Never date a man who can’t outsmart you.
Overpowering you is what a man does when he’s run out of ideas.
An assortment of ramblings; some thoughtful, some thoughtless
Never date a man who can’t outsmart you.
Overpowering you is what a man does when he’s run out of ideas.
I miss message boards. I miss long, thoughtful, public conversations where people get emotionally naked and invite examination. I miss an online culture that demands everyone act like adults around the naked people.
Oh well. I miss grunge, too, but that shit ain’t comin’ back either.
I’ve got family medical emergency stuff going on, so that’s why I’m even more scarce than usual.
Also, just a periodic reminder: alcohol can slowly kill you in really ugly, unromantic ways, untreated mental health issues will only exacerbate your physical ailments, and you really don’t want to be figuring that kind of shit out in your forties. Start now.
The problem with being the perfect man for your time is that your time can end long before you do. At 91, Hef was past perfect.
But for the twenty years of his prime, he filled a lustful, thoughtful, man-shaped hole in the American tapestry. He edited more than a magazine; he edited the national image of manhood, exposing his audience to the literature, art, and ideas that intrigued him, as well as the big titties that got him hard. Without firing a shot or winning a contest, he pushed a generation of men to be more interesting versions of themselves; that he didn’t really succeed is less an indictment of his vision than the nature of the generation he sought to inspire.
I missed Hugh Hefner before he was gone. His death simply means that I get to miss him out loud.
I like making pretty girls cry, and crying girls laugh. Emotional vulnerability brings out a perverted OCD in me; you’re like a sad little lamp, and I feel compelled to keep flipping your switch.
My mind likes that way you giggle, that you get my jokes, that you accept my failings, and that you’re *just* slightly clever.
My heart likes that way you hold your face when you’re asleep, that feeling when I know you’re safe, that change in the air when you’re around, and that time you said that thing.
But my dick? My dick likes that you sit still and do what you’re told while I throw everything else away.
You don’t feel alive unless someone is using you.
I want to raise you from the dead and make you immortal.
The night deepens as she walks.
The street empties. Shop lights fade.
Heels on concrete the only sound.
Click and scrape with each footfall.
A faun with a lion’s mien.
A girl in a woman’s shape.
Lost her way, lost in shadow.
Lost her will. (Never had it.)
Her lighter sparks. She drags deep.
The cherry blooms, the smoke slithers.
This is how her world ends.
Lights behind her burst to life.
Her eyes widen, naught else moves.
Startled and frozen, lazy man’s prey.
An engine growls and tires squeal.
Her hair whips in the breeze.
Doors fly open, hands seize her.
(The hands all have men attached.)
They don’t speak, but they demand.
The lion roars. The faun breaks.
The cigarette falls to the pavement.
Her only trace, a dying ember.
Porn featuring violence against women is also extremely popular among women. It is far more popular among women than men. I hate saying that because misogynists seem to love this fact. Fantasy life isn’t always politically correct.
The rate at which women watch violent porn is roughly the same in every part of the world. It isn’t correlated with how women are treated.
Seth Stephens-Davidowitz
…talking about his book, where he mines Google searches for data about the hidden truths of modern life.
For the record, I can’t say I love that fact, but I’m not even slightly surprised by it.
I mean, that’s kinda why I’m here.
When Sally came to stay They said “Boy, she’s gonna leave” They knew I’d been in sway You see, to girls who oft deceive But that’s not an option For sweet Miss Sally and me I’ve a few precautions Should her heart get a mind to flee Cords will bind her ankles A frown will adorn her lips Her hair all in tangles As bruises decorate her hips If ever she should dream Of a life beyond my sight I’ll show her what I mean About a love that’s worth the fight