How You Doin’ Blondie?


I Was Reading “Men’s Health” In The Bathroom Today…
May 17, 2008, 2:25 pm
Filed under: Beauty, Hope, Life, love, Marraige, Men, relationships, sex | Tags: , , , , , , ,

…and I stumbled upon an article written by Hugh O’Neill entitled “The Hottest Sex Tip Ever: Don’t believe what you’ve heard. Your lifetime of great sex starts when you stroll down the aisle.” The article’s main focus was debunking common myths (and fears) that men have about marraige; “Myth 4: She Has To Have It All” is what made this post-worthy (though it could be argued, by citing numerous posts of mine, that I really don’t have very stringent guidelines for what makes it into a post and what doesn’t…but I digress…)

“Many a man balks at pulling the marraige trigger because he appraises a woman the way he’d size up an applaince and then decides she just doesn’t have all the features he’s looking for. Well, here are the answers to those questions tumbling around in your head. Yes, she’s pretty enough. Yes, she’s smart enough. Yes, she’s funny enough. Moreover, all those questions are irrelevant. It’s like asking if a car floats. Most often, your anxieties are less about her then about how others may view your choice of a partner. A woman doesn’t need great beauty or brains or wit to be a fabulous partner and a person very much worth loving throughout your life. Think of it this way: if she’s less then perfect, well, that’s just something else the two of you have in common. Everthing that’s beautiful is cracked, Leonard Cohen wrote, and that’s how the light gets in.”

Even though I think the overall gist of the paragraph was “it’s ok to settle” (which, once you reach a certain point and you’re that just-a-little-to-old-to-be-in-the-club guy, I guess it is), I really liked that Leonard Cohen quote; “Everything that’s beautiful is cracked, that’s how the light gets in.”

Weird, the places hope derive.

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Call Me Reverend Dimmesdale

It makes me slightly ill when I hear about the sexual affairs of married people. The cheating, the excuses, the understandings. It really does make me physically sick. And who am I to react like that? Let he who is without sin cast the first stone, right? Isn’t my current boyfriend married and the father of sweet little toddler? Don’t I rationalize it away by saying to myself, “It’s different, they have an understanding?” Don’t I judge others by their actions but myself by my intentions?

So why does it plunge me into such a state of utter despair to bear witness to the infidelity of others?

Because I still have a little bit of hope, that’s why. As jaded, hateful, and bitter as I am, there’s still a little tiny part of me that believes in the traditional family unit, wants the traditional family unit. There’s a part of me that dreams about finding a nice, decent, hard-working, down-to-earth, blue collar guy who thinks the sun rises and sets on me; of finding a man who sees me as the most beautiful woman in the world, and the woman he wants to mother his future children. There’s a part of me that cries sometimes, lamenting the loss of the sacred union and a love that weathers storms and the put-yourself-first mentality society promotes. There’s also a part that hates myself, really and truly hates myself, for the life I’ve made.

I hate you, husband who “works late”; I hate you, housewife with the “personal trainer”; I hate you, unhappily married man or woman, who thinks your time is better spent fulfilling your own desires then working on repairing and stabilizing the relationship, the commitment you’ve already made; I hate you so much it makes me angry, angry and sick to the point of vomiting.

But I hate myself even more.