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  • Bras, Boobs, and the Truth About Victoria’s Secret

    I remember being a flat chested pre-teen and really wanting big boobs – so much so, that I’d even wish for them on a star. I’m not really sure that’s what Pinocchio had in mind for me, but I’m 100% sure it’s what Walt Disney did.

    I’m not sure why I was so interested in having large fat balls dangle off my chest, but at the time, it seemed very crucial. Maybe it was curiosity? Wanting to know what they would feel like? I also wanted braces for that exact reason. I’d see my friends struggle with metal scraping their inner lips, rubber bands snapping their tongues, retainers that flipped and got coated with food mucus, and I think to myself – I want that. Braces seemed so eventful compared to my boring mouth that was free of torture devises, and I guess tits shared a similar allure.

    I knew when my mom was young she had a big pair of tits, so there was hope for my dream of acquiring bounteous fun bags – a dream so pure it rivaled the vision of MLK. I even saw pictures to prove my mom’s lady sacks were impressive because her current woman balls were less so. When questioning the size change of her breasts, my mom explained to me that I sucked them away while breastfeeding – her words, not mine. Although I felt slightly guilty for vampirically devouring the bosom of my mother, I also secretly hoped they’d transfer to me through eventual osmosis.

    Finally in the 7th grade I decided I needed a bra. This was of course a subjective decision made by yours truly. I think if you’d held up my front body to the scrutiny of objective scientific inquiry – the results may have varied. Yet sadly for me, science had other things to do than quantifying if my tits needed to be holstered, so I had to rely on my own method of bouncing up and down on a trampoline trying to measure for movement – I mean, I guess I could have gotten a grant to be more precise, but you know how they only give grants to boys in science because the patriarchy.

    After I deemed myself worthy of being initiated into the culture of bra-wearing women, I asked my mom if she’d buy me one. We both knew there was only one store she was going to take me to. This was 1993 my friends, there was no real choice; this was the height of the monolith that was Victoria’s secret (PS her secret is that she’s having an affair, that’s why she needs the sexy lingerie). My mother, who was a classy lady, wasn’t going to take me to some department store to get a cotton “training” bra to train my boobs for some esoteric Olympic event of boob bouncing. My mom was going to take me to where she herself found her breast buckets.

    The closest Victoria’s Secret was at the “Cambridge Side Galleria Mall,” which was not a place we’d frequent often because my mom hated malls – she thought going to malls was a republican thing to do, as was giving your kids rides, or playing golf. As a family we were forbidden all activities that looked slightly republican – hence why I walked miles to school by myself starting at age 7, but I digress. When my mom and I entered into the heavenly scented silk haven that was VS, we then perused the various drawers and racks for the perfect bras for my petite tits.

    To my surprise, it turned out that this process was not the joyous feminine bathing in satin I thought it would be. I suddenly lost interest in all the delicate fabric, and was too ashamed to try anything on, or have a sales lady help me. I felt out of place with my GAP jeans, T-shirt, and ponytail. Nothing about my 13-year old self felt womanly or sensual – nor was I even interested in my own sexuality. I was also very intimidated by the many manikins whose plentiful breasts where being decorated by Victoria’s holsters while their blank faces stared into mine, mocking me.

    I asked my mom to hurry up and pick some bras for me because she loves pretty things. My mother of course chose a red-lace padded push-up bra, size 32A.

    My dad’s a lucky guy. My mom knows how to woman.

    I left that store with this fancy bra and two others, humiliated by my own uncomfortability both emotionally and physically – because wouldn’t you know it, a red-lace push-up padded bra is itchy as fuck, as was the black lace one, and the other flowered lace one. All these bras had underwire in them that dug into my ribs and chaffed my skin. They hurt to wear… but they were beautiful and that’s the whole point right? To adorn your sex parts with sexy clothing so they can be sexy for all the sex you’re going to have? The message was clear – decorate your sex because you are a sexy present that a man will soon unwrap.

    Now, I know you’re probably on the edge of your seat right now wondering if I ever achieved my childhood aspiration of growing big tits. I get that you might even lose sleep if you don’t find out the answer to this crucial question and are probably searching for your anti anxiety meds right now because you can’t take the anticipation. Well you can exhale and breathe again because I DID GET THOSE BIG BOOBS AFTER ALL! I got on birth control pills at 15 and then grew a pair of full C-cups, sometimes D’s.

    I know. You feel so much relief now don’t you?

    But… I bet your still beside yourself with curiosity wondering if that young girl with the red-lace padded push-up bra grew up to be a woman that still wears such alluring lingerie and the answer is… hahahh that’s hilarious. My current bra situation is some old nursing bras that are stained with breast milk from 7-years ago, but I still wear them because they’re soft. I also have some floppy sports bras that aren’t too tight because I hate the feeling of fabric constricting my lungs. These bras don’t necessarily support anything, and are more just material I drape on my body with the intention of holding my breasts in place. These are Buddhist bras, and it’s more about visualizing them working than them actually doing anything productive. Oh, we also can’t forget about my favorite bras of the many no-bras that I have.

    Now I’m sure you’re thinking to yourself, “But Toni, what about those ample ta-ta’s you had?? Don’t they need to be held up securely?” Well… despite my fun bags at one point being as large as a Double D when nursing… my daughter sucked them away, and now I’m a B cup just like my mom. I know. Karma.

    What have I learned through this journey of not having boobs, then having boobs, then not having boobs again, to decorating them with painful bondage binds, to freeing them from captivity? What are the lessons I gleaned from caring about them, to then not caring about them?

    Boobs are part of my lady suite and I had wrongly assumed that acquiring them would make me feel more feminine. What actually happened is that they always felt like they were for someone else, rather than for me….

    My boobs were tools to attract others to me, and then me boobs were tools to keep my child alive. In both cases it was more about the “other” than the “self.” It’s not like I ever sat around playing with my tits, molding them like Play Dough into little shapes of animals. They mostly just have sat there, ignored, and collecting dust. Of course tits can be a part of sex – but that’s more about the nipple anyway – the actual size of your breasts has nothing to do with pleasure.

    What I’ve come to think about lingerie is that it’s a costume for women to adorn themselves with to find their identity of “sexy” in sexual situations. It helps both parties get into character. When you think of all the weird, banana pants stuff one does in the bedroom, you kind of have to suspend belief and forget who you actually are for a moment. A rational person would NEVER ask another human to tongue their asshole. That’s just not an activity that makes ANY sense when you think about it in a normal state of mind. So we have ladies ornament themselves with lingerie as part of the process of forgetting all reason and allowing a new version of yourself to come out and not question all their bizarre shit we do to each other’s bodies when possessed by lust.

    Look how much fun they’re having!

  • Cock-Control Gun-Control

    This debate on gun control is obviously not a rational discussion. All you have to do is look at the data, and it’s pretty clear that there are MANY potential solutions that could address this VERY CLEAR issue. Yet trying to talk about this as if it makes sense is part of the problem, because this isn’t a cerebral conversation.

    You know how new age hippies, Buddhist, or people tripping on mushrooms in the park dry-humping tress are always talking about how “we are all one?” Have you ever really thought about what that means? If you think about the origin of life, we came from the chemical compounds of space. We are stardust that landed on earth, basked in some primordial ooze that was pumped by the systems of planet, only to eventually randomly mutate into a collective sludge that ultimately produced the infrastructure of which life was born. There was no individual being that formed first, but rather a COLLECTIVE oozing slush that progressed because of communal sharing of traits and assets.

    We are not individual creatures: we are communal. We cannot separate from the communities we are a part of because it is the communities that shape us. The way human beings were able to survive was because we worked together to hunt, make fire, build tools, sew clothes, and eventually develop iPhones to stare at on the toilet. Every human innovation is made with intention to share with other humans and that’s not just because of capitalism, but it’s our evolutionary advantage.

    Guess what that means!? If you live in a country were violence is the go to strategy when dealing with conflict, you’re going to breed some violent children!

    Neither political platform of Democrat or Republican is anti war. They both love war! The war it up on the regular! It’s not like under Obama there was less war. There was plenty of war! Less chance of a nuclear attack maybe, but wars all over the place!

    Aristotle talked about how the goals and aims of the government dictate what makes a “good citizen.” So what are the goals and aims of the American government? MONEY and WAR! And guess what war does? MAKES MONEY! How convenient!

    That means that the “good citizen” in America is a good capitalist that is also violent and ready for war! This is the message we give our people. Clear as Pepsi Clear!

    We can talk all we want about gun control and being more peaceful, but until our country’s political policies ARE more peaceful, it’s all useless rhetoric. If we want less violence we have to demand our country is less violent. We can’t solve every problem with war. We can’t use war to rape other countries of their resources. We can’t use war to ensure our global dominion. We can’t use war as our profit-making engine to drive our economy.

    If we want to live in a world that doesn’t turn to violence we have to remember that our survival depends on cooperating together, not overpowering each other.

    How do we better cooperate? Well, better communication right? More reasonable expression that remembers that we are more effective as a human species if we quit squabbling amongst each other to prove who has the biggest dick.

    Now I know men are sick of being blamed for all the world’s problems. Reasonable! Most men are not the problem at all. They are happy with their cocks and leave them in their pants politely until invited out! Yet the gun/dick metaphor KEEPS coming up because it’s majority male leaders of nation states that have been the main force of war throughout human history. That’s not blaming men – that’s just noticing a trend. So for me, a dickless human, to understand WHY there is such seemingly pointless violence for the last couple thousand years, I have to wonder if it has to do with cock-control.

    I am an equal opportunity genital person. I don’t want to attack men all willy-nilly. It’s important that I display empathy and compassion for why this might be the case. I would like to get to the root chakra of why the male ego is more fragile than a Faberge Egg? Is it because of his highly sensitive exposed scrotum? Just flopping in the wind, bouncing around as he walks. Does the extremely delicate balls motivate a deep fear in men, because they have to spend so much mental energy protecting them? Is there an angst I can’t understand because men have to compensate for their incredibly susceptible sacks? Is it the smooshy, vulnerable testes that make men more violent? Think about it… why do you think it’s called Goldman Sachs? Coincidence? I think not! Because in truth, all it would take for me to destroy a man is access to his balls. I could just take them, turn them around in my hands like those metal Chinese Baoding balls for a while, and then, when the moment was right, squeeze the shit out of one until…. POP! Is that the problem? Is the tenuous sate of a man’s unprotected testes why we have nuclear war?

    Fine. Maybe I’m being reductive. Yet there is a better way to structure society than murdering people across the globe under the guise of bravery and then patting ourselves on the back for it. Yet as long as war is the status quo, we are unconsciously going to continue to raise violent children that enact violence.

    (At the playground today and guns were brought as boys shot each other…)

    February 21, 2018 • Current Events, Political Banter, Sex Stuff • Views: 558

  • Toni Bologna’s Valentine’s Day Guide To a Loving, Lasting, Lusty, Relationship

    Well it’s that special time of year again where you look at the love of your life, gaze into their adoring eyes, and say, “Fuck, is CVS still open because I forgot to get you something?” Or maybe you’re single and feeling society’s absurd pressure that being alone means your lonely because no one likes to admit the deepest loneliness you will ever feel is in bed next to a person you’re sick of fucking. No matter what your predicament, Valentine’s Day is ready to make you feel inadequate! Yet even though I think Valentine’s has become a commercial nightmare of modern materialism that infiltrates expectations and manipulates minds into feeling eternally unsatisfied regardless of relationship status, it’s still cool to celebrate love I guess?

    I love you, because you love me, and I need you to love me so I can love myself… so thanks for that! As such, here is my gift to you. My Valentine’s guide of relationship advice that I think will make you less of an asshole. You’re welcome!

    1. Treat Others How They Wanted to Be Treated: There is the common cliché to treat others how you want to be treated, which is all fine and dandy with strangers, yet I think you can do better with your partner. You can’t just treat your partner how you want them to treat you because you are different people with different needs. I for one, find unloading the dishwasher an aphrodisiac. Nothing gets me wetter than a clean kitchen! Yet I can’t expect the same of my partner! The key to showing love to the one you love is knowing them well enough to understand THEIR love language. The more you observe what makes THEM happy and what makes THEM feel loved, the more you can speak to them your adoration with your words and actions. It’s not enough to know what you like and what you want, you have to take the next step and learn what THEY like and want. Just because you like a finger in your ass doesn’t mean your partner does! You can’t just go around blasting asses without knowing the crucial information of this being an appreciated act! The key to being a loving partner is having curiosity about how your partner wants to be loved and appreciated. If this feels mysterious to you, then ask your partner how and when they feel most loved by you and I’m 100% sure they will have some suggestions.

    2. Just Because You Feel Mad Doesn’t Mean You Have To Act That Way: People fight in relationships. This is normal. Sometimes you get mad at your partner. Sometimes your rage is reasonable, and sometimes it’s your own fucking problem. Yet when you’re angry it can be hard to differentiate if your reasoning is rational, or merely a product of your own unresolved issues. But guess what you guys? Just because you’re mad, doesn’t mean you have to act that way. You can easily express with words, “I’m upset by your actions and need to take time to process my feelings,” yet still act cordial. There is literally no reason to ACT like a dick just because you’re hurt. You can be hurt, yet simultaneous treat your partner with respect. They aren’t going to hear or understand your pain more just because you’re huffing and puffing, slamming doors, yelling, or breaking computers. You don’t have to put your partner down with insults, or have that aggressive guarded energy where your face is all contorted and your body language resembles Mike Pence. You can be mad and act kind at the same time!

    3. Only Argue When Your Heart is Open for a Solution: You know that feeling when you’re really upset about something, and you’re just not ready to not be upset? Well that’s the worse time to talk to your partner. When your heart is closed and your holding onto your anger, bad day, frustration, nothing your partner says is going to change that. It’s fine to have your heart closed and wallow in self-pity, but that doesn’t mean you have to inflict that energy on the person you love – that’s what Fiona Apple is for. When you don’t feel like feeling better, then fine! Stay in that mode and listen to music, or punch a punching bag. Yet there is no need to argue in that state of mind. It won’t go anywhere! You’ll just go round and round in circles in a merry-go-round of past resentments. Only talk to your partner about problems when your heart is open to finding a solution.

    4. You Don’t Have To Join Every Fight You’re Invited to: Sometimes your partner is in a pissy mood and ready to pick a fight, yet that doesn’t mean you have to accept their invitation. Nine times out of ten we inflict pain because we feel pain. So rather than getting seduced into a blame game about not filling up the car with gas, instead try and show compassion that the person in front of you that is being really argumentative, and annoying, and making you want to pinch in the genitals is probably hurting from profound unsettled past traumas. This is a great opportunity to take a step back, breathe, and see if you can help them uncover what is actually causing them suffering.

    5. Get Ready for A Life Time of Forgiveness: You’re going to have to forgive your partner for their bullshit behavior… a lot. Just as you’re going to have to forgive yourself for your own bullshit behavior. Getting close to someone and fostering intimacy means that people will let their guard’s downs, and sometimes get emotionally lazy. When you’re around someone a lot, it’s hard to always be your best self, and that’s understandable. When you feel truly comfortable around someone, you tend to have moments where you try less hard, which leads to lame behavior. So when your partner acts wack, the best way to forgive them is coming together to understand WHY they acted that way. Dissecting the motivation of destructive behavior will help change the pattern. The more you focus on the “why,” and not the “what,” the easer it will be to understand each other and ourselves. So the next time you do something that you later realize was pretty unnecessary, figure out why you acted in that manner, do your best to understand how to improve that part of yourself, and forgive yourself for not always being your best self because you can learn a lot from your worst self too.

    6. You Don’t Have to Change to Be Loved, Just Suck Less: A lot of people feel the pressure to change in a relationship. You have to change to be a better partner. You have to change to be a better person. But guess what? You don’t have to change. Change in an insane expectation. We aren’t grasshoppers that can morph into locusts to create ecological mayhem across the grasslands! We’re humans, and no matter what, we can’t change that fact. I’m telling you to stop expecting yourself to change because change feels very daunting and basically impossible. Thinking you have to change is exhausting, and will probably make you not even try. How about you see things this way? You’re already a perfect being of light with infinite potential. All the things you want to be, you already are, or have the latent talent to be. You want to work harder… well; there is a part of you that already knows how to do that. Just be that part of you more often. You want to eat better? There is also a part of you that knows how to do that, so be that part of you a greater percentage of the day. You want to be kinder, more patient, more loving?? You already are those things somewhere inside you, just be that way more often. You don’t have to change; you just have to be your best self for a greater part of the day. You don’t have to change because you have so much beauty inside you already because you are perfectly capable of being your best self more often.

    7. You Have to Share Reality With Your Partner: This one is key, and has a lot do with self-reflection. You have to be open with your partner and yourself about the wounds of your past. You have to understand your inner child, how they were traumatized, and how they act out in your adult life. You have to take the time to unpack your conditioning, and deprogram yourself from society’s socialization. This is no easy task and most people avoid asking these hard questions because it’s emotionally taxing to truly take the time to know yourself. But the more you know yourself, the more you can be vulnerable and honest with you partner about your inadequacies. This is crucial because the worst thing you can do to your partner is hurt them deeply, and then not understand the pain you caused. But you can’t understand the pain you cause, unless you understand the pain you were caused. It’s like a bio feedback loop of suffering that Elon Musk should make a car from and then blast into space. When you know yourself, you can better understand your impact on your partner, and share their reality about how you’re perceived. Maybe you’re really jealous because a past love has cheated on you? Maybe you take out that jealousy on your partner because you’re scared of losing them? Maybe your jealousy manifests in a destructive way that pushes your partner away? You have to own that you’re like that, share why you’re like that, and work together to heal from past pain. Maybe you feel love is conditional because your parents didn’t emotionally invest in you and you felt abandoned? Maybe that makes you hyper needy and subsequently smothering? You have to embrace the truth of your fears around love because you are unconsciously punishing your partner because of past pain. You have to share in the reality you create with your partner, and both equally understand the parts you play. You can’t be playing Othello while your partner is playing King Lear. Those roles don’t share a common reality. You have to be in the same Shakespearean saga with your partner and develop a mutual understanding of both the love and pain you share.

    February 14, 2018 • emotions, Musings, Relationships, Sex Stuff • Views: 1429

  • The REAL Reason Women Get Their Periods

    Guess what everybody!? It’s that glorious time of the lunar cycle where I shed my menses out into the ethereal material of the multiverse, painting the cosmos with cherry colored uterine debris. Aren’t you so excited to hear this!? That right now, at this very moment, I am leaking as if there were womb wine makers stomping their bare feet into my ovaries!

    If you’re anything like me (and for you’re sake I will say prayers under Tibetan flags that you’re not), you might find yourself contemplating the nature of bloody vaginal secretions while sipping you’re morning tea. Why is it that ladies experience this delightful monthly ceremony where we have to curtsy to the gods of cotton, bowing to the soft snowy material in reverence for our dependence? It can’t just be because God’s punishing half of humanity for Eve’s original sin of tasting the forbidden fruit, especially because we can’t really blame her for the snake’s seduction. After all, apples are low calorie and you know how society likes to keep its women thin!

    Is there some greater message to be received by these persistent periods beyond the body’s continual reminder of potential procreation?

    You bet your sweet ass there is.

    Your period is mother’s nature secret gift to us ladies. Don’t be jealous men – you have your phallic elements too, your towers that pierce the sky, missiles that blast through the air, and carrots that penetrate the earth. But Gaia has bestowed upon women this lovely bodily experience of bleeding through your pajamas, past your sheets, and deep into your mattress as a means to whisper into your ear canal a crucial lesson that must be remembered time and time again. A tap on the shoulder to activate awareness beyond the kerfuffle of dealing the accouterment of all the various devices we must use to catch, capture, and collect the shedding of our walls. Yes my friends, we must honor and praise the period because it does one thing to all of us that is actually vastly important to our psychological selves.

    It makes us bitchy.

    Why is this important you may wonder? Well, having to sleuth the arrival of my fallopian’s farewell to my unfertilized child has made me a detective of sorts, sorting out the emotional puzzle of the hormonal flooding inspired by the deluge of ruby fluid. Being a normally kind, tolerant, peaceful person, the gift of the bitchy rage that accompanies my yoni’s yawing is actually the KEY ingredient to unlocking a crucial side in my personality.

    My period doesn’t feel the pressure to be conformist and come every 28 days like the rest of the periods. NO! My period is a rebel that challenges the confines of society and arrives whenever it pleases. This is not a status quo kind of period, but a revolutionary menstruation that wants to defy all laws of logic, physics, and convenience. As such, I never really know when this allusive period will arrive. It’s always lurking in the shadows of possibility, stealthily stalking my every move. I don’t have warning cramps to alert my body’s eco-system that it will momentarily be bombarded with bombs of red tissue. There is no alarm that goes off cautioning me of soon to be stained panties. But what does happen to me is that I start to feel a primordial fury about the horrors of humanity.

    Now, if you know me, you know that I’m always talking about the patriarchy this, the patriarchy that, and blah blah blah the patriarchy. Yet I don’t always FEEL the abhorrent reality of how the world functions. I can simultaneously know that there is massive unnecessary suffering, yet still have a conversation about benign topics like putting butter in one’s coffee to still get high off caffeine, but not as high. Of course in the back of my mind there is always this persistent nagging that we are at 2 minutes on the doomsday clock, punching in for our ultimate peril – but I can still function like a relatively “normal” person and not scream “we’re all gonna die!” in the face of my green grocer.

    Yet when I get my period, it’s as if all the social convention and historical expectation to be a “good girl” melts into the magma of my fiery blood. I no longer want to play nice or say nothing when a man looks me in my face and questions if gender even matters for women anymore. That side of me that is accommodating, overly cautious, and afraid to make others uncomfortable suddenly flies out the window like a pad with wings. My period awakens the kraken inside that yearns to speak my truth and say things like, “Hey dude, why don’t you shut the fuck up before I plug up your mouth hole with my tampon.” But, don’t worry; I would never actually do that because I don’t wear tampons… but come to think of it, I could just free bleed onto his face, which would have the same effect.

    I’m just spit-balling here!

    Men may wonder why women get so “emotional” during their periods, and not to be gendered or anything, but it is a biological difference that is significant to the female experience. Not that men don’t get their “Manses” because they do, but the influence of my period on my behavior is significant enough to reshape my days, and define my time.

    The reason why I get an attitude is because my period is an unveiling of reality. The hormonal spikes are my body’s way of taking off the blinders of thousands of years of the conditioning women. The rose tinted glasses become flooded with a crimson tide, and I’m reminded how women’s bodies have been used and abused. I recall that women are raped, killed, and tortured because of wars waged by men. I remember how the violence inflicted on the environment is caused by a patriarchal system of economics devised by the fathers of the state, and controlled by the titans of industry.

    I’m not shitting on all men. Of course not! So many men have honorary periods where they too feel the horror of the elevator in The Shining reenacted in their underpants… metaphorically of course. For those men I lovingly extend my panty liner, and fill their hearts with the contents of my diva cup. Those glorious males, or gender fluid people who like me, feel the oppression and confines of society and desperately seek another way. When I talk of the patriarchy it’s not about men vs woman but rather an acknowledgement that a system that’s benefited few men has a vast influence on all of humanity’s organizing principals from religion, to capitalism, to war, to the insatiable thirst for power. This masculine way of ruling is not about all men, but the definition of masculinity that glorifies violence towards women, and the planet.

    So that’s why we are bitchy. We see the truth for one week of every month. We feel the pain of our “president” saying he’s not a feminist, meaning he doesn’t believe in equal rights for women. The period is that special time that chips away at the pressures the patriarchy has put on us women to just shut up and take it. That’s why as women get older, and have had more and more periods to scrape away the mind control, we start to rebel more and shave our armpits less. As a young woman I tolerated things I never would today because my menses has rewired my brain over the years to say, “Hey Toni, you actually don’t have do things you don’t want to.” Our periods are a secret sacrament that engages our souls and remind us that we should be fighting against the crimes against us. Then, after 5-7 days the veil comes back up and we smile, make you a sammich, and suck your dick again.

    February 8, 2018 • emotions, Health, Musings, Sex Stuff, Vagina Stuff, Women's Business • Views: 586

  • Maybe We Should Get to Know Each other BEFORE Getting Naked?

    Toni: I totally forgot about that attempted rape!!!!

    That was an actual sentence that came out of my mouth last weekend. I wasn’t trying to be flippant – it was just an authentic reaction to a memory I hadn’t thought about since it happened. Not because I was repressing trauma (I don’t think) but more because it was just one of so many times where a man tried to sexually violate me that I swept it under the Persian rug of my consciousness. I got away, and nothing happened, so why file it in the memory banks? That’s how many #metoo moments a lady can have. So many, you forget about the ones you escape.

    Sadly, not every time I was in a creepy situation with a guy did I feel tough enough to scream in his face, “I’m going to cut off your dick and eat it” – too many times I felt the opposite. I have plenty of memories where I felt unsure and unsafe. I acquiesced. I resigned. I did things I didn’t want to do because I didn’t have it in me to yell about chomping off penises. This is the problem with the gray area around sexual assault. The story that Aziz Ansari is currently the unwilling ambassador of. The encounters that leave a woman feeling sexually violated even though she wasn’t held down with a gun to her head, and the man is left confused, not believing he did anything wrong. I think in Western American culture we have come to a common understanding of what violent rape is, but we have no idea about the massive spectrum of harm against women that is now dominating the conversation.

    WE NEED TO TALK ABOUT THE GRAY AREA!!

    Not just us ladies. If men want to stop getting accused of being rapey they’ve got to be open to understanding why shit feels rapey. Probably a lot of men are thinking right now, “Shut the fuck up… just shut the fuck up about all this. Your feelings make me uncomfortable so stop sharing them. Shut the fuck up and take it.” Well, we have. We’ve shut the fuck up for thousands of years and now we’re done being quiet.

    Women are trying to talk about it, and that is actually the MOST important part of this movement. Sure it sucks for these public figures that are now becoming the reluctant figureheads of these dialogues. It may not feel fair to some that Aziz is experiencing a massive public shaming for behaving in a way that millions of men do daily. But you know what else isn’t fair? The millions of women getting raped at this moment across the world. Life isn’t fair. It hasn’t been fair for women since the dawn of the patriarchy, and it hasn’t been fair for most men either. Some men that aren’t technically “bad” men are going to go down, and yeah, it’s a real bummer for them – but it’s also the ONLY way men will listen. I think many of us feel conflicted because who wants a seemingly benign dude like Aziz to be the poster boy for sexual assault? Especially when what he did feels so relatable to so many? Trust me, I’d rather have a white piece of shit like Weinstein continue to be the face of the #metoo stories because I hate the racial undertones. Yet Weinstein was such a monster that most men were like “Shit, I’m not like that mother fucker so I must be okay.” The reality is that these more common stories have to be the ones we’re paying equal attention to even if they lack the obvious violence of the Weinstein style rapes. The more men identify with Aziz and his story the more men will develop a greater curiosity to understand what all these “lady feelings” are about when it comes to sexual assault. The more men that burn in fire of this flaming desire women have to be heard, the more men will wake up and listen.

    This is not a bad thing. This is actually really important for men, women, intimacy and culture. I think we’re actually evolving, or at least the process is in front of us. Yet the question shouldn’t be “why don’t these women just leave if they feel uncomfortable,” but rather “why aren’t men curious about the woman’s sexual and emotional experience?”

    Of course there are instances when husbands rape their wives. There are countless stories of someone you know raping you. This happens too. Knowing each other will not stop all rape, but it will have an impact on these millions of confused moments between strangers. In modern western “hook up culture” having sex with a stranger has become normalized. Yet there are MANY problems with this expectation that you should get naked with someone you barely know. One major issue is that you have NO idea their sexual history or experience with trauma. When you don’t know a person, you have no way of knowing if they are fucking you because they want to, or because they have become psychically paralyzed and are trying to get away from you but don’t know how. Our personal histories contribute to our sexuality and how we react to situations that feel violating. Not every person that feels scared is going to speak out and let you know. Sometimes they are too petrified to say how terrified they really are. If you don’t know them, how would you have the emotional intelligence to pick up on their energy? As a man, isn’t that something you want to know?? Don’t most men want the woman they are with to genuinely want them? So if men like Aziz Ansari don’t want women to blog about them publically and tell their #metoo stories when they think they were just having a good time, they might actually have to get to know women before fucking them.

    Is this a bad thing? I don’t think so. Women are actually pretty interesting. We are worth getting to know. Yet we live in a culture that treats people as if they are disposable. Both men and women have become so accustomed to fucking strangers that the expectation to connect to a person intimately is no longer a pre-requisite of sex. We have stripped all the humanity from sex when we continue to refuse to actually know each other, know each other’s pain, and have curiosity for who we actually are. I’m not suggesting we expect each other to live out a Jane Austen novel, but rather, I don’t know… start developing a more patient and curious dynamic with the people we plan to share our bodies with? We’re more willing to expose our genitals to someone than we are our hearts.

    Sure the occasional one-night-stand can be fun – but that still needs to be a respectful encounter where BOTH parties are pretty clear of their intentions. This means that rather than using another person’s body to masturbate with, we actually have to have a real conversation making sure the exchange is mutual. Call me old fashioned but my best sexual experiences are when the guy I am with is interested in my experience with him. He is caring and aware of not only my pleasure, but also checking in if what he’s doing is okay. What makes the scene hot is his genuine interest in me as a human, even if I never see him again. And guys, wouldn’t you rather air on the side of caution??? Let me tell you something, when I want a guy, I fucking make that shit known. If I’m going to have a one-night stand, I’m goddamn ready to do that. I promise you – the type of woman that’s down to fuck for the night is the type of woman that will go after you. There is no need to push yourself on someone feeling timid because that’s a sure fire sign that she’s NOT INTO IT!

    We don’t need a movie “he’s not that into you,” we need the movie “she’s not that into your dick so don’t force it on her okay sweetie?”

    There are too many instances where men are caught off guard by how they make a woman feel during their sexual encounter. The apology of Aziz is maybe the most disturbing part of the story – how these two people were on SUCH drastically different pages regarding the same event. Him thinking she wants it, her feeling assaulted. Him believing that because he texted her a few times and took her out to dinner that he was being a gentleman, her feeling used and abused. The most crucial part of this narrative is how almost every woman and man in this country can relate to it. We’ve all been there, so now we all can talk about it.

    Texting someone a few times is not getting know someone. We pretend it is because so much of our communication is now through that medium, but a text convo is not going to build trust in an authentic way. Having a “text” relationship before a date is NOT building the intimacy necessary to be respectful during sex. For her to be able to say “I am uncomfortable” and for him to actually hear that. I know Aziz doesn’t want to think of himself as rapey, but he also wasn’t interested in this woman’s pleasure. He wasn’t interested in her mind. He wasn’t shoving his fingers down her throat while asking her what her favorite book was, or if she was close with her father. When women are objects of sex for men, there is no reason for men to try and understand who women are. I’m sorry to say this guys, but women are kind of sick of being sex dolls.

    We fear intimacy because we fear love because we fear getting hurt because we fear ourselves because we fear intimacy because we fear love because we fear getting hurt. YOU GET IT? We are driven by fear. Men treat women like androids not because they are brave, but because they are scared. They are afraid of women because women can hurt their hearts. So why not think of a woman as purely a pussy because that’s easier than being vulnerable to the potential pain she may cause? It’s a pre-emptive strike. If I treat you like you mean nothing to me, then you can’t make me feel like nothing.

    Everything about modern culture is actually tearing us away from each other. Most porn is a psychological barrier objectifying women and sex. Social media is a physical barrier fooling us that an online community is as valuable as real life interaction. The patriarchy is the ruling system dividing the genders and creating power dynamics that affect every facet of how we interact. We can’t talk about rape culture and #metoo moments without deconstructing the societal infrastructure that supports this complete lack of genuine connection. The complicated reality is that for men to know women, they also have to know themselves. There is no more avoiding the self. The day of reckoning has come. We are all victims of culture, yet we all have to take responsibility for our actions.

    So I know guys – it’s hard. But think of it this way. If every man had to suffer the social consequences of being sexually inappropriate with women then holy shit we’d have to restructure the entire planet because there is a lot of them. All those high powered 1%-ers, those lizard people politicians and executives would no longer be in power. Men in all industries would fall. It would be kind of amazing. Maybe this is what all people have been waiting for? Our current society is fucked as fuck, on the brink of nuclear war, and in the midst of environmental mayhem. I am willing to bet my left tit that 99% of the top 1% of men that are currently destroying all hope for humanity have sexually assaulted women. So if this #metoo movement means these dudes lose power and a new infrastructure must be formed in it’s wake then actually… everyone wins!

  • Maybe you shouldn’t masturbate at people?

    Wow. You guys. Life just keeps getting better huh! I mean every time I sit down to look at the news and see such great stuff like Harvey Weinstein masturbated at a woman, I think to myself, “Man, what a wonderful world.”

    I mean, who masturbates at another person? How do people come up with this stuff? And what is the thought process behind this rational? How does someone’s brain start firing off the synapses that say, “Oh, huh. I see this woman is not interested in me sexually and is actively refuting my attempted physical invasion in this restaurant kitchen – a totally appropriate venue to try and fuck a stranger mind you. No worries. I’ll just pull out my flaccid pink dick, and then rub it really fast at her. After a good few minutes of furious hunched over tugging at my dick, it will spew some semen and pulse for a bit while still dripping cum onto the floor. Yeah. That’s a good idea. That’ll show her to not be not attracted to me.”

    Can you imagine a woman doing this to a man? Also it would be such a more complicated and involved process because chicks often have more of a ritual when it comes to their masturbating technique. Unlike Harvey’s uncanny talent of being able to stand erect while yanking, we ladies tend to set the mood.

    Can we just envision a female Hollywood executive cornering a young hot man with her aggressive advances, and then reacting to his rejection with, “Oh yeah, you don’t want me? Well I’m just gonna masturbate AT you then. Hold on a second. I just have to light some of these candles first. Maybe put on “No Ordinary Love” by Sade. Now I have to find my pillows. Wait sir, could you just lay down on the floor with me so we can maintain eye contact? I have to lie tummy down, but my pelvis has to be positioned just so. Wait, can you pass me one more pillow, I need just the right angle. Okay that’s great. Actually can you also go turn on the fan for me because I like to drown out my thoughts with the white noise? Okay perfect, thanks. Now I’m just going gyrate around like this for a bit, but make sure we keep looking into each other’s souls okay? Hold me.”

    I’m sure women are not the only victims of high power executives in Hollywood wanting sexual favors in exchange for that great role in Alvin and The Chipmunks 7. This kind of culture is rampant in tinsel town. Men experience it too. I’d bet many men trying to “make it” also have stories of other men being sexual predators towards them. Men abuse men as they do women; it’s just even less talked about because there is all this gay shaming in our great nation. If you’re a heterosexual man you’re even less likely to talk about sexual assault from another man.

    It’s hard for me to relate to the psychology of someone who gets off on abusing others sexually because call me old fashioned, but I kind of like it when my partner is genuinely attracted to me. I can literally think of a thousand better things to do with your dick rather than forcing it on someone who doesn’t want it starting with seeing if an M&M fits in your pee hole. Of course as we all know too well rape culture exists everywhere not just Hollywood, yet the fame of Harvey Weinstein makes this very common occurrence news worthy.

    But here’s my question. Were you surprised when you heard that Harvey Weinstein was a rapey monster? Nope. I don’t think you were. Your reaction was probably a lot like mine. “Yeah that makes sense. I can see that.” His face looks like a banana peel. Rich and powerful men that didn’t get laid in high school are primed for a lifetime of exploiting their money and influence to exploit women. We’ve seen this before.

    What I am surprised about, but shouldn’t be, is that fact that his wife is NOT STANDING BY HIS MOTHER FUCKING SIDE BUT INSTEAD IS STANDING WITH THE VICTIMS!!

    Georgina Chapman recently said: “My heart breaks for all the women who have suffered tremendous pain because of these unforgivable actions. I have chosen to leave my husband. Caring for my young children is my first priority and I ask the media for privacy at this time,”

    Is it sad that I am astonished by this!? Hell yes! My shock at her leaving him is sadder than my lack of shock that jerk off Harvey was jerking off on people. How fucking tragic is it that I was more astonished by her actions than his?????!!!!!!!!!

    So many women have loyally STOOD BY their dick face husbands when accused of rape. Even one woman is one woman too many.

    The trauma of sexual assault doesn’t end with the event happening to you, but continues as you suffer the constant questioning of your story. If you were robbed no one would ever ask you, “are you sure you were robbed?” or assume you were lying about being robbed for attention. There also wouldn’t be this covert public acceptance of, “well, sometimes you just have to be robbed to get what you want.”

    I get that when you are robbed you have property taken from you that you could “prove” is now missing, but when you are raped a lot is also taken from you – it’s just harder to point to because you don’t have a receipt for that piece of your soul.

    It’s one thing to have to relive a horrific event in your memories; it’s another to have your painful experience then doubted by others. That must not only exacerbate the pain, but also dig it in even deeper. One of the worst experiences is when someone thinks you’re lying when you’re not, and when it comes to sexual assault, there will ALWAYS be a population of people not trusting your side of the story because you might just be admitting this deeply humiliating incident because you wanted to be in the papers. You know how ladies LOVE getting press about rape. It’s so good for their personal brands and all.

    Everyone who is openly standing against Weinstein is sending a crucial message. That message shouts out to all the victims of sexual assault who felt they couldn’t tell their mothers of their experience with incest because they feared they would be blamed for their father’s abuse. These words speak out to all the women who held in their suffering because the horror of not being believed was too much to risk. It speaks to all the women who exposed themselves and their pain by pointing out their assailants in the face of being interrogated as if they were asking for it, or acting as if their assault wasn’t really that bad.

    BUT…

    Now this is a big but. SOOOOO MANY PEOPLE were complicit to Weinstein’s horrid ways, including his wife. There is no way she didn’t hear the many rumors about her husband, because it turns out that fucker’s fuckery was the talk of the town for the past 30 years. TONS of people covered up his actions because they’d rather work with him than against him. Again, maybe I’m just a stickler, but it wouldn’t take a media frenzy for me to look into my husband being a raper. I would just have to hear one whisper of his raping ways, and you bet your sweet ass I would figure out if that shit was true… which it PROBABLY IS BECAUSE THE PERCENTAGE OF FAKE RAPE ACCUSATIONS IS PRETTY DAMN LOW!

    At this point anyone defending Weinstein looks like an idiot, so yeah, it’s on trend right now to distance oneself from his rapey reputation. I can’t get too Pollyanna about Chapman leaving him, or any of those people finally coming to the side of the victims. Too many of those same people not only turned another cheek, they rotated it all the way around like Reagan in the exorcist. That also sends a goddamn message to all the rape victims out there that tried desperately to get help and told someone they hoped would care that ended up plugging their ears instead.

    Men raping women is one thing. The hundreds of people that sit by and do nothing as men rape women is another thing. The fact that money, power, influence, and movie studios buys your capacity of being able to force yourself on others while everyone around kind of knows but what are you going to do about it…. says a lot about how much we value these things. No one was taking personal responsibility about knowing Weinstein was a raper just like he wasn’t held responsible for his raping ways.

    It took 30 years and many settlements to take this dude down, so it’s not looking good.

    Maybe the only way things will change in the future is if people who aided and embedded this asshole are also charged. The type of person that is pathological enough to rape someone is pretty far gone psychologically, but the bystanders who let it happen are kind of just regular people. If we can’t stop maniacs developing that would feel entitled to rape, we can for sure put the fear of god in anyone who knows and does nothing. People get charged with being an accessory to a crime when it comes to murder, so why not sexual assault?

    October 12, 2017 • Current Events, Sex Stuff, Vagina Stuff, Women's Business • Views: 1794

  • The Fragile Male Ego

    I don’t think it takes a rocket scientist, a brain surgeon, or even someone who knows how to toast a waffle to recognize the ego battle between US President Donald Tr… excuse me I just gagged a little… Donald Trump and North Korean Prime Minster Kim Jong-Un. So much of our current foreign policy seems to be a theatric display of men playing Star Wars, using their dicks as lightsabers, and the world as their playground for destruction. I don’t know about you guys, but I’m not ready to die because of the massive ego of a small-handed man. Even though the Trump regime is trying to make us fear North Korea, the real person to fear is Trump, his volatile personality, and irrational taunting. In truth, the world is and should be much more afraid of America than we should be afraid of the rest of the world, because so far, we’re the only one’s who have ever dropped nuclear weapons. SAD!

    The US has been at war for 224 years since the “birth” of the country in 1776.That means we’ve only been a peaceful nation for 17 years? How is this okay? Where wars waged mostly by men are the ruling influence on the planet? Yes of course there is profit to war. Yes there are resources to exploit. Yes there are colonies to be made. Yes there is this constant pursuit of power – but WHY? Why is this a world of competition not cooperation? Isn’t it so dreadfully clear that this psychology is vastly destructive? Even though women are a part of the military and a part of the political system, it is clear that the majority of our war mongering history has been initiated by men. What is the root behind all the violence?

    Is Donald Trump’s ego the ultimate manifestation of the male ego that’s been in power for the last couple of millennia?

    The fragile male ego is perhaps the most elusive force on the planet. It has a mysterious power unbeknownst to even the most learned astrophysicist. More prevalent than dark matter, and beholds a powerful vacuum that rivals the black hole in the center of our galaxy. It has taken over the planet, and all of humanity bows to its glory. The male ego is the driving force of our economic system, political system, and even the solar system.

    That isn’t to say that ladies don’t have egos. Ohhhhh we do. Of course we do. But the lady ego is not in power. If the lady ego were the standard, we would be competing about who has the most beautiful gardens/national parks, which army’s outfits fit the best, and who hosted the most delicious country-wide bake sale. Maybe there would be some disagreements regarding who is the most popular dictator, but we would deal with that by gossiping behind each other’s backs… NOT BLOWING PEOPLE UP WITH NUCLEAR MISSILES!!!!!!!!!

    Come to think of it, would the lady ego have even developed the nuclear bomb? I THINK NOT! Perhaps a cosmic clam but it would simply be cozy place to store our enemies while we taunted them by offering cookies with BOTH gluten and sugar. “Here you go. Have a delicious cookie. Just remember, a moment on the lips, a lifetime on your hips you lady terrorist who terrorized me by hiding my tampons on day 2 of my period! All I had was toilet paper. It was a mess!”

    That is a world run by the lady ego. Is that reductive? YES! Of course but only because it’s impossible to imagine how ladies would run the world without male influence. Every element of society has been influenced by the male identity, and women have just learned to squeeze ourselves in, not revolutionize it.

    But the male ego, the fragile male ego. Holy shit. They make bombs that look like their dicks that dick over an entire nation in a matter of seconds by coming too fast and all over their metaphoric face. It’s a lot. It’s a lot to take in.

    Yet, I am an equal opportunity genital person. I don’t want to attack men all willy-nilly. It’s important that I display empathy and compassion. I would like to get to the root chakra of this conundrum of why the male ego is more fragile than a Faberge Egg?

    Is it because of his highly sensitive exposed scrotum? Just flopping in the wind, bouncing around as he walks. Does the extremely delicate balls sack motivate a deep fear in men, because they have to spend so much mental energy protecting them? Is there an angst I can’t understand because my genitals are all tucked in a like a suitcase, durable, and prepared for a journey? Yet all it would take for me to destroy a man is access to his balls. I could take them, turn them around in my hands like those metal Chinese Baoding balls for a while, and then, when the moment was right, squeeze the shit out of one until POP! Is that the problem? Is the tenuous sate of a man’s unprotected testes why we have nuclear war?

    Perhaps the boner is the main source of the male ego. I can imagine a boner is a very stressful thing. Again, a difficulty we women don’t have. I have never experienced performance anxiety about my boner. Of course a woman can be dry when she is not turned on, yet both parties can pretend that’s not happening with some spit, lube, coconut oil, of course the slime collected in packaged meat. There is an easy fix for the lack of lady boners. But when a man can’t get a boner, there is not much one can do about it except look at his flaccid penis and say, “it’s okay little guy. Better luck next time.”

    Maybe I’m wrong. I’m open to being wrong. But then you tell me why! Why is the male ego so goddamn fragile that he will rape, pillage, and bomb the shit out of countries just to prove its existence? Aren’t there other ways to make money and feel powerful? Like say, create an app, or start a podcast.

    April 20, 2017 • Current Events, emotions, Political Banter, Sex Stuff, Vagina Stuff • Views: 1303

  • Lessons From A Love Triangle

    Women tell each other everything. Donald Trump’s locker room doesn’t have shit compared to the average relationship between two women. If you’re in a relationship with a women, you can bet your sweet ass that every single one of her close friends could pick out your dick in a police line up it’s been described to her in such precise detail. Her friends know if you’re munching on muff, and that you like taint tickled in the morning. I highly suggest you never look those ladies in the eyes again.

    Women tend to have incredibly personal, intimate relationships with each other. They’re comfortable sharing their feelings, admitting vulnerabilities, and discussing the minutia of their lives. I’ve no joke had a friend send me a pic of her puss once, asking if a mysterious bump looked normal. Female friendships often border on therapy sessions, and definitely tow the doctor patient confidentiality line considering how much we reveal to each other.

    Men however, are mostly more reserved in their relationships with other men. Where women tend to talk about themselves in their conversations, men talk more about subjects. If you were a fly on the wall listening to a bunch of chicks chatting, chances are you would here a lot about love, relationships, family, and other more personal themes. And definitely a lot about periods. Yet a gaggle of guys would discuss more abstract subjects – sports, cars, politics, current events, etc… It’s not because men don’t care about their personal lives, or women are uninterested in social issues, this is more a reflection of different cultures of communication. I’ve had many deep philosophical inquiries about societal matters with my lady friends, but those talks are not as common. Just as I am sure there are moments where a dude will open up to a friend about some problem he’s having, but that’s also a more rare occurrence.

    Because of this, most hetero men don’t get into deep personal confessions with each other, and only have women to expose themselves to. This creates a dynamic where women see the weakest part of a man, and are the only ones he will reveal that part of himself to. The role of women is then defined by picking up the emotional fragments of not only each other, but also the men in their lives. Their romantic connection becomes burdened by the reality that she’s the only person he ever opens up to. He doesn’t turn to others to get advice about their relationship, or learn how to better behave – and only has her to process his feelings with. That’s a lot to ask, especially because you then expect her to blow you like a Nintendo cartridge circa 1989.

    I think this way of being is doing a major disservice to all genders! We need to shake shit up!

    Wouldn’t we all be happier if these ratios changed around a bit? Although I am genuinely interested in the relationship plights of my friends, I think women need more opportunities to talk out some of their shit out with dudes. We need more cross gender friendships, and for men to take on emotionally driven conversations. That way my girl can get some insider trading information about the male species – and I can get a break from hearing about how Carl is a douche nozzle so she and I can spend our energy discussing the Federal Reserve instead.

    I also think male relationships would benefit if they relied on each other more emotionally. It’s said the men are some of the loneliest people because they lack genuine feelings of closeness to others. Masculinity doesn’t encourage revealing the underbelly of your emotional self, and hiding that part of you can make you feel isolated and alienated. We need to teach our men and boys to gossip like the girls of the WB.

    Girls are conditioned from a young age to know how to deal with issues around relationships, and intimacy. Most media targeted to girls have subplots of love. Almost every cartoon The Munch watches has talk of boyfriends, or the characters having crushes. This pony likes that pony and wants to marry him, or this monster thinks that monster is a cutie-pie (despite the fact his body is covered in scales). Young boys, however, don’t often talk about these things with each other, and media they consume isn’t pushing these concepts down their throats. There is no ménage à trois in Transformers. Because girls are exposed to relationship drama, they start to develop an understanding of the importance around it, where with boys they lack the language to start the conversation because it’s not in their lexicon.

    I was playing with Munch the other day and I couldn’t believe her emotional intelligence when it comes to matters of the heart. She’s like the ultimate wing woman. As can be seen in the below drama that was created with the Little Mermaid dolls.

    Munch: Okay Mama. You will be human Ariel, and I will be mermaid Ariel.
    Toni: But aren’t they the same person, just different time periods?
    Munch: Ummm they are just different people now.
    Toni: But both named Ariel?
    Munch: Right. Human Ariel and Mermaid Ariel.
    Toni: Got it.
    Munch: And Human Ariel is in love with Eric. You act Eric too. But you have to make them really in love, and I better believe it.

    BETTER BELIEVE IT! Okay… so my plan was to fuck with Munch a bit, and let her know what it’s actually like when your friend is in love.

    Munch: Hey Human Ariel, you wanna play?
    Toni: No I can’t. I’m in love with Eric, so I just want to spend time with him. I don’t really have time for you right now.
    Munch: Oh. That’s okay. I totally understand.

    WHAT??? That was her reaction?? To totally understand!!?

    Munch: Hey Human Ariel, I made this new friend, her name is Barbie. Do you want to meet her?
    Toni: No Mermaid Ariel. Like I said, I’m in love with Eric so I really don’t have time for you right now, or meeting new friends. I just want to spend time with him.
    Munch. That’s okay. That happens when you’re in love. Just let me know when you’re done and ready to play.

    I WAS LIKE HOLY SHIT! THIS KID REALLY KNOWS HOW TO BE A GOOD FRIEND.

    Toni: Okay Mermaid Ariel. I’m bored of Eric now. I’ll meet your friend.
    Munch: Hi. I’m Barbie. Sometimes I get bored of Ken too. It happens. Shall we go an adventure?

    Okay… it’s official that Munch is ready to be an awesome friend when she grows up.

    April 5, 2017 • emotions, Musings, Relationships, Sex Stuff, Vagina Stuff • Views: 1060

  • Scratching That Itch Doesn’t Make it Go Away – it Just Moves it

    We’ve all had those moments where you ask someone to scratch your back, and some willing, but slightly irritated victim obeys. No one wants to scratch someone else’s back because as a rational person you know what you’re in for – a journey into the impossibility of satiating an itch. Seconds after the skin scraping ritual begins, the itch moves. “A little to the left,” you say. Once again, it moves. “Now back to the right,” you instruct as their nails skid across your human casing. “Now up… down… over… to the left… no to the right I said… back down again… up… more up… up some more… and…”

    An itch isn’t meant to be relieved; it is designed to torture you with craving. We fool ourselves into thinking that digging your claws into the right spot will make it go away. We forget the unavoidable truth that the very nature of yearning is rooted in the harsh reality that even when you get what you want, it isn’t what you want any more. Our collective story is fraught with examples of this. I want that man, but now that I have him, he bores me. I think that those drugs would feel divine, yet now I am puking into my shirt. I need that job – huh, boy this job is stressful. I need a vacation, and now I need a vacation from my vacation. I’ll go on this dating app to have meaningless sexual encounters, yet at the same time look for a relationship. Even though we can often see the hamster wheel of another person’s life, we put ourselves through the same cycle over and over and over again, running into the oblivion of our ravenousness.

    I think it’s that exactly feeling that our smarty pants phones tap into. This need for an instant hit of something outside of ourselves to distract our minds from the pain of our thoughts. For most of us, our brains have a mind of their own, and we are thinking about things we don’t want to think about, yet can’t stop thinking about. So we want, and want, and want some more. We want more love, more sex, more drugs, more success, more entertainment, more food, more sugar, more adoration, more acknowledgement, more appreciation, more money, more security, more freedom, more stuff… and then we want it all over again, just a better version.

    This constant striving may be the catalyst of the vast majority of our emotional suffering, yet it’s also the drive that pushes towards progress – and maybe even our own survival. The curiosity of humans, this ceaseless thirst that we cannot quench, is unique to our kind. Back in pre-history when Neanderthals reached the shores of an ocean do you know they did? They turned the fuck around because there was a goddamn giant scary body of water in front of them, and they couldn’t see the other side. Do you know what Homo sapiens did? They built a raft to float out into the unknown and see what was beyond the horizon. When the Neanderthals reached a mountain range they would camp at the bottom, but Homo sapiens, even the straight ones, would climb to the other side. Neanderthals lacked the seemingly crucial social construction of craving for more, where we Homo sapiens succumbed to it. And who the are the ones that are extinct now!?

    Even though our wanting is part of our demise, it’s also part of our successes as a species. So how do we as individuals have a more reasonable relationship to the seduction of desire? Is there a way to find balance amidst the chaos of greed?

    If there is anything that being a parent has taught me it’s that looking for someone else’s socks can make you suicidal. The other thing I learned is that children have a much greater capacity than adults to deal with disappointment. It may not seem that way at first. If I tell my kid “No you can’t watch Monster High while eating your leftover chemically ridden Valentine’s candy before bed,” she might scream for a moment in protest. This is where depending on my emotional capacity; I may give in just so she shuts the fuck up. But if I stay strong and deal with her momentary rebellion, she will forget about it, and move on. She doesn’t hold it against me. It’s not like The Munch will even bring it up again like, “remember that time you didn’t let me have that 3rd cookie?” No. She never says that shit. She just keeps living her life, not holding onto the past of her unfulfilled desires.

    Wanting shit is not the problem. It’s how we deal with not getting what we want is.

    The reason why kids move through their feelings with greater ease and grace is because they fundamentally think differently than adults. There is more space between their thoughts, because their egos aren’t as developed. The adult mind is dealing with CONSTANT chatter from the ego. Even right now as you read this very post your ego is still talking to you, judging what I say. Yet with kids, their egos aren’t as loquacious, leaving more room in their minds for observation and imagination.

    The more the mind is engaged with observing the world around us, the less energy is spent judging it. The more the brain is bouncing around creative concepts, the less it’s criticizing. So the solution to our all our problems is right in front of us. Think less by training your mind to observe, and through that you will find the wisdom of contentment in where you are in the moment – knowing it’s all a process and you’ll never truly be satisfied anyway.

    I think The Munch has tapped into this angst of mankind, and as such told me this glorious nighttime story.

    Munch: “Once upon a time there was a toilet, and this toilet was very sad. It was a sad toilet because no one was peeing in it, so it couldn’t drink pee, and no one was pooping in it, so it couldn’t eat poop. And that is the story of the sad toilet.”

    Am I raising a genius or what?