It seems not a day has passed for the past week or so that hasn’t made me say, “That calls for a blog”. I had a giveaway planned with the awesome ladies at http://www.Overtone.co, but had to push that back because the universe had other plans for me, but I will get back to setting that up as soon as I get all this out.
First order of business: Several celebrity women were the victims of a hacker, who stole and shared photos of them in various states of undress. Presumably, because, as an Academy Award winner, she is arguably the most famous of the victims, Jennifer Lawrence has become the unwitting forefront of this violation, though the victims include multiple women, including Victoria Justice, Kirsten Dunst, Ariana Grande, to name a few.
The story broke, being called a “SCANDAL”. What should be disturbing is, this label wasn’t referencing the theft and distribution of these picture. The SCANDAL being cited was that these pictures existed, in the private possession of these women. Rather than admonish the person(s) whom, without the knowledge or consent of these women, obtained and distributed their personal, private, intimate photos, the resounding response was to blame the victims. Evidently, if these women want to know where to point the finger of blame, they need to turn it at themselves for choosing to create the pictures. Since these women all possess some degree of celebrity status, there seems to be little consideration of even an eligibility for an expectation of respect, much less privacy. It seems that many people think that, if you are a public figure, you belong to the public and nothing is off-limits. This was nothing short of a cold serving of justice for women who would do the unthinkable by being human, with actual personal lives and sexual relationships and thinking they were entitled to privacy.
These women are public figures and, more importantly, they are attractive. What did they expect to happen when they took photographs in various states of undress with no mention of or intention of sharing them with the public? It’s like women think that they have the right to decide if, when, and with whom they share their bodies. When will we learn that, as women, we don’t belong to ourselves. If you have the audacity to demonstrate any ounce of sexuality, much less sexual agency, you have no one to blame but yourself. Just like, if you don’t want to get raped, don’t get drunk in tight clothes; if you don’t want people stealing your nude photos, don’t take nude pictures in complete privacy or protect them with logins and passwords. You’re just asking for it. Would you store your banking information online? Ha! I think not!
Another response that the invasion has sparked comes from those who, though they aren’t blaming the women, they think, since Jennifer Lawrence meets or exceeds the accepted standard of beauty, her response should be something like, “Fuck yeah, that’s me! Don’t hate me cuz you ain’t me, haterz”.
Other responses have included, “why isn’t there outrage when the woman down the street or the girl at school has her pictures stolen and passed around”, or “OMG! People are up in arms about stolen naked pictures and don’t give a shit about ISIS killing people!!!!”. To the first point, if you or I or any Janey Doe Public wants women, famous or not, to have legal recourse against these violations, it shouldn’t matter, nor be a surprise, if it comes from an event involving, not just one, but multiple women with the status, money, and influence to effect change. To the second point: I fucking hate the people who say this kind of shit. This is most likely the person that has, in the past, inundated your Facebook feed with Phil Robertson support memes, having made it clear with every defense of his, as well as, Chick-Fil-A and Paula Deen’s FREEDOM OF SPEECH, that they haven’t the foggiest understanding of what constitutes a violation of free speech. Today, though, they’ve decided any issue not involving human suffering or corrupt politics or anything else that the self-appointed “Matter-Meters” isn’t worthy of concern and, therefore, far too vapid a topic for Facebook. They are going to take the opportunity to mount their very high horse, named “Sanctimonious Dick Nipple”, and update their status to admonish all who have not mentioned civil unrest and political corruption, either in the US or abroad. You see, being concerned and outraged about crimes against women being perpetuated and excused and being aware of and concerned with incidents of violence, illness and corruption, here and abroad are mutually exclusive. Impossible. Like walking and chewing gum, I tell ya.
Stop blaming the women whose privacy was violated, whose property was stolen, who continue to be violated every time their pictures are sought out and viewed and shared. Those of you who seek out and distribute these pictures are no better than the person before you. You share in the culpability. These women are human beings. Their sexuality belongs to them. Their bodies belong to them. It is their choice, as it is any woman’s, when, how, and with whom they share their body, physically or otherwise.
I saw THIS LIST and, thought, “FINALLY”! Rules! It’s been so hard to know the rules of being a lady and worrying if I’m doing a good enough job to keep my man. This is a relief that a man has finally taken the time to mansplain this for us women. When I read it, though, it was hard to understand, so I asked my husband to come explain the hard parts and big words for me and I’m bringing you the Cliff’s Notes.
Also, I know the by-line says “John Smith”, but am I the only one that thinks that Romeo, aka “Sleepless in Austin” has resurfaced? I can hardly contain my excitement!
So, there are 13 rules:
1. DON’T BE A FATTY
Ask yourself: When you get naked, does blood flow rush to or retreat from his penis? If you argue the validity of the BMI scale, you’ve probably got an ass made of excuses and cellulite. Don’t get me wrong, we men don’t want a bag of bones! We want you to have fat tits! I’d go for a couple of hours of cardio but don’t do many chest presses because boobs. As far as diet goes, don’t starve yourself but just don’t enjoy anything you eat. Your man can describe the taste of food for you.
2. BE YOURSELF
Men don’t want you to change your hair color. We also prefer women without tattoos, only exceptions are dainty tattoos that can be hidden. Also, no piercings, unless it is something sexy like the belly button or tongue, one which will help our dicks pop from our pants when you are naked and the latter with which will help you get it back to normal.
3. BYOM-BRING YOUR OWN MONEY
We men understand that women are different from men, and lack any natural inclination towards ambitions like success or financial independence. We just want you to do the bare minimum here, so that you don’t have to depend on us financially. If you aren’t holding up that end, we men will make sure that you know that you are a financial drain and how much money we make compared to you, with diagrams and such to demonstrate the inequity of your income and your contributions. With that said, we do have egos that you need to coddle, so, if you happen to be in a higher income bracket, we don’t need you making a big deal about it and rubbing it in our face. That is a real boner killer. Nobody likes a boner killer.
4. ACT LIKE A LADY
Men don’t want to fuck manginas. We like lady vaginas.
5. SUBMIT IT OR HE’LL QUIT IT
This is part of acting like a lady. I don’t know where the whole idea of women submitting to men got such a bad rap. It doesn’t mean you can’t have an opinion or a voice. It just means we don’t want to hear about your opinion. I mean, is it asking too much that you women bend over backwards and sacrifice a little bit of yourself and your dignity if it means you keep a man? This feminism bullshit has resulted in a lot of women thinking that men have any fucks to give about her needs or thoughts or opinions. What do you like to eat? What he likes to eat. What is your favorite type of music? Whatever type is his favorite. What do you want to watch on TV? Whatever he wants to watch on TV. Shut the fuck up, unless you are asking which clipper guard he wants you to use on his back before his 6pm blowie. A good man will sometimes even let you watch a show you like; at least until you’re done sucking him off, then we want the controller back.
6. LIKE SEX–BUT NOT TOO MUCH
Imagine you’re locked in a room with a group of people and you’re all starving. Someone in the group finds a peppermint in their pocket that they forgot about and says he’ll suck on it for a second and pass it on, as will the next person and so on. You love peppermints. They are your favorite, but you are pretty far down the line and by the time the peppermint gets to you, it is pretty used up and even dirty and all you wished is that you could have been second, because he got it when the flavor was perfect but before it was possibly ruined by everyone else’s hands and teeth and spit. See, you are like that peppermint, ladies. We men know that you women like to think that you have sexual agency, like men, but that is just something sluts say to rationalize slutting around. You want to be able to have indiscriminate sex, with multiple partners, and not be judged? Cry about that to the big man in the sky and pray you sprout a dick, princess. Dicks are keys, pussies are locks and what good is a lock that works with any key? Also, just because women are taught, practically from birth, that sex is their primary source of power and control, don’t you wield it just because I’m reiterating that lesson.
7. BE INTELLIGENT
Men want women that are smart. Not smarter than us, though. Which is impossible anyways, so I don’t even know why I said that. LOL
8. BE FREE OF FUCK TROPHIES
This is the unspoken-spoken rule. Men don’t want women that have live in cock blockers. That goes double if you have multiple children and, if you have bi-racial children, don’t even breathe my oxygen. To think, you can just walk around with proof that you were penetrated by someone with dark skin—I shudder just thinking about it. I don’t care if the child’s father beat you, abandoned you, was good to you, or suffered a violent death. Everyone knows that when a man ends a relationship with the mother of his children, it also means he no longer wants to be a father. Men know that single women with children are only out there looking for replacement daddies for their children and want to trick you into taking responsibility.
FUN FACT: I’m an idiot that probably frequent a lot of MRA sites, since I think that simply forming a relationship with a child is grounds for legal enforcement of parental responsibility. I won’t explain or I’m ignorant to the significant details and extenuating circumstances involved in cases in which such precedent was set but what’s important is that you know, like I know, that women are all evil and only want your baby batter and/or your money to support their vagina shredders.
9. FEED ME OR I’LL STARVE
I don’t know why women’s progress has made domestic excellence so insignificant. I want a woman who will cook for her man! f I wanted a microwave meal or takeout, I’d ask you to take care of that for me. Oh, like I can just feed myself? Yeah, okay. I’m a man, man!
10. PAY ATTENTION TO ME!
Men understand that you like to look pretty and want everyone to tell you how pretty you are via “likes” on social media. Some may argue that seeking such validation on a regular basis would indicate that you aren’t receiving it enough from us, but that is ridiculous. It’s your job to boost your man’s confidence, not the other way around. If you put your phone down, you might notice that there is a hard, throbbing, knob right by your face, longing for your attention. When my friends and I go out, we stack all of our phones in the center of the table, so we can be with the friends that ARE there. I saw it on Pinterest. Now, we are engaged with each other, rather than our electronics and can get to the important stuff like getting fucked and sucked.
11. COOL IT, BOZO
I realize that some of this may sound demeaning, so I thought of something that sounds empowering and sensitive to women. You don’t need all that makeup, girl. Don’t support an industry that makes billions telling you that you aren’t good enough. Leave that to us men. You’re beautiful! It’s only unattractive when you wear too much makeup, or your bodies don’t look airbrushed, you have children, do black guys, don’t cook, or don’t want to have sex when your man wants to have sex. As long as all that and your vagina is copacetic, you’re perfect the way you are!
12. STOP FUCKING CURSING
Since I was a sailor, I know how sailor’s curse, and nobody likes a lady that cusses like one, even a lady sailor. If you want to be treated like a fucking lady, you better goddamn act like one, bitch. I don’t respect women at all, but I have no tolerance for vaginas with potty mouthed heads.
13. STOP THINKING THAT MEN SEE YOU AS ANYTHING MORE THAN A COCK HOLSTER
Men aren’t capable of a platonic relationship with women. At all. If a man forms a friendship with you, it is all a rouse to get into your pants. First of all, women are incapable of possessing or developing any traits, interests, skills or wisdom that would be of any interest to a man. He wants to pet your squish mitten. That’s all. I’ve had several relationships end because one of my girlfriend’s “guy friends” told her things like, “he doesn’t seem to respect you”, “if he cursed you out for cursing, that’s insane”, or “you’re a person and you should be treated with dignity”. These assholes filled these girls’ heads with this kind of bullshit, making them think they were worthy of more, and they left me. They think that they gave them this advice because they cared about them as a person, rather than their vaginas. It’s not about having trust issues. It’s about not wanting other people to provide any insight or encouragement to independent thought that might come between my relationship with your vagina.
I speak for all men. Any argument against any of these rules is void. If you have a man, in spite of straying from this formula, it’s because he is settling, even though, deep down, he is miserable.
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I’M BACK! Excited? I’ve been on hiatus and just waiting for inspiration and then today I read THIS . I decided to do an interpretive blog.
Ohmygosh! I said that?! I typed the word “tits”! I can’t even say that word, y’all! When I tell people the title, I whisper “the t-word” as I discreetly point to my sin pillows. Then I feel awful when I suddenly remember that drawing any attention to my body, especially parts like my devil lumps, has the potential to destroy lives!
I think back to my Bible school days, when I learned to be ashamed of my body, like a proper lady. They would teach us about “inappropriate” touching, which was any touch not intended as discipline, even with my own hands! That lesson led to years of turmoil and guilt with regards to things like using toilet paper.
My Dad was such a square. He wouldn’t let me wear anything that was too short, or too tight, or too long, or too loose. I even went to doctor after doctor, hoping someone, anyone would be able to diagnose the cause of the heaving in my bosom. Daddy was always so worried about it, but, sadly, there is little known about this condition, other than it affects near 100% of women with breasts, and there is no treatment or cure, but I digress. Like I was saying, Daddy would veto everything I wore, even if it was brand new, telling me I looked too sexy, and to change. Then that was too sexy and so on and so forth. He would take all my sexy clothes away and keep them in his secret hiding spot in his room. One time I got a pair of stretchy khaki pants. I know! Khaki?! SLUT ALERT! AMIRITE?! Anyways, my Dad took them away immediately. He didn’t even see them on; he just saw khaki and called me harlot and snatched them away. I snuck in his room and stole them back and wore them to school the next day. After walking to class and having three (cough) gentlemen whistle at me and say perverse things like, “Daaaaaaaaamn girl”, I realized that I had caused those young men, my peers, to have impure, lustful thoughts. That’s when I realized that my daddy had good reason for taking those pants. I mean, what if one of those boys, incited with lust because of my tight, camel colored pants, had lost control and raped me? That would have been my fault! What was I thinking? I knew I was lucky. What’s worse, is one of those boys, a freshman, had a girlfriend. They broke up our junior year and I’ve never gotten over the guilt that my khaki audacity was the ultimate cause of that relationship’s demise.
My point is, I’m not writing this to tell teenage girls to respect themselves and their bodies. I mean, everybody is spreading that message, and it’s important and all, but no one is actually talking about HOW to instill this in our girls. I think it is obvious that, if we want to teach young girls and women self-respect and dignity, we need to start with instilling shame. If you start early, girls will internalize these values, learning to hate and fear their bodies, which will soon translate into them shaming and judging their peers, which is sure to continue on into adulthood and beyond.
I’m getting off track. What I’m saying is, I’m not writing to say you shouldn’t post pics of you in a bikini at the beach, even though there are plenty of modest options for a self-respecting lady spending a day at the beach, like sweat pants and a nice oversized vacation Bible school t-shirt.
All I’m saying is, I am married. When we stood before God, my husband and I cemented our commitment. We took vows, for Pete’s sake. Yet here we are today, and I am fighting for our marriage, fighting for our family, fighting for our lives! This isn’t because we can’t keep our vows, it’s because all of you are disregarding them! So, if you don’t mind, STOP SHOWING MY HUSBAND YOUR TITS!
If I was thin, with a flat stomach and perky ta-tas, I’d totally be taking pics of myself in every state of undress, practically NAKED even, and showing them to everyone with a set of eyes or internet access. But I’m NOT, so I CAN’T! I have to wear a bathing suit/dress combination and there is no instagram filter that will make me not hate my body, okay?!
So, what I’m saying is, I don’t blame you for having the confidence to wear that string bikini. I think it is great that you are so self-assured that you even posted a picture so we can all see your perfectly toned body, clad only in a bikini. You are rocking that bikini too, girl! You look amazing! If I had your body, I’d live in a bikini all day, errrrday! It would be my Christmas card! If I could make one request, though, I’d appreciate it if you could take a cue from me and find a way to replace a heaping helping of your confidence with some normal, healthy, crippling insecurity, which would prevent you from, at minimum, sharing your bikini pictures on social media, if not keep you from ever being seen in public in one ever again. See? I’m not unreasonable!
I am not judging! Not at all. I just want you to stop trying to destroy my marriage and break up my family.
When I log onto social media, I just scroll through and scroll through, until something catches my attention. Most times, it is one of you in a bikini or skimpy clothes, so I zoom in and zoom in and zoom in and–damn–that is as far as my zoom works? I thought the Ipad was supposed to be top of the line, but I don’t see how they got that reputation when the zoom capabilities could only be rivaled by an etch a sketch.
Mostly, I’m just examining your picture from every angle, at full zoom, piece by piece, praying, “please, God, I just need to find a stretch mark or a dimple to validate my hangups and insecurities. Amen” . Then I just scroll on and–you know–lather, rinse, repeat.
So, as you can see, I’m cool. Your pictures don’t hurt me. Want to know who you’re hurting? My husband. That’s who. You see, he is just a man. Like all men, he lacks the emotional capacity that is required for certain abilities, like exercising self-control or recognizing women as human beings. For men, the information processes do not continue past visualization. I read somewhere that the gravitational pull on the peen and balls is what is responsible for this significant difference between men and women, but I’m sure they teach that in biology or something. So, with that knowledge, you should know that when my husband sees those images of you, with your long, tan legs and flat, toned stomach, it is etched in his memory indefinitely. I can forget your picture and move on. He doesn’t have that luxury. His eyes see it and, if his eyes like it, those eyes will store it in a spank bank (whatever that is–some medical term, I guess, but it sounds horrible) and will show it to him again and again.
Obviously, I’m not saying this is your fault! It absolutely isn’t. It’s also not my husband’s fault, though. My man diverts his eyes at ninja speed when he sees such images appear on his social media feed, posted by those that he voluntarily follows. I know some of you will say, “why doesn’t he just unfollow or hide people he doesn’t want on his feed”, but obviously those that would ask that question forget that he is a MAN. Tell that to his EYES! Okay? Think of it this way. My husband does not want to see your taut body and your full perky breasts, contained only by a minuscule piece of fabric and string. He turns away. You post another one. He tries not to see it but you keep giving him more to see, which he’ll never unsee! You’ve caused him, against his will and amid his protest, to SIN! You caused him to sin in his mind, in his heart, and, probably, in his hand. I’ll be glad when the day comes when I can call to report my husband being EYE RAPED again and they don’t laugh, hang up on me, fine me, or, especially, take me for another 72 hour hold. I hate those. This is serious and all of you are just getting away with it!
I remember Memorial Day, my feeds were inundated with barely covered, perfect breasts and dimple-less ass cheeks. I vaguely remember giving him a subtle heads up as I hurried out the door. It’s summertime! Beware of Satan’s whores that rely on Instagram to tempt you to sin. They are blowing it up with their half-naked pictures with different filters. That was all it took. From that point on, for a couple of weeks or so, he isolated himself in the bathroom or the bedroom. Protecting his heart. Protecting his eyes. Evidently, he replaced that time which he’d have spent on social media with a new-found attention to skin care, because he was using so much lotion during that time.
I know you’re not destroying my life on purpose. Of course! I know that! COME ON! I’m not crazy! You’re misunderstanding me! So, if you don’t mind staying in my share circle a little longer, there is one more thing.
I don’t have any noticeable amount of self-esteem. Since my puritanical upbringing meant that I was objectified from an early age, resulting in me objectifying myself, I was firmly instilled with the understanding that my body was not really mine. My body was for men, and my choices concerning it were two-fold: conceal it, covered away, as a gift for my future husband, or flaunt it, as a weapon, causing men to lust, and hope I’m lucky enough to avoid being raped. Since “love”, for men, has no emotional basis, only visual, the very site of your newest photo upload could be grounds for divorce. I’ve carried and birthed our child, so I have some stretch marks and jiggly parts and if my husband notices the difference, it’s curtains because sex is all I can bring to the table! Oh, I know! He’ll just love me for who I am as a person. SNORT! Yeah! Sure! Okay!
When he gets in our bed and he wraps his arms around me and says he loves me, I know what is really going on! I’m not stupid! I saw your picture with your bare shoulders and legs that go all the way up to your vagina. I know he couldn’t possibly love me after seeing that, and comparing it with my flappy arms, and stretch marks or my new-found ability to hold 3 pencils under my breast! I know his eyes saw your picture and he is just trying to stifle his gag reflex long enough to gain access into my penis cozy.
That point in the day inevitably arrives, where we end up having the same conversation every other married couple eventually has, I assume. I’m screaming, crying and telling him, “I’m ugly and you hate me, don’t you! You’re in love with Carol, aren’t you? Just say it! I saw you liked her pool picture on Instagram. DID YOU THINK I WOULDN’T FIND OUT? Why don’t you love your family?”, and he’s looking all innocent and confused, denying it, trying to hug me and say he loves me and he’d never leave me and lots of other bullshit to try to appease me, probably just hoping to buy time until he can hide money in a Swiss account and buy Carol and him a new house.
So, look. If I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a thousand times: I’m NOT judging you! That should be obvious! I get it! You just want to share your life through words and pictures with friends and family. You want to take that group picture that includes you, wearing your new *modest* triangle string bikini at the lake to share now and, also, have to look back at, years down the road.
Read my lips: NO JUDGEMENT HERE!
But, if you have a shred of decency, you will get your tits out of my marriage! All I’m asking is that you respect that we are unwilling to modify, limit or eliminate our social media interactions or access based on what is in the best interest of my mental health or our marriage. That is selfish and unreasonable for you to suggest such a thing. The problem is all of you, shoving your teardrop shaped titskis all up in my poor husband’s face, which, might I add, has been occurring ever since we chose to follow you! Coincidence? I think not. We just want to keep our hearts and minds pure and live happily ever after, but how are we supposed to do that if you won’t stop being thinner or fitter, with better, perkier boobs than me all while having a social media life? IT’S MY MARRIAGE AT STAKE, DICK! You are trying to take my husband away. You are taking a father from his daughter! Think about me!
Look in the mirror. Look at your social media posts. Ask yourself: Are you an eye rapist?
No judgment. Blessings and love. You whores probably just need to know someone cares. I’ll ask around.
This week, a high school in Texas, Richardson High School, finally took the bull by the horns and decided to take a break from worthless bullshit like English and Math and focus on teaching a lesson with some actual value, courtesy of a man by the name of Justin Lookadoo. Many may call him just a motivational speaker, but one look at his hair and you can just tell he is selling himself short, and once you hear his message to today’s youth, you know that he is so much more. Justin Lookadoo has the answers to the problems that plague our society. If you’ve ever looked around and thought the world was going to hell in a handbasket and asked yourself, “why”, look no further. Justin here knows that if there is going to be any change in the world, you gotta start with the kids and that is where he has, smartly, chosen to focus his energy and his wisdom. I’m so tired of everyone asking my kids about how they like school or their favorite subject. I don’t want my kids concerning themselves with trivial horseshit like grammar or scientific theory; intellectual pursuits are just pretentious. There I said it. When all is said and done and the shit really hits the fan, fuck intelligence. What really matters is their relationship potential. I want them to ask themselves Justin’s question, “Are you DATEABLE“. Thankfully for our kids, especially our daughters, Justin has outlined some basic rules in his books and WEBSITE, which explain how “dateable” girls and boys act and interact.
DATEABLE GIRLS RULES:
Accept your girly-ness. You’re a girl. Be proud of all that means. You are soft, you are gentle, you are a woman. Don’t try to be a guy. Guys like you because you are different from them. So let your girly-ness soar.
I’m just glad someone finally said it. I, for one, am sick and fucking tired of girls trying to be guys by doing shit like wearing blue or pants or using hammers and screwdrivers, changing tires and excelling at math and science. When a girl doesn’t like pink or wants to talk about politics, rather than how she likes to wear her hair, I want to reach down and do a dick check. Start making a list of names for your future cats.
Girls don’t fight girls, ever. Revenge belongs to God. Dateable girls know that when they fight other girls they look stupid and catty, and guys don’t like it any more than God does.
It’s seems more and more that girls are less and less concerned about what everyone else thinks, and, especially, how guys are perceiving their behavior. It’s appalling. I have even heard parents telling their daughters the reasons to avoid fights is shit like, “there are better ways to solve a problem” or “it could lead to some pretty major, long-term, consequences like suspension or even jail” but, WHO THE FUCK CARES?!? If the possibility of fucking up their dateablility won’t keep them on the straight and narrow, you might as well let go of any hope for future grandchildren right now.
Be mysterious. Dateable girls know how to shut up. They don’t monopolize the conversation. They don’t tell everyone everything about themselves. They save some for later. They listen more than they gab.
I’d just like to know when girls started thinking that boys wanted them to participate in a conversation? Who started this rumor? It’s almost like girls these days view themselves as persons and think that an interested boy will find any intrinsic value in intelligence or personality, as if they believe they hold any personal value, much less have anything relevant she could possibly have to contribute within a conversation with one equipped with a penis. It’s just ree-fucking-diculous that this even has to be explained. You’ve got a vagina and a mouth. The boys are interested in one of your holes, but it won’t last long if you can’t keep the other hole closed, Chatty Cathy.
Let him lead. God made guys as leaders. Dateable girls get that and let him do guy things, get a door, open a ketchup bottle. They relax and let guys be guys. Which means they don’t ask him out!!!
God MADE guys leaders. Leadership is divinely built into them. Women are not. We weren’t provided the characteristics of leadership. God wanted men to lead and women to follow. Which is why girls must learn to ALLOW guys to do all the important, leadery things. Dateable girls don’t try to do manly, leader things like opening doors or condiments. Oh, you can open your own ketchup? So, are you just a regular bitch or a lesbian bitch? Either way, you are undateable but if you are the latter, Justin has some summer camp suggestions for your parents to look into.
I admit, I ‘ve faltered on this one. I have a jar opener thingamajiggy doohickey mounted under one of my cabinets but I am uninstalling it immediately after this reminder. I’m riddled with guilt just thinking of all these years that I’ve inadvertently emasculated my husband one screw lid at a time. I only hope he can find it in his heart to forgive me.
Obviously, it goes without saying that only sluts and whores ask a guy out. First, it involves talking and second it is acting like a leader and if don’t have a hog in your pants, you can’t lead. Stand back and look like a quiet, weak girl who hates homosexuals and ketchup and loves Jesus and fornication.
Need him. Dateable girls know that guys need to be needed. A Dateable girl isn’t Miss Independent. She knows we are made for community. Needing each other is part of faith. She allows him to be needed at times, knowing he was called to serve just as much as she was.
I can only hope that my daughter is lucky enough to attract the attention of boys that are insecure, weak, and self-centered, requiring her to stifle her own personality, silence her voice, allowing herself to be subjugated to appease and coddle his fragile ego.
DATEABLE GUY RULES:
Being a guy is good. Dateable guys know they aren’t as sensitive as girls and that’s okay. They know they are stronger, more dangerous, and more adventurous and that’s okay. Dateable guys are real men who aren’t afraid to be guys.
Dateable guys are manly men. They don’t do girly things like giving a fuck about shit, except danger and adventure or dangerous adventures. They’re only good at two things: fucking bitches and fucking shit up.
Control your mind. Dateable guys know that God demands self-control. They learn ways to control their minds so they can control their bodies.
In other words, don’t masturbate. Dateable guys don’t have vaginas, and that includes hand-ginas.
Don’t just want a win, want an adventure. Dateable guys know life is about danger. You might not win, but that’s not the point, doing it is. Dateable guys risk failure to live the adventure of life.
Dateable guys know that dateable girls love, love, love guys that are unpredictable, reckless, irresponsible, fly by the seat of the pants, kind of guys. Live on the edge. Jump out of planes, play Russian roulette and don’t balance your checkbook. Bitches will be lining up.
Men of God are wild, not domesticated. Dateable guys aren’t tamed. They don’t live by the rules of the opposite sex. They fight battles, conquer lands, and stand up for the oppressed.
Real men don’t follow rules. As a matter of fact, any guy that even bothers to read his list of rules should turn off the Cher album and just go sign themselves up for straight camp because you just failed the REAL MAN test you didn’t even know you were taking.
Keep it covered up. Dateable guys know that porn is bad for the spirit and the mind. They keep women covered up.
If a girl won’t cover up, dateable guys call her a “slut” or “whore”, in hopes of shaming her into their standard of modesty. It’s important for girls to know that they are responsible for keeping guys’ thoughts and acts pure and to ensure that they do nothing that could cause a guy to give her a starring role in a mental porn scene.
If you want to find out about your own dateability, boys and girls, Justin has provided a quiz: SPOILER ALERT, LADIES: If you answer “yes” to any of your questions, you can start your cat collection now. Now, for those of you looking at the guys’ quiz, you might think those last few questions would be correctly answered by saying you HAVE both agreed to physical limits and that he DOESN’T push the physical boundaries and absolve himself of responsibility or self-control, and disagreed with the “if she loved me, she will” ideology, but you’d be wrong. The only people who wouldn’t get that are whiny, weak, ketchup craving lady babies. Guys have dicks, man. That is what makes guys better. We girls are made to be like an otterbox for a dick. A cock cozy, essentially. Dudes are always down to fuck. They want to—nay, NEED to dip their wicks. Luckily, girls don’t have any sexual urges or desires, so it is up to us to try to keep ourselves and boys virtuous, both in thought and action, but also remain dateable by letting them do stuff like rub your boobs or, if you really love him or he is super popular or really hot, at least finger bang you. Guys won’t go to hell for fornicating, only masturbating, so they can get in where they fit in and be fine.
Girls need guys and guys want girls, but not for conversation or companionship. Mostly for a place to stick their dicks. It just is what it is, so accept it. Be girly and stop trying to be guys by opening shit. You stand at the door and wait for a man to come open it. You eat your goddamn burger dry or wait for a fucking guy to come open that bottle. Put on some lip gloss and shut your fucking mouth. Your interests, your opinions, even any life threatening allergy is of no interest to real men. At least none that you should be willing to date. When you can make a helicopter with your lady clam, maybe then you’ll understand the special level of wisdom and strength exclusive to guys.
Guys, be strong and tell her whose boss. Girls love it when you tell them to “shut the fuck up” or cancel plans at the last-minute or hit on other girls when you are out with them. It shows you are a dangerous, desirable man and drives girls wild. If a girl won’t put out, tell her that if she loves you, she would and make her realize how lucky she is to have you by cheating on her, so she knows that if she won’t give it up, you’ll find a girl who will. And, of course, first and foremost, treat girls with respect.
RAISE YOUR HAND IF YOU ARE CONTACTING YOUR PTA TO DEMAND THEY BRING JUSTIN TO MOTIVATE YOUR KIDS!
I’ve decided that my true calling in life is to be some kind of life coach; a guru, if you will. I didn’t come to this conclusion overnight, though. I have spent a lifetime studying this craft, without even realizing it, devouring knowledge as I poured through the pages of important and informative literature, like Cosmopolitan, and Seventeen. I’ve always felt I had a higher purpose, to help people and truly make a difference in the lives of others, and it finally hit me that this was the path I was being shown to fulfill that purpose. At this point, I feel that my point of view and life experience gives me an insight to advise the general public on the personal issues that plague them in a manner far superior than anyone currently taking up space in this profession. I know that you can’t just take me at my word, so I’ve decided that this will be my “audition piece”, if you’d be so kind to indulge me.
I’ve taken questions from other columns and will answer them correctly. I’m going to change lives.
ADVICE COLUMN SUBMISSION:
I’ve been engaged for two years and can’t figure out whether I should marry this guy. When we moved in together six months ago, he called the police when he feared my cat—who is fully declawed—was going to attack him. Recently, I came home from work to find he had thrown my computer into a Dumpster. “It crashed” was his excuse. He’s also impossible to get along with and has lied about his age, his previous marriages (two, not one), and the paternity of his only son.
His good qualities: He pays the rent and is adventurous, polite, and good in bed. I have an insane attraction to him, but why do I have so many doubts? I wonder if there is a man alive who wouldn’t piss me off on a regular basis.
I’m sure a lot of people will tell you that a guy who tries to file attempted assault charges against cats is overly dramatic, at best, or, at worst, possibly delusional, bordering on bat shit crazy. You say the cat is declawed, but unless you say that the cat is de-toothed, a threat existed. I hope that your cat was arrested and prosecuted because I, for one, am sick and tired of cats getting away with shit like that.
Next, you returned home from work to find he had thrown away your computer after it “crashed”. I’m sure some people would right away see this explanation as an obvious attempt to blow smoke up your ass, probably implying or outright suggesting that he had probably sold it for drugs or a piece of ass. I just need to know the specifics of the “crash”. For me, if the internet goes down for any reason, I throw my computer in the trash. I threw away a brand new computer once because, while in the middle of a really funny YouTube video, the computer suddenly just died. Just like that. I, of course, smashed it to a melody of curse words, some real, some made up in the heat of the moment, and then threw it directly into my neighbor’s trash can (it was trash day and ours’ was still all the way at the end of the driveway). Of course, I realized shortly after that my toddler had unplugged it from the wall but how was I supposed to know that? I’m not in the I.T. business and I’ll bet your fiance isn’t either. Think about that.
So he told a few little lies. Big deal. People are so hung up on honesty. Did he have a good reason to lie? That is what matters. Why is his age even any of your business? What are you a fucking cop or something? As far as the previous marriages: Were either or both of his ex-wives more attractive than you? It’s possible he was just trying to protect you because you are obviously crippled with insecurity and jealousy issues. Maybe you’re impossible to get along with. Maybe you have a tendency to be a bitch about these issues and don’t realize it. Some food for thought.
You answered your own question at the end there, toots. You have this man who pays rent, probably says “thank you” after spunking on your face, and gives you a good dickin and you have the audacity to reconsider marrying him because of petty shit like lying about being married and having children? To answer your final thought: Probably not. You sound suspicious and high maintenance.
What do you do if you accidentally, in the throes of passion, tell a guy you love him too soon when you totally don’t? Pretend it didn’t happen? Hahahahah.
Are you new? If you want to have a successful relationship built on trust and mutual respect, you should be hacking into his email, checking his texts and call records, and monitoring his Facebook on a regular basis. You could even get a friend that he’s never met to hit on him, maybe at a bar or club when you aren’t with him, and report back to you if they make out or have sex. Now, if you catch him snooping in your shit, drop him like a bad habit. You don’t want to waste your time on a guy that would act so jealous and possessive.
I’ve been dating two men for the past year – with their knowledge. Neither wants a full-time relationship (all three of us divorced recently, so are still bruised). I know I should feel lucky with two lovers, but I’m starting to feel torn about having sex with one man, then another, with nothing deeper developing. What should I do?
I’m going to clear out my voicemail because I know that my phone is going to be blowing up with job offers.
WHO NEEDS SOME ADVICE?
Let me preface this by saying, the only time I’ve ever wished I wasn’t married was yesterday, when I first laid eyes on a dreamboat that calls himself “Sleepless in Austin”, aka Romeo Rose. As soon as I clicked the link, the first thing to greet me on the home page was Adonis, in the flesh, I was mesmerized by his soulful eyes. I didn’t even realize I had been tracing the outline of his teeth with my fingernail for who-knows-how-many minutes, until a Twitter alert snapped me out of my daze.
First off, ladies, wouldn’t it be awesome to be able to brag to your friends that your boyfriend paid $1500 for you? That’s high society status shit, right there.
When I came across a picture of him with a guitar and realized he was a fucking rock star too, my loins quivered. I cried out for more. MORE! MORE! YES! MORE! My lust for Romeo turned into full-blown love when I read his lovelorn plea for help. It was like that shit you see in movies falling in love, His words brought tears to my eyes. He doesn’t want to be Forever Alone. He is looking for the love of his life; someone he can fall in love with and, hopefully, spend the rest of his life with. Showing that he is so much more than just hot bod and pretty face, his describes to any potential matchmakers the characteristics he searches for in a woman. With this poetry, he showed his ability to step out of that “masculine” comfort zone, and be sensitive and vulnerable, while holding to a respectable and reasonable level of standards, making him the total package.
I’d divorce my husband, and point my car to Austin with only the clothes on my back, if I thought he would have me but, sadly, I’m not worthy. I’m going to share this with you, my readers, in hopes that my loss if your gain; that the lucky lady might be amongst all of you. All I’d ask in return is to live vicariously through your stories and anecdotes. Oh, and the $1500.
Once you read his words, you will know his heart. You will fall in love, as I did. You may also, like me, find yourself opening his picture to full screen view, and rubbing your computer screen all over your writhing, naked body; demurely explaining to the picture on the screen that you’ve never done anything like this before, as you shove his frozen image down and over your breasts, then sliding it down between your thighs, unable to stifle the moans of lust and desire. You’ll say, “No one has ever made me feel like this before”, and, “MORE TEETH. PLEASE, GOD, MORE TEETH”. then, as you lay there trembling, curled into a quivering ball of satisfied ecstasy, you rub your fingertip up and down the screen, along the front of his pants, warming him up for round 2.
Okay, where was I? Is it hot in here to anyone else? No? Okay, let’s just move on. So, here goes, ladies: Could YOU be the woman of his dreams?
First and foremost, his dream girl is attractive, which I’d assume is a high ranking bullet point on most people’s “wish list”. He is too sensible to be so vague, though. He prefers a certain aesthetic.
I like girls that are thin, or with a toned or athletic build. A average build is fine too, just as long as you are not over weight. I will not date a overweight or fat girl.
I realize that the average person will read this and think, “what an ass”. Romeo, though, isn’t your average guy. He is a genetic fucking masterpiece. LOOK AT HIM! He wasn’t conceived with sperm and an egg. He was created from angel tears and unicorn piss. You don’t just jiggle up to a man like this. You get your ass to the gym if you want a piece of that!
I like girls that are 130 pounds or less. Of course weight needs to be in proportion to their height, as long as they aren’t considred overweight, they should be fine. Being overweight is a total dealbreaker with me.
See! He isn’t looking for perfection! He just isn’t into fatties. It’s not personal, people! He is looking for someone to possibly spend his life with here. He is obviously concerned about long-term health outcomes and knows that morbid obesity is a life threatening risk factor. I know that a lot of people are saying that 130 lbs doesn’t make one overweight, much less obese, but you’re obviously in denial. Look, the long and short of it is, If your ass is fat, you ain’t getting with that.
I also like girls with long hair. I like a girl to look like a girl, not a man, I like a feminine, pretty girl. I like hair down to the shoulders at least. Sometimes I can make exceptions if it is shorter depending on how it looks on the girl. But for the most part, I love long hair.
He wants a lady looking lady, so hair MUST be long, like lady hair. He’s a rock star, man. Don’t you understand that? His hair is a bit long, sort of like a lady’s short cut, so when he is out with you, he wants to make sure everyone can tell that he is THE MAN in a heterosexual couple, rather than mistake him for the lady or, worse, have people peg y’all for a lesbian couple.
Redheads are my favorite, next is Brunettes, and next is Blondes, in that order. I like all 3, but I’m just saying if I had to choose, that’s my order of preference.
Congratulations, gingers. You win this round. Well, only if you’re skinny with long ginger locks. If you’re fat with a bob cut, the skinny, long-haired, blond is gonna win.
I will not date a Black girl. I don’t care if she looks like Halle Berry, I will not ever date a Black girl.
Uhhhhh-wow, okay——hmmmmmm…Well, I mean, are you going to let a little blatant racism stand in the way of love?
However, I will date any other race, Hispanic, Mexican, Spanish, Russian, Italian, French, European, White, whatever, anything except Black.
See! He isn’t racist! It’s just black women that he finds offensive and repellant! Wait, what…
I do not like glasses on a girl. Although, it’s not a dealbreaker, as long as she can wear contacts at least most of the time.
Who isn’t turned off by a “four eyes”? You can’t be attractive WHILE wearing glasses. Facts are facts.
I do not ever want to have kids, so if a girl is wanting to have babies, I am not her man.
His sperm is sacred. Mere humans are unworthy and incapable of spawning with his seed.
I do not like tattoos on a woman. If a woman already has tattoos, it may not be a deal breaker unless she plans to get more in the future. If a woman has something small and feminine like a butterfly or rose already on her ankle or something then it may not necessacerily (sic) be a dealbreaker. And it would also help if she would consider having them laser removed, something I might would even pay to have done for her.
Nothing says ROMANCE AHEAD like a Groupon for tattoo removal.
To me, tattoos just represent white trash or somone that’s been in prison. I do not care for following trends like mindless sheep and getting tats just because what ever Star on TV got them, they will always be a symbol of White Trash. The Female human body is the most beautiful work of Art God ever created, to tattoo it with ink is the same as vandalising a famous Monet painting with a can of spray paint!
No offense. Like he said, it may NOT be a deal breaker. He may be willing to slum it if you’re white trash with a BMI considered “underweight”, you have long red hair, are any color but black, and your trash tags are dainty symbols of femininity.
I do not like strippers! I will not date any girl that has ever been a stripper. I believe that the only person that should ever see a womans naked body is only her boyfriend or husband.
It says right there in the Bible, “Thou shalt only show your boobs and squish mitten to your husband or boyfriend or really hot guys when you’re drunk”.
I will not date any girl that has ever had a threesome, or a large number of past sexual partners. I do not want a promiscuous slut, I want a normal, decent, good hearted girlfriend.
I’m glad to see he opposes crazy, evil, sluts. Everyone knows that only heartless psycho women exhibit any degree of autonomous sexual agency.
I prefer a girl that does not smoke, but as long as she does not smoke in my house or around me, if she can go outside and smoke, then I can live with that. I lived with my ex girlfriend for Eleven years, and she was a smoker.
It is NOT weird that a fat ass and black skin are deal breakers but smoking is fine. You’re just jealous.
I will not date any girl if she is still friends with any men that she has been intimate with in the past, I believe once a relationship with someone is over, it’s OVER.
It is a scientific fact that once a guy has touched your boobs or his erection has been in or near your vagina, friendship is an impossibility. Even if it was years and years ago, and you’ve never reconsidered your romantic compatibility, your vagina has dick memory and if you hang out with any guy(s) who imprinted on your cock pocket , the vagina has the ability to take control of your mind and, next thing you know, you realize you just cheated on your man. /scienced
I do not like sarcastic or cynical people, I do not like people that always think negatively either, so that type of girl would also not be a good match for me.
Hating fat people and black people is NOT cynical, nor negative. It’s just not.
I do not expect a girl to agree with all of my beliefs or opinions etc, but I do not like to argue, and it’s very important that we can live in peace together if at some point the girl & I live together. I like to live in a quiet & peaceful environment. That is extremely important to me.
A lady knows that a good man doesn’t need nor want to hear about her opinions, especially if they are of the dissenting kind. Even if you agree, even slightly, a simple head nod or a, “you’re right about that” will suffice. A doctor once told me that women who think too much may get fat and/or lose their hair. Think about that.
I like a girl that dresses on the conservative side. Not like a slut, and not anything weird. Just normal is fine. T-Shirt & Jeans are OK. But a girl in a dress really gets my heart racing! I also love it when a girl wears a mini skirt with boots, not cowboy boots, but sexy boots. Or high heels, I love spiked high heels!
No one likes or respects girls dressed up like sluts. Men like it when women leave something to the imagination, such as a tight mini skirt paired with thigh high stiletto boots. It’s all about mystery and Dream Boat here is no different.
I love it when a girl wears sexy lingerie in the bedroom! Especially thigh highs!
Just as long as it isn’t slutty! Consider a long-sleeved, full length, cotton nightgown with thigh-high compression socks underneath
Kissing is one of my most favorite things to do with a girl, it’s very important. I also love to hold a girls hand when I am walking with her. And I love sleeping beside a girl and holding her close to me, and spooning with her. In fact THAT is the reason I named this website “Sleepless In Austin” because I haven’t had a single good nights sleep in years, ever since my relationship ended with my ex-girlfriend.
Don’t take this as him saying that women are more like sleeping aids than actual people. I’m sure he’ll treat his woman with respect and love, as long as you go to bed when he wants to go to bed and sleep in a position that provides him the utmost level of comfort, to ensure a good night’s sleep for him. I’m sure it’s understandable if you are tired because you didn’t have a restful night, but just keep it to yourself. Remember: No one likes a Negative Nelly.
And yes, I also liked the movie Sleepless in Seattle, haha :)
See! Only the most romantic men would like such a love story.
It dosen’t matter at all to me how big or small a girls breasts are. I prefer them to be real & natural though. I am against breast implants, I see that as unnecessery self mutilation, and I would not want a girlfriend that has breast implants.
But, if you’re over 130 lbs, gastric bypass may put you back in the running for Romeo’s love!
I prefer a woman that has never had children, because having kids does ruin a womans body often times. They end up with stretch marks. And also sometimes it makes their vagina looser, and I don’t care how many kegel exercises a woman does, after she has 2 or 3 eight to ten pound babies, you can’t tell me it’s going to be 100% as tight as it ever was! Plus, what’s even worse than all of that, is sometimes during childbirth the lips/vulva of a woman get torn and they never look the same as the did originally even after they heal, that’s why some women even get cosmetic reconstructive surgery to their vulvas after childbirth to try and regain their original appearance.
Romeo is a rock star; a sensitive, worldly man. If you’re fine with being hideously deformed, and don’t care enough about yourself to not ruin your body by shitting out a couple of fuck trophies, good for you! And, hey! If you aren’t worried about the whistling sound that could be caused by a gust of wind under your dress or your stretched out, saggy, vagina skin flapping when you walk, no one is judging you. You’re probably a nice person. Gross to look at or think about, with a huge hallway vagina, don’t get me wrong, but probably really nice.
Now I’m not saying having had a kid or two is a for sure dealbreaker for me, but it’s a case by case basis, and I prefer a woman that’s never had kids if possible. My ex-girlfriend that I was with for Eleven years never had kids, she couldn’t because of a hysterectomy at a young age.
Complete uterine removal is a bonus. (For thin, long haired red heads, with limited melanin levels, and no tats, or stretch marks and a tight vadge.)
I also have a very high sex drive.
Computer screen Romeo sure backs up this claim. WHEW!
Romeo answered questions on Reddit in an AMA and here are a few of his responses, if you need any further proof that he is NOT racist:
I am NOT a racist. But I will say this, Blacks do make up the majority of the inmates in the prisons in the country.
And I think it’s White people that make up the majority of white collar executive types of positions in America. Probably more Whites are 1 percenters than there are blacks.
When I think of all of the classical composers like Mozart etc that were pure genius, I don’t recall many of them being Black.
So in the grand scheme of things, it appears the scales are tilted in favor of Whites being the superior race, after all we weren’t the ones that were enslaved workinf cotton fields for 40o years..
My best friends are black and I have no hatred for them.
See! The first few may have been making lean towards labeling him as a racist but, just as I thought, he put it all to bed at the end, revealing that he is friends with black people.
THIS BLOG POST was shared by a few people on my Facebook and I felt compelled to respond.
Another Facebook Friday just came and went, in which we, as a family, gather round and stalk teenage girls’ profiles to weed out the harlots bent on tainting the thoughts and hearts of our special snowflake sons. Wow! Your selfie in the PJs, or maybe it was yoga pants and a tank, was shocking. Then one of my special snowflakes pointed out that you were in your bedroom and I lost it. POSTING PICTURES TAKEN IN YOUR BEDROOM?!?! Why don’t you just post a list of your rates in the pic description?! My husband and sons examined the picture pretty thoroughly and, SURVEY SAYS: You aren’t wearing a bra. It’s hard to tell just from looking but if you take the picture, upload it to picmonkey and blow it up 250X, focus the view on your breast area, pinpoint where the nipple should be anatomically, note fullness, shape and drop, THEN, upload another picture from school, any other place you would definitely be wearing a bra, repeat the above steps, compare fullness, shape and drop and BAM! We know immediately, or within a half hour, 45 minutes tops, which of you are using social media to titmatize our son. The caption says, “heading to bed, GN”, so why are you posing in such a way, with your back arched oh-so-slightly, making your buttocks pop up, seeming to say, “hellooo, there”, and your perfect, perky, upturned, breasts protruding forward saying, “haaaaaaaaaay”? Your head is cocked to the side at a 45 degree angle, which really highlights your cheekbones, and your full lips are pushed out into a very sultry pout, like a bad, bad girl who needs a spanking. What? Where was I? Oh, that’s right! When I put on my bedtime bra and PJs, that’s not a position I assume in my bedroom before heading to sleep!
Oh no! Did I just say something about me being in a bedroom? Why? Why, oh why? If any men or boys read that, they are going to picture me in my bedroom and have impure, lustful thoughts. CRAP! I just mentioned me in a bedroom again! I’m just another of Satan’s tools, put here to incite lust into the minds and hearts of pure, pious, good men, leading them into temptation. Please forgive me for any impure thoughts or impulses I may have caused anyone, even though I don’t know that I can forgive myself for leading you from the path of righteousness.
Back to my point, we aren’t saying that you girls are worthless whores. We don’t know you! That would be a ridiculous generalization! We’re just saying that any girl who takes pictures of herself in her bedroom is MOST LIKELY a worthless whore. Do you see the distinction? Point being, and this is a bummer, we are going to have to block you. I’m doing this because I care about my sons and I know, as males, they are incapable of separating their thoughts from their actions and controlling their urges. It is our job as women to avoid acting or dressing in such a way that could cause a man to sin, against themselves or against us. Men are just a slave to their urges. They can’t help it. Boys will be boys, you know. Did you know that once a man sees you in any state of undress that he can’t un-see it? It makes me weep for my husband who has the images of countless young girls and their bare shoulders, and legs, and midriffs, all trapped inside his head to suffer him for an eternity. You, you girls with your camera phones and mirrors and pajamas and come hither looks have put those images there but he is the one who will have to suffer and sacrifice. You don’t want my sons having sexual thoughts about you, do you? I hope not because there is no telling what they may do if you spark their sexual interest. They’re just boys. You are in control. Not them.
I know that sounds old school but that is just the way it is under this roof. We hope to raise men with a strong moral compass and, in this house, we know that men of integrity view women as objects; almost like an actual person but not worthy of any notable level of respect or dignity. We don’t trust our sons’ judgment in any sense of the word when it comes to the female persuasion. Girls will only cloud and impair their instincts, one selfie at a time, leading them down a wayward path of immorality that they have no ability or recourse to resist.
Here are a few pictures of our sons. I guess you can tell by the tan and the swimsuits that they were taken at the beach. The one with my husband, where they are all shirtless and flexing is my favorite. Here is another one of one of my sons, wearing only his swim shorts, looking off at the horizon. It is fine for me to post these pictures because girls aren’t actually capable of lust or sexual desire. Our sexuality is just a put on to make men feel good. Pictures of half-dressed boys, striking poses, are just good clean family fun. Boys being boys! It’s not like these pictures are taken in their bedrooms but, even if they were it would be different because boys’ rooms stink like cheese, so it cancels out any “sexy” that could be inferred otherwise.
Girls! If you act now, you may be able to fool some people into thinking that you aren’t a Jezebel temptress. Not me, but some people! I know better. It would be far too difficult to double back and teach my sons that women are people and, as such, are worthy of respect; respect that is not contingent just on their potential future benefit to my sons’ existence. It would be confusing for me to explain to them that modesty and self-respect work both ways and that if you are going to scrutinize girls for sharing pictures that show skin, they should practice what they preach. When it comes to the influence of peers on our sons’ lives, we know that the girls are the paramount threat. It’s the very reason that we only screen and filter out our sons’ female friends. Boys are just boys and are going to do silly stuff and post inappropriate pictures and YouTube videos but, hey! What are ya’ gonna do, ya know? Even when we are going through these girls’ pictures, we will see our sons or their guy friends in these pics, doing the same thing, flipping the bird, using vulgar language, or drinking but we know that they can’t help themselves. It’s the testosterone.
What I’m trying to say is that I don’t respect nor trust my sons, or men in general. For that matter, I don’t trust females either. I think that men are mindless slaves to their genitals, incapable of compassion, or reasoned decision-making. I think, and pass on to my sons, that if they falter, it is partly their fault, but mostly the fault of women (or a woman), guilty of infecting them with lust. I am teaching them to not trust their own instincts or emotions, in the way that I distrust them, because even if they think they’re thinking with their heart, they can rest assured that it is their penis, unless told otherwise. I want them to see women as objects, save their future wives, of whom I’ve set an almost impossible standard of beauty, piety, and influence over my sons’ happiness, satisfaction and overall quality of life that will only be achieved through a relationship with this one, special, specific person, that meets said criteria.
You’re really beautiful but I don’t see a bra strap in that picture.
I’m not saying you’re a slut, I’m just saying you look slutty.
Sorry I’m not sorry.
Queen of the Couch
Classic literature? This way, sir, if you please.
Oh yes it is.
speaks to the masses of people not reading this blog
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The Real NY...
Things my son needs to know before he grows up to be just like me.
From first time pregnancy to full-time mummy of two. An honest (slightly crazed) account of pregnancy, parenting with The Real Man and life in between!
There is nothing wrong with being right.