours in Fallujah than take them on.

With this as a backdrop, I’m sure there is residual suspicion in the backs of all women’s minds that gentlemanly behavior is suspect.

Is there a sexual motive?

Is he being dismissive?

I think the bottom line here is that unless there’s potential chemistry with a woman, treat her like a guy.

Do not open doors for her.
Do not pull out their chairs.
Do not allow her to order first at restaurants.
Do not walk her to their car.

Of course, if there is chemistry and you don’t do the aforementioned, there is no more chemistry.

http://www.foxnews.com/entertainment/2012/09/05/pills-injections-and-plastic-suits-dangerous-extremes-models-go-to-to-walk/

We live in an interesting world, particularly the urban one: The one with all the anorexics and therapists.

There is no middle ground here.

There is the visual. And there is the damned.

That’s it.

Those two.

There are no other choices for anyone with any interest in fine dining and something other than a used Subaru.

Pick.

…………

With this in mind, it is not uncommon for women at my health club to spend the entire day primping and working out.

This is their job, and as such is  considered normal behavior no matter what the psychiatric community has to say about it.

The results of this stringent regime are also the primary reason so many women are married and single at the same time, but especially the married ones.

I’m told there is a long line at the entrance when the club opens at 5:30 AM, and that many of the same faces are seen throughout the day until they’re locked out at 10 PM.

But being present as much as possible is critical for two reasons:

One, people obviously need to exercise more than 6 hours a day.

And two, financial guys tend to hit the gym after the stock market closes at 3:00pm, which is feeding time for women who don’t feel adequately remunerated by their current husbands for all the hard work.

This is the human food chain in action, and it never closes for business — even during tsunamis, earthquakes and nuclear war.

 

 

 

 

When I was a kid I had dreams of becoming an archaeologist.

I would collect plastic dinosaurs and make them kill each other.

So in this sense, I was a normal, well-adjusted kid.

…………….

The truth is I was born the moment my father died on July 3rd, 2003, which makes me a 9-year-old in spite of the fact that I’m in my middle 50′s.

No wonder I’m playing catch-up on everything I didn’t do when I was immortal, and why relevance is something I can never get enough of.

My father was a very bright, charismatic and domineering man who would eat his own young if they drew lines in the sand.

So I was muzzled if I wanted love, and what kid doesn’t?

By late adolescence I was a fledgling artist with clinical depression and a half-hearted commitment to a life I wasn’t sure even existed, if only because I couldn’t find myself in it.

But while many souls are lost forever in someone else’s fantasy, mine was stronger. It had a life of its own that went straight to war with everything I knew.

But as strong as it was, it wasn’t enough to kick me out into the light alone, outside the hard lines of my father’s shadow.

Nothing was that strong. Nothing, but death. One of us had to die. It would be me from the inside out, or it would be him from the outside in …which is what happened.

Propping up the heavy veneer finally caught up to him and it was over.

At that moment, I cried. Not for him, but for me.

I was an adult child suddenly turned loose on the world. Mine were tears born of emotional freedom, something that should have happened during adolescence so many decades ago.

I felt naked and exposed in a way I had never known. How could I stand without him? Who would prop me up when I stumbled? Who would fill the gaping cracks in my own life?

Dear God, it was me. I would do it. Alone. Without him.

All the pent up ideas and feelings and repressed dreams flew out of my heart like bats on earth’s last sunset.

So this was what life was supposed to feel like. Now it was tangible, real.

I no longer questioned it because I was finally in it. But now I felt like a child in an adult world where I had to play catch up at middle age.

……………….

As I see it, families are where big dreams begin and end.

In theory at least, they are supposed to build the structures that enable us to feel whole and complete, and thus, well adjusted to life on this planet. It is not the responsibility of the rest of the world to play stand-in parent at it’s own pace and discretion.

Unfortunately, we’re often left hanging by the former, which is one reason every famous name from my old neighborhood struggled to find a receptive audience.

This lack of affirmation fueled our struggle for recognition, which we got externally, since there wasn’t a damn thing inside to sink our teeth into.

Those scars never fully heal.

But they are a reminder that we’d rather be torn to ribbons than ignored, which suggests an upside, depending on your point of view.

………………..

In the end, though, there’s never enough affirmation to fill in all the cracks, which are in constant need of repair.

There’s just more and more plastering, which my father did until he could no longer get out of bed, and I continue to do to this day.

It’s like recovery from drug addiction. You’re always in the process.

Healing is a dream. A really big one.