Her: I have to really get to know a guy before I can have sex with him. The worst thing would be to give into it, then find out down the line it isn't going to work out.
Him: I have to have sex pretty early on in a relationship. The worst thing would be to get four or five months in and be crazy about a girl, only to find she's bad in bed.
Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention please?
Over here, in aisle three, we have a perfect little property for your consideration. Her personality is like sunshine on a rainy day. She's a sex kitten in the bedroom and a lady outside of it. Once you've got her heart, she will do anything, and we do mean ANYTHING you ask. Okay, no midget porn.
Please tell me guys because I'm failing to understand. Do you REALLY have to have sex with a woman to know whether or not she's good in bed? And if she's willing to climb into bed on the fourth date, don't you wonder just how many other men have conquered her? And wouldn't you want her to have sex with you because she wanted to, not because you told her you needed to test drive her first?
I call bullshit on your line. I do. I don't have to test drive a man to know whether or not he can satisfy me in bed. It's there, in the way he treats me. In every other way he lavishes me with attention. If he doesn't call very often or try to romance me, chances are he's not going to work all that hard once we do progress to the bedroom. Chances are I'm not going to want to go to the bedroom with someone who isn't even trying to win my mind as well as my...other body parts.
A man once told me easy women aren't as good in bed. If I were a man, I'd want the woman who was a sex kitten only for me. I would want the sweet, classy lady who turns into a wildcat as soon as the bedroom door is closed. And how would I know she's like that? Probably by her not giving in to my advances early on. Probably by the way she carries herself, her subtle flirtations, the sensuality of her kisses...
To me, the test drive is in the conversation. It is in how he seems to be feeling about me. If I don't feel he's crazy about me, that I'm on his mind throughout the day, sex isn't going to happen. Ever. Of course, we all know a man is going to push to see how far he can go, but a real man honors her wishes. If he's looking only for sex, he'll give up and go find someone easier. If he's looking for more, he'll actually appreciate the respect she has for her own body and give her the time she needs to become comfortable with him.
What makes a woman good in bed? Her feelings for you. And if they aren't there, what do you get? A woman who is engaging in a purely physical act without putting her heart and soul into it. I'm only good in bed when I truly care about the person I'm in bed with, plain and simple. Which means your "test drive" is about as useless as the line of crap you're spewing it with.
Remember sitting across the table at dinner, wondering if you would get a kiss at the end of the date? Wondering what his lips would feel like? Wondering if he was thinking the same thing?
And then, when the kiss was everything you could have dreamed...that was when the anxiety kicked in. Will he call again? Did he have as good a time as you did?
Finally, the follow-up call. A second date. More wondering about that kiss, only this time you know what it will be like. And it's all you can seem to think about.
Another kiss, perfect. But it leaves you wanting more.
This time there's not so much anxiety about that phone call. Still, you can't wait to talk to him again.
*Sigh.*
Perfection.
Can there be anything more beautiful than the beginning?
The sunlight highlighted her body, enhancing every curve. She was beautiful. Stunning. Most men would love to wake up in bed next to a woman like this. So why could he not seem to bring himself to feel anything?
Getting her into bed was easy. It always was these days. Funny, when he was in his 20s he'd tried so hard to convince women to sleep with him. These days he didn't even have to try.
Had women gotten easier or was he just...less desperate?
This one had given in on the second date. He knew she would. When he didn't kiss a woman at the end of the first date it seemed to drive her crazy. He was a perfect gentleman, always telling them from the beginning he didn't want anything serious. It wasn't even a game but they fell for it, every time. Apparently telling a woman you couldn't have sex with her was a challenge of some sort. Every time, within three dates, she was seducing him.
And now, here he was. He'd say goodbye at the door and make no promises to call again. Hopefully that would be enough but some women grew really angry at his disappearing act. Apparently sex was a promise... A promise he didn't want to make, but in the heat of the moment he couldn't seem to stop himself.
Women were drawn to his vulnerability. They wanted to change him. Then, when they couldn't, they grew angry with him. Called him a player. The only thing he could think to do was withdraw from life altogether. Stop seeing women. But he couldn't give up hope.
Someday he'd feel something again. Someday he'd meet that woman who would capture his heart. Someday he'd move past this place of hurting and truly be able to love again.
Until then, he'd keep searching. He'd be the most hated man in town for all the hearts he'd broken. The women would never see that they were partly to blame for their heartbreak. It was easier for them to blame him...and he'd shoulder that blame. He'd take his punishment. They would go on to find love, happiness, a home...while he would continue to wander, searching...
A couple of weeks ago, my friend and I were sitting in a coffee shop, reading magazines, when she saw something she had to show me. A woman was advising men to personalize their gifts. One year her boyfriend gave her a hand-made card with glitter on it. It was the sweetest gift she'd ever gotten. My friend and I had the same response:
"Cheap bastard."
"Here, sweetie. A piece of yellow construction paper with a heart drawn in it in glitter. It cost me less than two bucks to make, but it was from my heart. Isn't that sweet? It is, after all, the thought that counts."
Yeah, guys? Don't do that. Believe me. It's a story she'll tell the next boyfriend and the next one and the next one. "I once dated this guy who gave me a piece of construction paper for Christmas. I left his cheap ass the next day."
There should be a minimum amount of time you're dating before you're even required to buy Christmas gifts. Two months? Three? Whatever the case, you should at least be somewhat serious with the person. Luckily no one has to worry about buying me anything this Christmas (translation: I don't have to spend money on any of THEM!) but I would like to state, for the record, that I'm not all that hard to buy for. Clothes, jewelry...I'm a purse nut! Jewelry is probably safest since my taste seems to be rather...fickle, but for most women, clothing is a good bet for gift-giving. Don't all women like something new to wear on Christmas day?
If you don't know your lady's size, guess on the small side. She'll be flattered and she can always return it for a larger size. XL is NOT an option unless you know for certain that's her size. The best idea is just to sneak into her closet and look at the tags on her clothes.
Sweaters are always a great gift, but beware the Christmas sweater. Unless she's a Christmas sweater wearer in which case, you have my condolences. Maybe if you bought her a normal sweater she'll stop decorating herself up like a walking Christmas tree. It's worth a shot.
Sweaters come in all colors and shapes and sizes. I personally like sweaters that conform to my figure, rather than the boxier cut that is popular with the older generations. That means my clothes either come from high-priced retail chains like Bebe or from the Juniors department. Regular department stores assume you're either 18 or hiding fat rolls. There's no in between.
Do NOT try to buy her pants or jeans unless you specifically know the brand and cut she likes. We spend hours trying on jeans to find that perfect length and butt conformity... No way could a man guesstimate that sort of thing.
The key to finding the best clothing item for her is to buy her something you'd like to see her in. (Make sure it's not something your mom would wear -- that's just creepy.) When you're finished shopping the sweater aisles, you can't go wrong with a little Victoria:
Once upon a time there was a beautiful woman named Goldilocks. She went on a series of dates, in search of her Mr. Right. It started with the phone calls.
"This man's voice is too wimpy!" she cried as she hung up the phone with man number one.
"This man's voice is too dull!" she said after the second one.
Then she spoke to the third man. A deep, sexy voice.
"This man's voice is just right."
She headed across town to meet man number one for coffee. He was very meek and nervous, and looked nothing like his picture.
"This man isn't strong enough for me," she said to herself on the drive home.
The second date went over pretty much as the phone call had. Conversation lagged, the man hardly cracked a smile at her jokes. A man who doesn't get her jokes? Forget it.
"This man needs to lighten up," she said as she rushed from the coffee shop after coming up with an excuse to get away.
Then came the third man. Conversation flowed well and the chemistry seemed like a lightning bolt. She smiled to herself all the way home.
"This man was just right."
Just right.
Just Right texted her as soon as the first date was over, just to let her know he was thinking of her.
Just Right called her the next day, and every day thereafter.
Just Right made plans for the weekend well in advance, and asked what she wanted to do when making those plans.
Just Right seemed to take a genuine interest in who she was. He let her participate in the conversation, rather than spending the evening talking about himself.
Just Right was a perfect gentleman, only pushing her as far as she was ready to go.
Just Right was kind to her friends and family, even though they would try the patience of a saint.
Anyone who has ever done online dating knows, pictures lie. Who hasn't had that sinking feeling of disappointment when she walked into a coffee shop and laid eyes on her latest dating prospect?
Heck, I'm going to be honest. Sometimes I don't even recognize the guy, he looks so little like his picture. I use the singular term 'picture' because most often the deceptive type only has one photo up, taken from a distance, very blurry. Sometimes he's wearing a hat, sometimes he's photographed at an odd angle, sometimes the photo is from 1982. Before the 200 pound weight gain and boil on his left cheek.
I remember listening on the phone as one guy complained he rarely got a second date, but plenty of first dates. I couldn't see why. He was gorgeous in his photo, although it was a little fuzzy and from an odd angle. He showed up at the restaurant and I didn't even recognize him. It was night and day. I still to this day cannot see how the man I had dinner with was the same man in that photo. It would be like Kramer passing himself off as Jerry Seinfeld.
Every man I've met who has online dated has complained that women are falsifying photos at an alarming rate. After a while, most of them begin to expect a woman to be at least thirty, if not a hundred pounds heavier than what her picture reveals. They learn to avoid women who only have headshots, from creative angles, and who use soft lighting and "glamour shots" to trick men into contacting them. Yes, I do use the term "trick" because that's exactly what it is. Deceptive. And I just don't get it.
Both women and men who do this get the same result. Sure, they receive e-mails, phone calls, and first dates. A whole lot of e-mails, phone calls, and first dates. What these people don't get, though, is why they aren't getting a second date. They don't seem to realize...they LIED. By using a photo that was ten years old or fifty pounds ago or creatively lit, they deceived the other person into believing they were something they weren't. So not only do you have the problem of disappointment, but that person also feels deceived...and why would I want to have a second date with someone who deceived me into the first one?
Eventually you learn to filter out the obvious fakes. The guy who has one photo taken from a distance, in a baseball hat, with a soft-focus lens. The woman who is 38 but looks like she's 18...because she WAS when the photo was taken. The person who only posts photos from the neck up or far away or in very poor lighting. You look, you shake your head, you move on.
Even worse are the ones who have no photo. Why are you wasting your time and money? No one's going to pay any attention to you. It may sound shallow but most people look at the photos first, then read the person's details. Profiles without photos are mostly a waste of space. The way I look at it, if you're hiding what you look like, what else are you hiding? Perhaps you don't want your wife to know you're on there? Or you don't want us to see you look like Marilyn Manson...
As much as we all love wasting an hour of our time with someone who is repulsed by us, wouldn't it be a little better to put a series of realistic photos of ourselves up? Show ourselves the way they will see us when we walk through that door for the first time? Wouldn't you rather someone be pleasantly surprised than disappointed? I know I would.
The relationship seemed to be going well. As well as can be expected, anyway. Most relationships start off with an intense passion then die down into something a little more...comfortable. Once we reached the comfortable stage, I started having doubts. Was this the person I wanted to spend the rest of my life with? We rarely had sex anymore...how bad would it get once we were actually living together?
There came a point when I had serious doubts about staying with the person. But love was about compromise, about struggling to get through the hard times. You pick a person and, once you're committed, somehow fight to make it work? Right?
Why didn't I walk away? Because I'm not getting any younger. Because at some point you do begin to embrace the very popular opinion that if you don't grab someone, anyone, it's going to be too late. Because it's better to be with someone who is all wrong for you and find a way to make it work than to be alone.
Isn't it?
I know what happens if that relationship is allowed to continue. Day in, day out, you don't want to be with this person but there's no way out. You know somewhere out there is someone who is better for you, but you don't go there because you couldn't do anything about it anyway. You're committed and there's no way out.
We all have friends stay in a relationship everyone knows is bad, simply because they are afraid of being alone. Nine times out of ten, that friend will ONLY leave if she finds someone else. She has to leap from one pair of arms to another because leaping into that abyss alone is far too scary.
Then I see the opposite problem. I see people who bolt at every possible sign something might not work. They have a lifetime of first dates and four-month-long relationships and in their minds they say they just haven't found the right person. Meanwhile, dozens of "right persons" have floated through their lives; they just don't recognize that love takes a little work. They would rather be alone than put in that work.
Somewhere between those two extremes is a happy medium...and that is where we all should exist. Yes, we should look for that right person for us but we can't be so picky that we disregard someone because she chews her popcorn too loudly. We can't grab the first guy who proposes to us because we're worried if we don't get married now we'll never be able to have children. How do we find that middle ground?
Don't let go too soon.
Don't hang on too long.
Sometimes it's just impossible to know the difference.
When I was twelve, I developed a crush on a boy in my sixth grade class. I was sure he liked me too because I'd always catch him staring at me. It never turned into anything and by the time we reached seventh grade, I'd forgotten about that crush and moved onto someone else. Still, he will always be my first crush.
There were others over the years. Boys I would try so hard to impress. I couldn't wait to get to school every day to see Chad or Terry or Will. And then I got a job at a movie theater and my crush was a boy named John. He didn't know of my crush but he always picked on me and everyone thought we had a whole Sam and Diane thing going. A few of them were secretly rooting for us to get together. It never happened.
Later I thought back on all those years as "wasted time." Most of those crushes never turned into anything real. But then a couple of years ago someone said something that hit home to me. He was talking about a crush he'd had on a girl in high school who never liked him in return. In fact, she ridiculed him behind his back. One day he told her he loved her and she laughed at him.
"Didn't that upset you?" I asked.
"No, because I still loved her. That was my love, my happiness. She couldn't take that away from me."
The dictionary defines "unrequited" as "not returned or reciprocated." But unconditional love asks for nothing in return. Is it still love if the object of our affections never loves us back? Is it love if that person doesn't even know we exist?
Some say no. They say to truly love, it must be returned. But love, defined, is "a profoundly tender, passionate affection for another person." Never is it said that love must be a two-way street. Maybe love is just what it is...feeling that profound, tender, passionate affection for another person.
As they walk along, they create quite a stir. Beautiful woman, handsome man, their hands interlocked. Sometimes the couple might even have a third party with them -- a tiny baby in a stroller or a little child rushing to keep up. But it's clear to everyone they pass they are a couple.
So why is he looking at other women?
Any attractive woman has experienced it. That feeling of a man gawking at her, while his wife or girlfriend is right by his side. Sometimes you even look pityingly upon the unsuspecting girl next to him. You wonder, does he ever look at her like that anymore? Does he even see her?
Hey. That girl by your side? Yeah, each man you pass is gawking at her. You don't even see her, but every other man in that mall does. And the real irony is that she doesn't see them. She only has eyes for one man. That very lucky man? You.
I once thought that would make a great painting -- a statement on modern day relationships. Unfortunately, my artistry is in words, so I will paint the picture using my own artwork. Anyone who paints is free to steal the idea.
In this painting, two people are walking along, holding hands. The scenery all around them is breathtakingly romantic. They are not alone. People are passing, sitting on benches nearby, roller blading -- so maybe it's the park. The couple is young, attractive, and stylish...the woman more so than the man. Anyone looking at the painting would believe the man was lucky to have such a gorgeous woman.
But the man is not looking at the woman. His head is turned as he eyes the backside of a woman who has just passed. A woman who likely didn't even notice him. A woman who is no more beautiful than the woman whose hand he is holding. The woman next to him is not looking at the men walking past her, even though they are quite impressed with her. Her gaze is directly forward, a contented smile on her face. She is happy with the man she is with. She needs look nowhere else.
The message is clear. Do we even see the beauty that is ours? Or do we have to constantly long for what we do not have? After a while in a relationship, do we even see each other anymore?
The human mind craves order. We want to make sense of things. We want to believe in balance, rules...order. But perhaps often we create rules in an effort to force order where order doesn't exist.
Maybe it's just as our mommas taught us. Life is not fair, plain and simple. It just isn't. Sometimes the good guy gets laid off while the lazy jerk gets promoted. Sometimes the man doing the firing lands a huge raise, allowing him to buy that vacation home in the Bahamas he's always wanted.
Yes, some days you're the fly and some days you're the windshield. It can feel that way anyway. And as much as we want to believe that eventually all that bad luck will turn around on us, it's possible some people are just in for a lifetime of bad luck. At the same time, there are those people who land break after break. The millionaire who keeps winning the lottery or the girl who was born into privilege and never has to work a day in her life.
Karma is a Hindu concept, defining certain rules of "cause and effect." You want to believe if someone cuts you off in traffic the police will be waiting for him up the road. He'll be punished. But the original concept of karma wasn't that some spiritual force is waiting around to reward or punish you for your deeds. It is simply that if you do bad things, bad results will come. Many have extended this to say that if you put bad energy out there, you will attract bad energy to yourself.
All of it is just some metaphysical way of explaining life. If I drive recklessly and speed, chances are I will eventually get what's coming to me. Why? The law of averages. If I drive that way long enough, a cop is going to eventually get me. The same applies to that "bad energy." If I walk through life as a grump, how many good things will come to me? Not many. In fact, I'll probably alienate anyone who would want to befriend me, which will leave me alone and lonely...thus giving me further reason to be grumpy.
Will that man who left you at the alter or dumped you after finally convincing you to have sex with him ever get what's coming to him? Sure. You can bet, at some point in his life, he'll suffer. Either a woman will hurt him or a family member will die or his pet rabbit will hop out into rush hour traffic and go splat on the road. It's life. Good things and bad things happen to all of us.
We want to know that person who rejected us will live a long, lonely, miserable life in which he'll regret every day that he didn't stay with our wonderful selves. Wouldn't life be wonderful if that were the way it worked? But it doesn't work that way, so we must be content in knowing that someday that person will hurt. We want to believe some greater force is at work that will make sure that happens but it is my opinion no such thing exists. I believe in God -- and I don't believe God is looking down on us, pushing buttons to make bad things happen to bad people. If so, 9-11 would have never happened. Bad things happen to all of us, good and bad. Good things happen too. But the simple truth is, YOU determine what type of life you have, not by what happens to you but by how you react to it. A good, positive, friendly attitude can make life so much more pleasant. And, guess what? It's much easier to be positive and happy than negative and grumpy. Give it a try. Count your blessings. See if your life doesn't start to turn around.
After years of living together, one night they got in a fight and he left. Typical behavior -- sometimes it's best just to go away and cool down, right?
But she wasn't letting him off the hook that easily. She called. Asked where he was. He refused to tell her, so she began screaming into the phone that this behavior was unacceptable. He needed to come home, she told him...or else.
"Where are you?" she demanded to know.
"That doesn't matter."
He finally told her he didn't want to talk about it anymore. He wasn't coming home. He was done. He was tired of fighting; the relationship was over. At that point she began crying, begging for him not to do this. Her voice pained him but he truly was finished.
That's what he thought anyway.
Every time he'd hang up with her, the phone would ring again. At one point she heard a girl's voice in the background and asked who it was. He still wouldn't tell. She begged him to meet her somewhere, anywhere, to talk this out in person but he wouldn't do it. Finally he told her he was turning off his phone...and he did. And finally he got peace from the endless ringing.
The next morning he woke up and turned his cell phone on. He had 27 messages. 27 messages in eight hours. Messages begging him not to do this, reminding him of everything they'd shared, reviewing their years together. He listened and it tore at his heart but did he love her as much as he should? Was it fair to her to go back when he didn't truly love her as she deserved to be loved?
Even before he'd finished listening to the messages, the phone began ringing again. More pleas. She was no longer demanding to know where he was. Her voice alternated between angry and sad, but it was all tinged with desperation. She wasn't ready to lose him. Not yet.
Probably not ever.
Later that day she drove by his work to "drop off some of his belongings." That was how great a girlfriend she was, you see. She cared about him. But he knew the truth -- he knew she was hoping that seeing her again would remind him how much he loved her and he'd come back. She left him alone for a little while, left him to decide what he was going to do. And guess what he did?
He went back.
Did he really love her, as much as he should have? Did he go back to her for the right reasons?
Sometimes we're given a choice. Fight for the person we love or let them walk away. They say if you let someone go and they never come back to you, they were not yours in the first place. Sometimes they come back, but only because you manipulated them into it. Women threaten suicide, fake illnesses, beg and plead -- anything to keep a man from leaving. But if those ploys do work, it's only for a little while. And then what are you left with? A man who is only staying with you because you forced him to.
I see women making so many excuses for the men in their lives. He only cheated once -- it won't happen again. He's going to conquer that drinking habit eventually, when he's ready. He's just having a rough time at work right now -- as soon as things get better he'll be a better, more attentive husband, she knows he will.
All that matters is that she has him. He's in her home. She has as much of his heart as any woman ever could have.
But if she'd let him go, maybe she would have found someone who would love her with all his heart. Not just half.
He treated her well but occasionally he messed up, as boyfriends sometimes will do. He tried but he wasn't perfect. But that wasn't enough for our young lady. You see, this beautiful woman wanted to be treated like a queen. And she felt that her new man would do that, but first she must train him.
So, during their first big argument, she broke up with him.
He'd come back. She knew he would. They always did...and they always behaved a whole lot better that second time around. A woman just had to show her man what it was like to live without her.
True to form, after a few days of not speaking to her, he called her again. He apologized for his behavior and they made up. He couldn't live without her. She smiled smugly to herself. Yep, she'd won.
Things went along fine for a little while, but it was only a matter of time before he messed up again. Unacceptable, she told him. Straighten up or I'm leaving.
He didn't take well to threats and they had a huge fight. She was a beautiful woman, could have her pick of men. She "deserved" the very best. If he wasn't going to give it to her, she'd find someone who would. They stopped speaking and she went on with her life, but she was waiting... Waiting for that phone call that she knew would come.
And it did. But this time it took more than a week. Just long enough for him to think long and hard about what he'd done. He came back and things were shaky between them for a while but she knew in time things would get better. It was all part of the training process.
Restlessness began to creep in. Something wasn't right. He wasn't as adoring as he used to be. The light had gone out of his eyes. She tried nagging to get what she wanted, but that didn't work. He must have found someone else. She started driving by his house when he was supposed to be home. She made surprise visits to his work. She called him at random times during the day and when he didn't answer, she interrogated him about it later.
Well, the answer was clear. He was taking her for granted. She told him as much, but he didn't respond. He didn't even fight back this time. And this time, when she broke up with him to make a point, he didn't come back. He never called again.
And she was left wondering where she went wrong...
Every year we'd get her Christmas newsletter. She was a distant relative, but we were on her mailing list so once a year, we'd hear from her. And she'd provide me with a glimpse of what I never, ever wanted to become.
January was a rough month for her and her mom. Mom broke her left hip and they had to go to the hospital. Then in February, bursitis set in and she had to go to the doctor. He gave her some cream and she went home, but the tendonitis in her elbow flared up and she had to go back again. In March, Uncle Bo fell down some steps in the basement and broke his arm. It was tough going for a while but he healed pretty quickly and was up and about in time for...
April, when she and her mom had a yard sale. They sold some lamps and that throw rug in the bathroom that Uncle Norman had given them. In May, Jessie's daughter got married in Gatlinburg but they couldn't make it. You see, Mom's arthritis was getting pretty bad and they really needed to take it easy.
The rest of the year was about as riveting.
As I'd read her letters I'd think, who are all these people? You know, the ones who know which throw rug she's talking about and who Uncle Bo is and why there are so many "accidents" in that family. Is there some money in the will for this woman writing the newsletter? Maybe these accidents aren't so much accidents after all.
But no...it's just that illnesses are big news. Not just her illnesses but the illnesses of those all around her because, depressing though it may be, at a certain age we all start falling apart. And not much is going on in our lives at that point, so bursitis and arthritis and that ingrown toenail are all you've really got to talk about.
The bad news is, no one really wants to hear it.
Yes, I'm saying it. We don't. We don't care about your asthma and your butt fungus. We just don't. Tell us what you did yesterday, maybe some interesting books you've read recently. Tell us what talk show you watch every day or what candidate you're pulling for in the election. But, for the love of God, find something to talk about that isn't so damned depressing.
I once had a hypochondriac friend. She drove everyone around her crazy. It's one thing to have endometriosis and vulvodynia and asthma and eczema and migraines and fibromyalgia and... (deep breath.) It's quite another to tell us all about it every single day. Because, you know what? After a while it just gets old. It's the little boy who cried wolf and when you really do get sick what will we all say? "Aw hell, she's always got something wrong with her. What's for dinner?" Seriously. Because after a while people just stop caring.
All I'm going to say is, I give my mother and anyone else in my life permission to tell me someday, "Find some interests, Cassie. You're not living." Because, guess what? When you're obsessed with your illnesses you aren't living. You're dying. Day by day, one negative, miserable hour at a time...you're just withering away to nothing.
So slap that toenail back on with some super glue and go to the park and enjoy the beautiful evening.
