I’m sitting here, writing this on the Monday after Christmas. New Year’s is a few days away, and the coffee is strong and hot at the moment. Why do I bring up coffee? Because I’m normally drinking beer when I write these posts. I’m wondering if my “work” will be “better” when I’m more sober or when I’m more drunk. I guess time will tell.
On Christmas Eve, I went to a Christmas party with my Dad and his girlfriend. My women were either out of town, or they were doing their own stuff with their families. The people at the party were closer to my age than my father’s age. In fact, out of about 30 or so people, there were only 4 people that were “Boomers.” The rest were either Gen X and a very small smattering of Zoomers. There might have been 2 or 3 Millennials in the crowd as well, but you get the idea.
I ended up tweeting in buzzed, real time about this party. My father, me, and one other guy were the only one’s there that were height/weight proportionate, as in, not fat. There was not one single woman there that wasn’t overweight to one degree or another. Not one. The majority of these women also henpecked and ridiculed their men. It made me a little sick to my stomach to watch it go down and to watch these guys just…take it. I’ve realized I have a hard line in the sand when it comes to this one. If a woman that is with me has an issue with me, I’m more than willing to hear her out and discuss it, if necessary. In private.
If the woman is new to me, she gets one pass on this one. I’ll tell her to her face, calmly, quietly, to not do that again. There are no second passes for this one. She does it a second time, I walk. I can tolerate all sorts of shit, but not this one. It’s open disrespect and I won’t have it. Whether I met her yesterday or I have been with her for years, the end result will be the same. And you know what? I’ve actually had to have the conversation with a couple of women in the past. In one case, I walked and it was done. In the other cases, they never belittled or talked down about me again. The majority of the women that have been with me, I have never had to have this conversation because they “looked up to me” and saw me as what I was: Their Man. And a human being.
I still am blown away by what I saw that night. I can’t fathom it other than something that somebody said when I was on Red Evening with Jack Napier: “Do you think that the guy’s think that they could do better?” It was a brilliant question and it had never occurred to me. I know I can always do better, so why would I stand for that behavior? I wouldn’t. But these guys… I’m not them, and I can’t read their minds, and I had literally met most of them that night, but I would wager a year’s salary that they don’t believe that they could do better than the wives they had. You get the relationships you deserve.
If that is the actual, “normal” state of “affairs,” I’ll stay single, thanks. And yet that’s not what I see in my own world. My women adore me, cherish me, and are literally crazy about me. And that’s normal for me.
A brief conversation between me and my father:
Dad: Did you get your girls a gift for Christmas?
Me: Yes, it’s the gift of me.
Dad: What are you going to do if they want to return it?
Me: Find another woman. (Shrug)
We are not the same.
Speaking of crazy, Red and Black may actually be fucking crazy for real. Not in the “all women have anxiety and are neurotic” levels of crazy, but like literally “on the spectrum” crazy. She may in fact have Multiple Personality Disorder. I’m no psychologist, but some of her behaviors point in that direction. I’m not getting “stabby stalker” vibes from her, at least not yet, so I’ll carry on as usual with her. Besides, crazy chicks can be major fun. Let’s just say that when she has an orgasm, she goes somewhere else and becomes someone else. It’s trippy. It only lasts for a few moments, maybe a minute or two at most, but man, it’s something else. What does that say about me though? Because, man, I kind of dig it.
Like I’ve said many times in the past, I’m not your guru and I sure as hell ain’t your role model.
New Year’s is going to be fun. I’ve got New Year’s Eve off and I’ll be spending most of that day and New Year’s Day with my belly dancer. It will be fun to ring in the new year with her. She’s also opted in on my birthday which is a week later. We will be going back to Wendover for more food and debauchery. When I say “opted in,” what I mean is that my days available to do stuff are pretty limited. Between “dating” itself, work, my shows, and my own personal time, I don’t have a lot of spare time, so it’s first come, first serve with me. My belly dancer grabbed both this upcoming weekend and next weekend for herself. She’s greedy like that. And I’m okay with that. I enjoy my time with her and she knows that if I think she’s taking up too much of my time, I’ll say something and let her know as much.
One thing that my experiences with women and relationships has taught me is nuance. What I mean in this case is that there are a plethora of women out there that I would be more than happy to fuck, but very few that I would commit to. Mostly due to trial and error, I’ve come to some conclusions about the women that I would consider committing to.
The first thing is that she is height/weight proportionate. It’s a no-brainer really, but at the same time, it’s me thinking aloud and giving you something to chew on. I prefer thinner to thicker, but at the same time, it brings me to the second thing:
She has a pleasant personality. She’s kind and easy to get along with. She’s laid back. Think “low maintenance.” If she is pleasant, that gives her some leeway as to her height/weight proportions. I don’t mind a woman with a little bit of fluff on her if she is pleasant. By no means am I expecting perfection, because I am not perfect either. There are limits to how far the weight and pleasant personality go, but there is “wiggle room” in there if she’s pleasant.
Now here’s where the nuance comes in:
I’ve been with enough women over the years to realize that not every woman is “in her body.” In fact, many are in their heads and it’s like pulling teeth to get them into their bodies. “In her body” is my way of saying that she’s comfortable in her own skin, likes sex, has a healthy view of sexuality, and is open to having sex on a regular basis as well as trying new and different things when it comes to sex. The only other term I have heard that seems to fit my description here is that she is “earthy.” She may not be able to stop the hamster wheel from spinning, but she can grease it to make it stop squeaking so much, and she can slow it down on her own.
So height/weight proportionate, pleasant personality, and “in her body” are the things that I look for when it comes to possible commitment on a long term basis. Or any real commitment other than the moment I guess. Nowhere do I worry about cooking, cleaning, being a “quality woman,” being a “good mother,” being traditional, how many tattoos she has, what color her hair is, or what her relationship to her father is.
My belly dancer is all of the above. The one that really stands out though is she is “in her body.” Red and Black is 2 out of 3. She’s more in her head than anything and it can be a pain in the ass to get her into her body. I can do it, and I do, but it can also be tiresome. Not that I’m looking to seriously commit any time soon, but if I were to, I would choose my belly dancer just on the criteria that I have mentioned.
Random, whimsical musings in my head.
The point here is you only get to nuance through experience. Sex, from a purely physical standpoint, feels pretty much the same from woman to woman. You only learn that from having sex with a bunch of different women. Or you can take my word for it. The choice is always yours. I’m a big fan of finding out firsthand though. After enough experience with women, and yes, your mileage will vary, you get to that “nuance” that I’m talking about. You’ll find your nuance, whatever it may be. I’m sure that your “list” will be different from mine.
3 thoughts on “Christmas, New Year’s, And The Manic Star”
Geez Louise. I just can’t imagine being these men.
That’s one thing that men don’t tell each other. They think “strong” means being able to lift heavy shit, or to be able to beat up other men. Then they work on those aspects, which are great, don’t get me wrong. But they totally forget the aspect that a woman is supposed to look up to her man, not belittle him.
So they take the abuse.
One of the toughest dudes I’ve ever known took an amazing amount of abuse from his woman. I don’t get it. I would have walked after one warning. Just like you.
You’ve met my wife. You see how she treats me. Of course it helps to have my profession – I’m literally surrounded by beautiful naked women. So she has to keep up.
It’s like the phone question. Do you let her see your phone? I said yes. She saw it once and gave it back in about 15 seconds. Apparently women don’t like to see the women they go out for coffee with naked.
As for the fat women thing – I blame the men. You’ll have too many men nowadays say “no, you’re beautiful just the way you are.” No. She’s not. Lose 20-30 pounds then I’ll give you a compliment. Until then, they ain’t getting a single compliment from me. No fat women. No short hair. No nose rings. No bitchy faces. I tolerate very little and that’s how men are supposed to be. This whole tolerance thing is what caused the problem in the first place.
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Rob, what you described at that party is why my wife and I have no “couple” friends. They are unbearable. To both of us. My wife despises weak men (Happy wife happy life makes her want to puke). When we were dating in high school, I can’t remember her ever hen pecking me. A few years after marriage, we can both point to two instances where she went down that road and was embarrassed in front of her family. To this day she will tell you she knew she married the right guy when I showed no fear, and in one instance she came running out to the truck, kids in tow, because I was leaving without her. As she got in, she asked, “Why did you leave me?” I answered simply, “Never talk to me like that again. If you have a problem, we talk outside. I am not one of your children.” Not another word was said about it. It never happened again.
More men need this… But then, they don’t listen, do they?
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They never listen. Until it’s usually too late.
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