Warning Boys: Gotcha! (I am Lady, hear me roar);

Everything you think a woman doesn’t know?  Oh, she knows it.

Whether or not we let you in on that little fact, be aware that everything you think you can hide from your Lady you absolutely cannot.  We are observers.  We are analyzers.  We are empaths.  We are perceptive and detail-oriented.  And the suspicion of our male counterparts is innate – we are born protective (think “mother lioness”) and, I would say, just as territorial as our lesser-halves (ha.).

Look, if we’ve decided to be with you it’s because we think you’re the best.  In whatever way is most important to each individual woman (romance, stability, wealth, practicality, attraction), you beat out all your competitors.  You had the flashiest feathers, the sweetest song, the most prevalent battle scars.

Congratulations: you won!  But don’t flatter yourself, it’s just nature.  In the same way that female animals judge the available gene-pool, thus do we.  Though for us it becomes a bit more complex than these physical factors, we too are animals and will protect our property accordingly.

Don’t balk at the word.  It’s how you think of us, isn’t it?

Much of what men try and hide from their women is harmless.  Of course there are more grave situations and hurtful offenses, but what I find my husband most tries to hide from me is something silly, say, eating an unhealthy snack.  What’s even more ridiculous than the fact that he tries to hide it is the fact that he thinks I give a d@mn.  If I, then, point out that he’s got a bit of chocolate icing on his cheek (undoubtedly from devouring the sweet rapidly to avoid detection), he accuses me of “controlling” him.

Really?  Fine.  

Next time I’ll just let you walk around with sh*t on your face.

 

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Living with Wild Abandon: or, the Bad Boy appeal —

This is an excerpt from my last (rather long, rather verbose) post.  I thought why bad boys have such appeal was a concept that deserved more specific discussion:

My best friend from childhood, the one I always speak about, calls me for relationship advice.  Or, rather, a decision between two “boys.”  She is my age and just as smart, but she is wholly inexperienced in exploring herself and in relationships.  I have been married nearing 5 years, so I can understand her seeking me out for advice.  Especially on such an appropriate query:

M: One of them is so smart and so respectful; he wants to treat me so well, but I just don’t feel it.  The other?  Such a bad boy.  Felonies and DUI’s galore.  A drop-out, a possible drug-dealer – no future, really.  But he’s just so exciting.

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The Bartender Therapist: or, a harem forming about me

I happen to have lots of problems.  I don’t know if it’s because of this or in lieu of this, but I seem to gather about me women with just as many issues.  Whereas my problems are continuous – and generally kept under wraps – it seems like their lives, on sporadic occasion, blow up in their faces.

All at the same time.

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