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March, 2014

  • will baring our breasts end the culture of rape?

    According to a recent survey taken in Brazil, 65% of their citizenship either partially or wholly believe that “if dressed provocatively, women deserve to be attacked and raped.” The study also revealed that 58.5% hold the belief that “if women knew how to behave, there would be less rape.”

    The backlash of these findings is a campaign where Brazilian women post pictures of themselves naked, but covering the breasts, with the hashtag #NãoMereçoSerEstuprada, which translates to ‘#IDon’tDeserveToBeRaped.’

    This mentality of blaming the victim holds women entirely responsible for being raped, while simultaneously excusing men for raping because he was provoked. That is as absurd as saying that it was my fault I got mugged because I shouldn’t have had money in my wallet that someone could have wanted.  Could you imagine a policeman telling another man that if he didn’t want to get his car stolen he shouldn’t have parked it where someone could see and desire it?

    Yet how we present ourselves is not the only reason women get raped. Women wearing Burka’s get raped all the time.  Were they asking for it by exposing too much eyelid? I also don’t think there is excessive rape in indigenous tribal cultures where women never wear shirts.  Men don’t rape women exclusively because they are dressing sexy.  Men rape for reasons far more complex and nuanced than a mini skirt.

    To truly change the culture of rape we have to examine the causes. As much as we can look at misogyny and sexism in culture, and point out how conditioning and the media enflame the problem, that cannot be the only cause.  All men are exposed to the objectification of women, yet not all men are rapist.  We need to examine this pattern of men abusing women and recognize that this isn’t just a woman’s problem.

    Subjugation is a feedback loop, and both the perpetrator and victim are going to suffer from an act of sexual violence.  Yet what varies is how they internalize the experience.  It is hard to be sympathetic to the men who exploit women, yet we have to acknowledge that their actions are coming from a place of pain in order to change the behavior.  We can’t just be horrified when rape happens and avoid addressing the root cause of what rape means to men.

    Rape is asserting your control over someone weaker than you.  Rape is having no empathy for the human you are using. Rape is over powering a human.  Rape is about dominance.

    We live in a culture of dominance, and men in particular feel the pressure to dominate others. The alpha male complex is just as relevant as when we lived a more primal existence, but in modern times dominance permeates past the physical realm and deep into the psychological.  Men dominate each other. Bosses often dominate employees, politicians too frequently attempt domination over vulnerable members of our society – this culture of dominance saturates the very systems in which we exist.

    The desire to conquer another human is played out in a variety of different means that are not only socially acceptable, but expected.  You have to work your way up through a company while tolerating the many men who dominate you in order to one day have the privilege to dominate.  The reward for your subservience is to make others your subservient.

    The concept of power of domination is embedded into not only the male psychology but also the archetype of the successful man.  He is someone who is ruthless, and prioritizes his own needs above everything else to get what he wants.  This is the man who society encourages for he is the one who rewarded with riches.  And it is this thinking that has permeated the definition of manliness and what is means to be powerful.  So it is not impossible to imagine how this influence bleeds into a man’s sexuality.

    There is an adrenalin rush in having power over someone else, and asserting your strength. Part of that may have some biological underpinnings, and part of that is socialized. In environments where dominance is unquestioningly integrated into the community, like with competitive sports and the military, you will often find disproportionate accounts of rape.

    We cannot put all the pressure on women to avoid getting raped because that is impossible.  Rape doesn’t stop with women, it stops with men.  Women can’t be the only ones talking about rape.  We need to invite men into this conversation and work together to heal those parts of masculinity that drives men to commit violence against women.




    March 31, 2014 • Current Events, Musings, Women's Business • Views: 3529

  • Hey Dad, Here is My Virginity

    I am well aware that some religious women feel societal and personal pressure to maintain their virginity for marriage.  I also have heard of purity rings, which Christian girls can opt to wear, symbolizing their commitment to remaining “pure.” Yet I have just been exposed to the existence of “purity balls.”

    Contrary to my initial assumption, purity balls are not to be inserted. Instead, they are a ritual in which 12-year-old girls “gift” their virginity to their fathers by signing a contract under the watchful eyes of God that states her father, as “high priest” of the household, will “protect” her purity. Father and daughter then signify this agreement in a marriage-like ceremony and “first dance.” The girl wears a ring to demonstrate her devotion, and to remind her that she is “married to the Lord and her father is her boyfriend.” (The words of one Pastor Ron Johnson… not mine.)

    Oh, and lets be clear that remaining “pure” rules out kissing or any kind of physical intimacy before marriage.

    Okay, Toni, breathe.

    What I find most outrageous about this arrangement is the age of these girls.  If someone had taken me aside when I was 12 and told me I should never put a penis in my mouth, vagina, or anus I would say HELL YEAH I WON’T… I am sorry. HECK YEAH. I was 12…boys had cooties. They were gross. The thought of having someone’s tongue touch mine made me want to gag. I was way more interested in playing foursquare and making bracelets out of string. I didn’t care about sex and could easily have promised I would never do it.

    Things change though, as hormones start to kick in around the age of 13 or 14. To make these girls swear to God they won’t break their vow is setting them up for emotional torture. Teenagers are sexual, horny, and curious by nature. To view sex as a spiritual act that should be reserved for the miraculous intention of making babies is one thing, but to say experimentation of any kind is a sin is both extreme and dictatorial.

    The incestuous undertone of the fathers being the keeper of their daughter’s cherry, essentially serving as their de facto boyfriend, makes this new cultural phenomenon that much creepier. I try to imagine what my dad would have done with my virginity. Where would he have put it? Those things are slippery – what if he lost it? Shouldn’t I be responsible for my own virginity? Designating a father to oversee his young daughter’s hymen sets up a dangerous power dynamic. Where does that leave her if she “lets him down” and has a change of heart?

    If a teenage girl chooses this lifestyle, she should do it with her own free will, not in the context of being betrothed to her father. It should be a decision she herself maintains. Anointing fathers to oversee their daughter’s sexuality is not only oppressive but the ultimate manifestation of the patriarchy. (In all my research, I found no stories of sons having purity balls with their mothers – actually that just sounds really wrong.)

    There is an important distinction between influencing our children and indoctrinating them.  It is one thing to introduce beliefs as part of a value system within a household, but brainwashing a young girl to think she’ll go to hell if she frenches a boy is something else entirely. I really hope that like Born Again Christians, there will also be Born Again Virgins.  It’s only fair.

    The pledge:

    For Fathers

    I (Daughter’s Name)’s Father, choose before to God to war for my daughter’s purity. I acknowledge myself as the authority and protector of my daughter’s virginity, and pledge to be a man of integrity as I lead, guide, and pray over my daughter and her virginity – as the High Priest of my home.

    For Virgins

    I (Name) pledge my purity to my father, my future/husband and my Creator. I recognize that virginity is my most precious gift to offer to my future husband. I will not engage in sexual activity of any kind before marriage but will keep my thought and my body pure as a very special present for the one I marry.

     – Wording of the pledge signed at purity balls.



    March 28, 2014 • Current Events, Musings, Women's Business • Views: 17325

  • – The Plot to Drive you Clinically Insane

    It is official.  Regardless that the idea of “affordable health care for every American,” seems like a benign mission, the website was put on this planet as a means of mind control and extreme violent psychological torture.

    I personally don’t even want health care.  Not because of the concept, but because no health care provider would cover the type of health strategies I use.  Like seeing a shaman for my shingles, a reiki practitioner for my repressed inner rage, or a wizard for my receding gums.

    Sigh.  I guess I need health insurance if a drastic emergency was to happen.  Like if I was sucked inside a tornado, smashed into a plane while in the sky, smacked my head on a bird getting it’s beak lodged into my eye socket, then spit out onto a metal fence and impaled.  Yeah, then maybe I would want an ambulance to come and get me to a doctor who would give me a pig heart to survive.

    So far my entire week has been dedicated to trying to sign up for health care on the website, and this is what happened.  Mind you, each time I called, I was on hold for at LEAST an hour and a half before I talked to an actual live person.

    • I spend 20 min filling out the application.  Right at the very end, the website froze and told me to call
    • I called, and their system went down and told me to go back to the website
    • I went back to the website and my application was corrupted
    • I called and explained my application was corrupted.  They told me to go on line and make a new one, because they couldn’t help me because their systems were down.
    • I started a new application, but half way through it wouldn’t let me fill in a part, nor would it let me move on
    • I called and said my application won’t let me fill in what I need to, and won’t let me move on to the next page.  She tried to fix it, but couldn’t.  Told me to start a new application with her on the phone.  Their system went down.  She told me to go back to the website.
    • I went back to the website, and it wouldn’t let me log in
    • I called, we got half way through a new application, and their system went down.  Told me to go back to the website.
    • Again, I couldn’t log in
    • I called and the lady and I set it up together over the phone

    Now I will say that the ladies I dealt with on the support hotline were really kind, patient people.  They were just as frustrated as I was, and that made me feel like we were in this together.  We would laugh about how they must do nothing but deal with angry people all day, and then we both cried a little.

    At one point during this debacle I was convinced that the real conspiracy behind the health care initiative was to break people.  To destroy their spirit and stifle their will to live – therefor making sure people never needed health care because they would commit suicide by beating themselves to death with their phones while on hold, or by smashing their faces into their computer screens.

    What I don’t get is how can this website be so dysfunctional! BILLIONS of people are on Facebook every day, and a couple of million can’t get through the government’s website? The same government that goes through all our texts – looking at our dick pics and emoticons?

    Yet the elation I felt when that sweet Texan lady and I finally filled out my application was unparalleled.  I also have to admit, that is wayyyyy more affordable than my previous situation that was anally raping me because of the “precondition” of my brain tumor.  But unless my insurance starts covering seeing a woodland troll for my back pain, or someone has the decency to throw an ax into my skull, this might be a total waste of money.

    (look at the horror of this screen….. THE MADDENING HORROR…. but seriously it is way cheaper….)

    March 27, 2014 • Current Events, Health, Mommy Body, Musings • Views: 2184

  • Girlie Guns

    It turns out that boys aren’t the only ones being marketed to in order to propagate ideas of violence and war.  Now your little girls can get in on the action of mocking murder!  Hooray!

    In this NYT article, it discusses how there is a huge financial opportunity to capitalize on by creating faux deadly toys for girls – that sparkle of course.  You know how bitches love bedazzling things.  Thanks to movies like The Hunger Games and Divergent, girls are now interested in mimicking warriors with pink weaponry.

    “Toy makers have begun marketing a more aggressive line of playthings and weaponry for girls — inspired by a succession of female warrior heroes like Katniss, the Black Widow of “The Avengers,” Merida of “Brave,” and now, Tris of the book and new movie “Divergent” — even as the industry still clings to every shade of pink.

    Zing’s Air Huntress bows and sling shots (Slogan: Ready. Aim. Girl Power!) account for more than a quarter of the company’s sales in a little over a year on the market. A pump-action “cheetah shooter” from the Marshmallow Fun Company is bathed in pale pink with darker spots and fires mini-marshmallows.”

    For sure! Nothing says “girl power” like pretending to kill!

    I haven’t seen the Hunger Games, but maybe these toy manufacturers are missing the message. I always thought it was a commentary about the Orwellian state of Big Government, not a call to arms for our youth.

    Call me a pussy pacifist hippy, but maybe we don’t need to encourage war, violence, and murder with either gender?  Sure it is normal for kids to feel aggression.  We all have rage inside of us – just ask the steering wheels in our cars.  It is fine to need outlets to express anger, but why does that mean simulating battle?  Why go through these extreme measures to glorify one of the most barbaric ways we treat each other?  War isn’t a game, it is an accepted form of mutual mass murder between nations

    Can’t we start developing peaceful toys so we can instead promote a world that is I don’t know… PEACEFUL?? Like a super fun Gandhi staff, or a Martin Luther King dream kit?



    March 26, 2014 • 3 years old, Behavior, Education, Parenting, Playing • Views: 1794

  • No Makeup Selfies for Breast Cancer

    In order to raise awareness about breast cancer, a campaign has been launched where women take “selfies” of themselves with no make up on.  I feel torn about this initiative – Natalie Imbruglia style… and now I am cold and afraid, lying naked on the floor.  I need to get up and put some damn clothes on!

    Let’s focus on the positive first.

    1)   $3 million has been raised in just a few days because of this campaign!

    2)   Encouraging women to support other women!

    3)   Using social media as a way to give people a chance to be philanthropic!

    4)   People love taking selfies!

    I am not going to shit on any of those things, because that would be gross and uncalled for – especially when my toilet is feet away.  Yet here are my issues with this crusade.  For one, it is implying that taking a picture without make up is not only a brave act, but also a revolutionary one.  Sigh.  This is annoying for a variety of reasons.  Yeah some women are really committed to wearing make up, but there are also a shit ton who are not.  The idea that showing your fresh face is such a big deal to chicks is demeaning and immature.

    Yet the feminist argument about beauty standards is obvious.  My bigger problem is that cancer is a $95 billion dollar industry.  We don’t need to raise awareness about cancer.  Everyone knows about cancer.  There is obviously massive profit to be made on this devastating condition.  I think we do need to raise awareness on the causes of cancer beyond genetics.  There are numerous environmental pollutants that also contribute to giving people cancer, and that is something we have control over.

    Considering only 7% of the 85,000 chemicals that are in use today have been tested for safety, there is a lot that we should be concerned about being exposed to. There are many household items that are suspected of causing breast cancer including mothballs, toilet deodorizers, air fresheners, tainted mascara, pesticides, canned food, and parabens… which are in a LOT of beauty products!

    The business of cancer is complex.  The companies that cause cancer invest in the very companies that cure cancer, and vice versa. Some companies that profit from cancer treatment drugs also produce chemicals that may also cause cancer.  All this is allowed because it is the way of the stock market.  Companies invest in other companies that are yielding high profits, and they make decisions that will also make their stock value rise – regardless of the hypocrisy.  The conflict of interest is obvious here, yet it makes perfect sense from an economic stand point.

    There is also “profiteering” that takes place because big pharma companies hike up the prices of the medicine, sentencing many to death because they can’t afford the treatment they need. Ken Campbell from the UK charity Beating Blood Cancers told RT that drug companies often try and carry out a process known as “ever-greening”, where they try and make as much money on a drug before its patent runs out and it can be produced generically.

    The stakes are so high when dealing with cancer treatment that corruption has leaked into the methodology.  Many alternative and natural procedures have been discredit by the medical industrial complex because it would interfere with their business model.  So if we are going to raise awareness about breast cancer, or any cancer for that matter, it is pivotal that the details are expressed and not just some oversimplified idea of “cancer is bad, make it go away.”

    I am thinking of starting a campaign myself.  Who is ready to join me!

    Dick pics for prostate cancer!



    March 25, 2014 • Current Events, Health, Mommy Body • Views: 10388

  • Am I an enabler, or as compassionate as a Buddhist Monk?

    Kids can have serious control issues. At times, being around The Munch is like living with Mussolini.  Yet I am sure in The Munch’s world, she feels like I am the dictator. Children are constantly being told what they can and cannot do, so when they feel a sense of autonomy, it can become an obsession.  Or at least that is how I am rationalizing my child’s compulsive behavior.

    There are many ways where The Munch displays her domineering ways, but it manifests most clearly in her appearance.  She’s hyper opinionated about what she wears, down to every possible accessory. There is nothing on The Munch’s body that she doesn’t vet first.

    At first I was like “wow, this is fucking annoying.”  Mainly because Munch insists on wearing the same thing everyday.  You would  think that would be convenient, but it is also pretty gross.  Not to mention I get sick of seeing her in the same outfit day after day, because it creates this time warp in my head.  I have no sense of time passing because every memory in the last 3 months The Munch is wearing the same fucking thing.  Yet it was too much a battle of the wills to make her wear what I wanted her to.  So now my strategy is to buy two of everything (whenever possible) and allow whatever phase she is in to play itself out.  It’s too stressful trying to fight about something as ultimately unimportant as clothes. I figure as long as the egg stains are from today (or at most yesterday) all is okay. The problem is, however, not everything Munch wears she can put on herself the way she likes it.  Which means that her fixation becomes my problem.  Case in point: the hair “clippy.”

    The Munch likes to wear a barrette to keep her hair out of her eyes.  This is reasonable enough, yet she likes her “clippy” situated in a very particular way. Said “clippy” has to be snug enough where it doesn’t lift off her scalp when she touches it. The “clippy” also has to be “tight” –never “floppy.”  If the “clippy” is “scrumbled” in any way, it then has to be repositioned by me… no matter what I am doing.

    Many activities “mess up” the “clippy,” such as jumping on the bed, playing on the couch, running, biking, dancing, crying, walking, drawing, sitting quietly reading a book, watching a video on the computer, and being exposed to air. Sometimes I can put on the “clippy,” and it will have to be immediately reapplied because it got “droopy” in the moment between my fingers clasping the “clippy” and when they moved back to what I was doing.

    There are days when I cannot count the number of times I have to clip the god damn “clippy” in The Munch’s goddamn hair – and that is not because I am bad at math.  Yet even though this is an interruption in my life, it is also not that big of a deal.  It takes about 4 seconds.  All of which is to say it’s hard for me to say no to her endless demands.  So here is my question.  Am I enabling her neurotic behavior by helping The Munch, or am I being compassionate because I too know what it is like when your hair is just not right?



    March 24, 2014 • 3 years old, Behavior, Family Drama, Parenting, Toddler Thoughts • Views: 1584

  • A Study In Obsessive Behavior – Test Subject, My Brother

    You know how every family has a personality trait that extends between its members?  A vibe that permeates each person’s temperament in a subtle way – like being low-key, high-strung, passive, aggressive, passive aggressive, or medium-key quasi aggressive.  For the Nagy family, the characteristic that defines us all is obsessive.

    Since I am the youngest child, and born into a dynamic where the other 3 family fellows were excessively obsessive, I manifest this quality the least.  You know how 2nd children have to adapt to the crazy they are surrounded by as a means of survival. I was still influenced by that token Nagy obsessive energy, and will do things like clean my kitchen while people are still eating, but I am much more relaxed than my brother, mother or father.

    Sometimes I think these semi OCD tendencies are a symptom of an overactive mind.  My parents and brother are all academics, so I think they tend to get trapped in their heads. Once an idea comes to them, they can’t stop fixating on it until it is resolved.  Mulling the thought over and over, allowing it to eat away at their consciousness like a stray dog gnawing on a bloody bone.

    So lets take my brother as a case study.  Yesterday some of his furniture was being moved from his old home in Boston to New Hampshire, where there is room to store it.  Not a lot of furniture mind you… a desk, a couch, and some books.  This seems a non-event right?

    Yet here is the conflict in my brother’s brain.  There was going to be a two-hour window between when he said goodbye to his stuff as the movers loaded it into the truck, and the time it would take them to arrive here in New Hampshire.  That means from 3-5 pm my brother would have to wait until his stuff got here in order to relax and know that everything was in fact okay.

    So all my brother could think about during this fateful afternoon was the movers, and subsequently it was all I thought about as well because of the influx of texts I received.


    First text from my brother Laszlo: Toni, my movers left at 3.  They are in a budget van.  I think the situation should be okay. Like there is no human way they could be there by now.  I would call the movers, but I don’t want to make us look stupid.

    My reply: No stress I am here!

    Reply from Laszlo: Ok.  The head mover Brandon, looks like the lead singer from Hootie and The Blowfish.   The only real drama is they took out the drawers from the desk because it was so hard getting it out of here.

    My reply: It will be okay!

    Reply from Laszlo: But aside from that it was fine.  They left at 3:07pm, maybe 3:10.  The van is a “budget van.”  And am I getting this right that Adelia and Toni might witness the spectacle of Uncle Laszlo’s furniture being tendered? That is how I am imagining this.

    My reply: Yes we will!

    Reply from Laszlo: Can I give you the number to the movers? Might be wise… Should I communicate with him? This is a short story in the making, and I don’t even know the plot.

    (I don’t reply fast enough)

    Reply from Laszlo continued: Okay so I made an executive decision and gave your digits to Brandon.

    My reply: He is not here yet.

    Reply from Laszlo: These are just preemptive moves on my part, but me being a Pisces, even though I lack evidence, I sense that strange things are afoot at the Circle K… quote from Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure.

    (Again I don’t reply fast enough)

    Reply from Laszlo continued: Maybe they will go to Burger King in which case there will be temporal harmony in the Universe.

    (Yet again, I don’t reply fast enough)

    Reply from Laszlo further continued: I go have a cigarette in your honor.

    My reply: He is here!

    Reply from Laszlo: For reals??? Take pictures! He is super nice!! Tell him I say ‘Hi’ okay? Are you happy?

    My reply: He is very nice.

    Reply from Laszlo: He must think we are insane in the membrane.  I fuck off now, but if you feel like taking pictures….

    Then an hour later I get a phone call from my brother.  I didn’t answer because my friend was over, and I figured we had established that everything was in fact fine.

    Text from Laszlo: So no one answers their phone… is this a novel or what?

    My reply: Everything is fine! I just have a friend over.  Can I call you when she leaves?

    Reply from Laszlo: No need to call.  I did a lot of filling in the blanks over radio silences… inner dad and all that.  Have a good time with your friend and I love you! Thanks for being there for me Toni!

    Sigh… at least I know where The Munch gets it from.

    This is a picture of man who never stops thinking…


    March 21, 2014 • Adventures, Family Drama, Talking and Not Talking • Views: 3559

  • The Pros and Cons of Being a Pothead Mom

    If your mom did drugs during your childhood, which vice would you have preferred she indulged in? Cocaine would get old fast with all her false promises and talking while white spit caked in the corners of her mouth. Meth might be okay cuz she’d probably keep a really clean house, but the horror of the missing teeth and eroded face might be embarrassing during sleepovers. Ecstasy would make her super affectionate, but maybe too much so with the throw pillow on the couch. I think the answer is pretty obvious. Weed. She would not only cook brownies all the time, but she would also let you eat them (although you might have to rip them out of her hands so she didn’t devour them all herself).

    I recently read about a stay at home mom in Colorado who admits she’s a pothead. Of course she now resides in a state where weed is not only legal, but very accessible. In this articles she considers how the legalization of marijuana affects kids. She wonders if she should be hiding her habit from her daughter.

    Currently, when my little girl asks to have a sip of daddy’s beer, we say, ‘No, that’s a grown-up drink, it will make you feel sick, and she gets it. Those are the rules. Just like we taught her that space heaters can burn, and that the cleaners under the sink are strictly off-limits.

    The only way I know how to do that is to be completely honest, with my kids and with myself. Shame and secrecy only produce more of the same, and from what I’ve seen, as soon as our kids stop trusting us, they stop talking to us and we can lose them to abuse.

    I see her logic. It also made me wonder what It’d feel like to be high around the Munch.

    I don’t puff ganja any more, but sometimes I imagine taking it up again. I could see digging the same stuff she does, if I were stoned. Back in my pothead days, I loved to doings arts and crafts, staring into space, and eating sugary cereal.

    I thought I might as well list the pros and cons of being a pothead mom.


    ▪    I would be more creative.

    ▪    I would care less about drawing inside the lines.

    ▪    I would also care less about reading the same story multiple times as it’s likely I wouldn’t remember what had just happened.

    ▪    I would bake a lot more

    ▪    I would be more patient since I wouldn’t really know what was going on.

    ▪    I most likely enjoy pushing my kid on a swing for 45 minutes because hey man, look at that cloud.

    ▪    I would laugh a lot because kids are fucking hilarious.

    ▪    I would be down to watch cartoons with The Munch rather than stay on top of boring household chores like washing dishes


    ▪    I might fall asleep in the midst of playing a game.

    ▪    I might eat everything I baked, not share anything and make Munch cry.

    ▪    I might get confused while teaching Munch a simple game like memory.

    ▪    Munch also might beat me at memory, dangerously deflating my self-esteem.

    ▪    I might get obsessive about the type of city we built with Munch’s blocks and  hijack all the triangle shapes.

    ▪    I might forget why I am laughing.

    ….. Or worse, I might warp her sense of humor by laughing at things that are not funny at all.



    March 20, 2014 • Current Events, Musings, Parenting • Views: 30528

  • The Penis, and What We Owe It

    The penis, a body part revered, adored, and glorified by many cultures.  It has erected a myriad of tributes in its honor from the Washington Monument, to almost every of sculpture from Ancient Greece. Supposedly I even secretly envy penile power, after all how could my carnivorous vagina ever compare to its’ penetrating prowess? To be clear, I have no problem with love sticks and their bing-bongs. They’re nice enough, despite being a little pushy and intrusive at times.  Here is my issue with how the penis hangs. In situations of a sexual nature, why is there an expectation that women somehow owe the penis anything?

    Whether a woman and man are together in a bedroom, car, or bathroom stall, there is an imposed cultural assumption that the penis has priority. This presumption leaves the lady as the weiner’s primary ejaculation enabler. While Nora Jones wistfully wonders why she didn’t come, we women feel morally obligated to ensure the wangs we engage with erupt.  I think it’s time ladies need to have the same genuine concern for our purple beans as we do for a man’s blue balls.

    I don’t mean to imply there aren’t many men out in the cosmos who already care about whether their lady leaks love juices.  I also don’t think this psychic grip exists in the minds of men alone. Women perpetuate this paradigm by fulfilling our society’s expectation that if a couple goes past second base, the gal’s role is to ensure his penis sneezes.

    Are women biologically predisposed to prioritize the needs of others, since otherwise we would be reptilian moms who devoured our young if it they didn’t get away fast enough?  Or are we the victims of social conditioning, expected to be “good girls” who are considerate and agreeable?  Wanting to make out with a guy shouldn’t mean women feel the pressure to pleasure him fully. Nor should your mouth or forearm have to get sore simply so he can go to sleep.

    I am not going to blame the rooster and his eggs for wanting to come – of course he does! I am sure it is hard to go around with a hard-on that won’t get un-hard.  Being an external appendage, the wingy-ding grows out into the world with excitement, reminding its owner “Hey! Deal with me or I am going to stretch out your pants!”  Whereas our internal fuzzy-wuzzy is tucked in like a suitcase and has a more subtle approach. The hoo-ha may technically be a “receptive” sexual organ, but that doesn’t equate it with being passive, or less urgent.

    The sheer mechanics of male ejaculation being simpler and usually take less time, doesn’t mean women have a moral obligation to make sure the peen pukes. You are not indebted to his desire simply for turning him on.  Besides, it is not some big accomplishment or even compliment if a guy wants to blow his load when he is around you.  I am not sure if you have looked at the Internet lately, but the simplest things sexually stimulate men.

    If you do want to bump crotches with a gentleman and entangle pubic hairs, then go for it. Just remember it is okay to leave him with pitched tent. Some dudes may think that’s the behavior of a “tease,” but those guys also listen to Maroon 5.  Let’s relieve ourselves of this inherent orgasm hierarchy. If we thrust this idea into public perception and penetrate the psyches of women and men everywhere, orgasms will finally deserve their long deserved equal opportunity treatment.


    March 19, 2014 • Musings, Women's Business • Views: 4537