HNT: Thinking things, again

As we close out the decade, blady blady blah, here's me naked, and one of the more popular pictures I had.

Sexism

I had a discussion with a female friend recently about sex roles in society. While I am not an expert, nor a woman, I have an opinion that is smart, damnit.

The boundaries imposed upon women for years, some of which still exist, were not fair, I admit. However, many of these constraints were not motivated by subjugation or oppression. Women weren't allowed to vote or run for office because men thought (maybe with good reason) that politics is an ugly business, that a man's vote speaks for his household, and his wife had opportunity to affect that vote. Women were sheltered from military service, high-stress (and admittedly high-profile and high-pay) positions like medicine and law, and working outside the home for similar reasons. Whether women needed to be protected or whether such efforts just demonstrated that men viewed women as inferior isn't really the issue, as far as I am concerned. Adults shield children from many things, and their benevolence is not questioned. I am aware that inequalities in pay still exist between men and women, with some numbers saying women earn $.66 for every $1 earned by a man doing the same job. I don't think it's justifiable, but women will more happily accept a compliment or non-material benefit in lieu of monetary reward.

The disparity I currently notice has more to do with relationships than society. Women traditionally (50+ years ago) were homemakers: expected to raise kids, cook, clean, host, etc. Men were traditionally asked to be the sole bread-winner, to handle physical tasks around the house, to protect the house, to be the leader and final decision maker. I would argue that these perceived sexism roles were not as sexist as those which exist currently. More aptly, many of men's traditional roles have remained, while women have gained the upper-hand.

Many men are better cooks than their partners, clean more than their partners, and have taken on traditional female roles. Many women expect men to also fulfill traditional male roles: lift heavy things, mow the grass, check out nocturnal disturbances, fix the car, hold a job. I am not opposed to cleaning parts of the house, or getting my cook on, but doesn't equality mean that everyone is treated the same? Even more frustrating is that women often want a man who is strong, who makes decisions, who imposes boundaries on her, despite her constant nagging and bitching about wanting a say-so and the like.

The most blatant examples coming to mind involve courtship rituals: dates, chivalry, etc. Men were once expected to walk on the outside of the sidewalk, to sacrifice their coats to a puddle, to stand up when a woman entered the room, to open doors and pull out chairs. The reason we did all of this was because women were dainty, soft beings who needed us to give of ourselves. We as men were pursuers, making an effort to demonstrate our worth and ability to protect. Women didn't complain then, and I have never heard a woman complain when I opened the door for her. The motivation was sexist, but a woman enjoyed the results.

When two people go on dates before they being a relationship, they are attempting to find out about the other person, to get to know them so they can see if a relationship is even possible. Men used to call upon women at their homes, and sit with their families or outside their homes and talk to the girl. The girl's father owned her, and the man could not socially take her from the home without taking her on as his property (which explains the tradition of a man asking a woman's father for permission to marry his daughter, can't take a man's stuff without asking him). Modern work schedules require that people meet during dinner time, so people meet at restaurants, and eat while conversing. This adaptation to demands isn't the problem. What I take issue with is the paying. I have been eating with a female multiple times, and the check came only for her to look at me like, "Go ahead and take care of that". What women don't realize is that when a man pays for her dinner, she is basically putting a monetary value on her time. I don't pay for girls' meals anymore, because when I employ the services of a prostitute, I don't have to put up with her bitchy mouth except for when it's on my body.

"Men should pay, be chivalrous, and because that's what men do, and that's the traditional thing to do to make a woman feel special."

"Women should raise my children, clean my home, and cook my food, because that's what women do for men who are chivalrous and act traditionally. Oh, and because she doesn't get to eat her cake and have it too."

I found this today, just by chance

Tiger and me... The first and exclusive look.

It's been almost three weeks. Three weeks of pressure, phone calls, harassment, and coercion. I don't care what he does to me though, my heart is telling me to get rid of this demon. Tiger Woods and I have been sleeping together ever since his knee injury. In fact, I was responsible for that injury. He messed it up jumping down from a ladder that he had to use to...abuse me with. We liked it rough, rather, he did.

I am sparing all the golf jokes about wood and balls and driving it deep, because I loved him. He was my boss, and my daddy, and he said he was going to leave his wife for me; that he had finally found himself as a gay man; that he was going to use his money to discreetly fund a Constitutional amendment guaranteeing gay marriage rights. He said all the girls who always called him were his hetero girl friends who went shopping and starbucksing with him. I was the "wife" that he talked about on that voicemail.

I'm breaking the story here instead of giving it to TMZ or E! Online, because I still love him, and I don't want to hurt him like all those selfish bitches. He is misunderstood, lonely, and all alone. People only love him for his fame, his image, his fame, what he can do for them. I knew the real Tiger, Eldrick. He was a man of character, who protected my heart from the terror of loneliness.

I love you, E. Come back to me!

Technological Issues

I don't know why my twitter feed on here is not MY twitter feed. On the back end of things, it's all correct. As for why it's at the bottom of the page, along with my archives and blogs I'm following, I don't know what the deal is with that.

If anyone who is still reading this knows how to fix that, help me, PLEASE!!!!

And as a corresponding note, facebook has led me onto girls at my school who are, to put it nonstalkerish, very interesting. Maybe that didn't work, but the point is, I'm interested in talking to them. Particularly one, or two. Both of these girls are friends of friends, and if I had the chance to talk to them, I bet I could woo them. Especially considering their ex bf's look like total doofuses.

Following the line of girls, SG and I had an encounter the other night. She was in the library at the same time as me, and I offered to walk her to her car, since it was midnight and didn't want her to get assaulted (however much she might enjoy or deserve it). Her car was a lot closer than mine, so I made her drive me to my car, since it was really cold outside. While in the car, here's how the conversation went:

SG- "So what are you doing now?"
Me-"Right now?"
SG- "Ya are you going home, what are you doing?"
Me-"Well, I had planned on just going home, and sleeping, because it's midnight on the Tuesday before Thanksgiving."
SG- "So you're just going home to go to sleep? You're not going to stay up?"
Me-"Ummmmmmm, ya. I'm going home"
SG- "I can't believe you're going to sleep right now!!! OMG!!"
Me- "Why are you asking? Is there something that I should be staying up for?"
SG-"What? No! There's nothing."

Another sighting with the craziest woman on earth (maybe second to Kari Ann from Sex Rehab with Dr. Drew). I dropped a pocket knife I keep with me while I was in her car, and I can't get the bitch to get it back to me!

God Almighty help the man she marries.

HNT: Impossible Understanding

My very good friend, possibly my closest friend, and I talk often. She would correct me, and be embarrassed, to hear me say that she is remarkably strong. At 21 years old, she has suffered a large amount of physical abuse, emotional torment, sexual abuse, rape, and assault. She has escaped the poverty and poor decisions that her family was full of and has made an incredible life for herself. This is her first semester going to a remarkably elite school, which she is paying for, in cash, out of her own pocket.

She has helped me through a lot, and has been my confidant regarding my counseling sessions, and I love her. This week, after I left my counseling session, she politely asked how it was, and I told her it was ok: that I was still growing impatient with how slowly it progressed. I asked her how her doctor's appointment was, and she responded:

"Well, I went to get an MRI last week on my wrist, because some sort of lump was there. While I was at the doctors, I gave them a blood sample, as part of just a check-up. The good news is the lump on my wrist came from me breaking it a long time ago and just not realizing it."

(Me)- "That's what I had guessed, bone cancer is something that just doesn't affect people our age very often."

(Her)-"I have to go back Thursday to get a bone marrow biopsy, the doctor said my blood tests show that I have leukemia."

After I pulled my foot out of my mouth, which wasn't hard considering my jaw had dropped, I asked her what kind it was, etc. Fortunately, as she told me, it's one of the least severe kind. As my med school friend put it, "If I were to pick a cancer to have, it would be that type of leukemia." She will have to get chemotherapy, and she will most likely see the cancer go away within a few years.

When I found out, I cried. I cried pretty hard. Not only because of how sorry I was, but how shocked. She is so kind, and sweet, and she doesn't deserve to have this burden upon her. Her particular type of leukemia doesn't require bone marrow transplants, or I would be at the front of the line. I want to do something to honor her, to help her, to show her that people will care, and be there, and love her.

Today she told me she is scared, that she was told that the procedure tomorrow involves sticking a needle into her hip, and pulling out liquid marrow. I expect this does hurt, and have tried to be an optimist, and positive, and tell her that she's done way worse. I have never had anyone close to me suffer from any type of cancer. Everyone I know who has died has done so suddenly and unexpectedly.

Tomorrow, she will have a needle inserted just above her rear end and into her hip. That's why I used this picture.

Take notice of those people around you who inspire you, who make you love, who can make you cry. For the first time in a long time, I cried for someone other than myself. She deserves all the kindness and prayers in the world, and I know she can make it through, but it is really scary for me right now,

I cannot hope to see the world as she does.

HNT: Return to Innocence

EI OH EI OH EI EI OH OH EI OH EI EI OH
A return to innocence!

I love that Enigma song, you know the one in Man of the House featuring Jonathan Taylor Thomas comedying the hell out of Chevy Chase? Farrah Fawcett was a hot mom, god rest her soul.


Since I haven't posted an HNT in a while, and since people only come to my blog to look at my body (I have a tracker you know :P), I decided to go back to my roots, to bring my daily traffic out of the doldrums.

Enjoy, if you're still listening

Digital Locker room

www.thevisualizer.net 

I stumbled across this site a while ago, and have been fascinated by it since.  I think there are a few categories of people here:

1. Monster weiner guys who come to show off and get an ego boost

2. Tiny weiner guys who come to be degraded by themselves, enjoying the shame they already feel in a masochistic way.

3. Guys who are gay/bicurious/a little homo who come to look at other dudes dongs and try to get all frisky inside by comparing

4. People like me, who are probably too curious for their own good as to how they stack up.  

Now, I understand that there are differing opinions on the size of a man's penis, both from men and women.  Overall, the report is that, for the most part, it's not the most important thing in the world.  Where size does seem matter is in girth.  I have also read that size matters in relation to extremes, as neither a micropenis nor a mandingo dick would be enjoyable for a huge majority of women.  It seems as though evolution, or God, or fate, has put men at the correct size overall, with some deviation occurring. 

Research tell us that 50% of all men are under 5.5-6 inches long.   Approximately 2% of all men are 7 inches, with <1%>

Since it seems to be the more important of the two dimensions, thickness should also be examined.  5 inches is just above average, with 6 inches occurring approximately 2-4%, and 7 inches almost never (but that's a coke can, so come on!).  

Thus the most often occurring penis is 5.5-6 inches long x 4.5-5 inches around. The most often occurring vagina, when aroused, 5-6 inches deep x 1.5-2.5 inches wide (4.71-7.85 around). So, most men and women match up well, even though most men are not going to stretch their partners vagina each time they have sex. 

So, if most women are satisfied by their partner's size, and most men do not come close to the magical (in my mind) marks of 8 inch dicks that women take notice of, why do most men, and some women, continue to make it a big deal? 

I am not planning on disclosing my size. (If you're curious, ask me, and we can talk about it, although I would guess most of the people who read this blog are not interested for one reason or another)  However, I will say that I do not lack, and I have used the above site to compare myself to others.

How women view themselves, parallels this issue: most men see their partner much more kindly than she sees herself.  It is an issue of self-image, body appreciation, and understanding. I don't deny that I get fascinated by knowing that I'll never have a penis big enough to make a porn star quiver.  The idea of my inadequacy frightens me, captivates me, holds me to look at dark parts of myself.  I think women (or men) read beauty magazines in a similar way: comparing themselves, seeing where they are better or worse.  

I don't know what causes people to be so down on themselves, why we feel a need to compete and push against others in an effort to demonstrate our own inadequacies.  I know why I do it, but I believe it is vital for us to pick up our eyes when we walk in the shower rooms.  Instead of looking at the body of the bather next to us, hoping to see how we are better or worse, we should just look in the mirror, and move past the darkness that so often binds us to our petty self-loathing.