Religion, Sex & Politics

Etiquette determines that in polite company one avoid talk of religion, sex and politics.

How one is supposed to have an enlightened and lively conversation without one or more of these topics escapes me. Art, I guess would be one alternative. Sports if you're so inclined. Books if anyone read them.

Forget the etiquette and dig in, I say, because the verboten triumverate always get someone's blood up, which leads to disagreement, which begets a real conversation where people actually defend what they believe. Which is why you should introduce these topics early into your dating.

I had a conversation with a woman friend this weekend, the main point of which was why a four-date dater had dumped her. She claimed it was over his embarrassment at farting in front of her, but that didn't ring true to me. Delving a little deeper, the focus sharpened; they were politically polar opposites. My friend is a socialist, her date a capitalist. Sorry, but that just won't work.

My analogy was this: if you're looking towards building some kind of house together, you need to share construction of the foundation. Two different foundations that aren't linked create two houses. Yes, they might be proximate, but that's friendship or companionship, not a marriage or proxy thereof. Sharing solid - if abstract - understanding of how the universe works, what's right and wrong, and through what prism to view life is critical to creating a stable union.

Exceptions exist, of course. My friend invoked James Carville and Mary Matalin, but I pointed out that

1. this is a very high profile example of precisely one (1) couple, and

2. they are joined more by being part of the media religion than their differences separate them.

In general, I suggest that the easiest path to a happy future is to find someone who shares your meta beliefs - or be prepared to live in a hurricane at least part of the time.



Bottoms Up, True Believers.

Thursday Night is Fantasy Night

Honey, do you have any plans for our next game night?

Hmmm. Not really. Got something in mind?

Well, how about 'door-to-door salesman and lonely housewife'?

What are you selling?

Wouldn't you like to know...


If I were to write an outsider's guide to keeping marriages strong, I'd make scheduling a top priority. Not only the day-to-day household stuff, but setting aside regular chunks of time to nurture the idea of being together and to explore each other a little. Date nights, Finance Nights, Future Nights...making a plan to spend time communicating avoids the drift and misunderstandings of less organized unions.

However, being fidgety and easily bored humans, there's not much value in "Thursday, 8:00 pm to 10:00 pm: Together Time." That'll result in the television being switched on; precisely what you want to avoid. Structure and aim is important. Yes, just like your high-school science experiments, but with more adult content, whether it be planning your savings and investments or dressing up for a date.

I'd include a Game Night in the rotation. You might prefer to call it Role-Play or Sexy Night or something, but the intent is the same - to move away from the...ummm, rut of your regular sex life, and play a little. Fantasy is a good thing, and sharing secrets with your partner is a loving way of getting closer. We mask many secrets in the name of avoiding embarrassment, but if you can't tell your spouse what turns you on in your imagination, who can you tell?

 The wonderful thing about play-acting is that it is acting - you can slip the bonds of your everyday way of thinking and take on a new persona, if only for a while. It's liberating. Especially being with someone you trust, who wants to indulge your more outré likings...because she wants you to indulge hers.

That's what I call win-win.



Bottoms Up, Lonely Housewives.

No Time

Life is full of instances where time is all.

Take dating, for instance. If I were a woman dating a guy, I wouldn't date him for longer than eighteen months. Unless he committed to marry me, that is. Eighteen months is an important period, because it's about the longest a guy can go and not reveal his underlying personality. Addictions, fears, mental illnesses, unpleasant quirks and other relationship killers are extremely difficult to hide when you see that person consistently for that kind of period.

The commitment to marry, by the way, should be his to make, and yours to accept. The fact that he is willing to provide a ring and a date is but a start. When he does that, you then must consider carefully whether you're willing to accept all of his character traits. For the love of yourself and your possible children, say NO if he has anything you think you can correct.

Take note, ladies: you cannot. Once a guy's over twenty, change is only his to make.

Saying NO is oftentimes the best response if the guy falls short in any way from the best idea you have in mind. Making that choice is probably the most important decision any woman can make. Unfortunately, the notion that love will make things better, or that he'll change, or that you will be able to overlook stuff for a lifetime is widespread. And all the more wrong for being popular. My evidence? All the divorces, broken families and non-existent homes, where one parent, usually the father, is absent.

The expression "pushing on a piece of string" comes to mind as I write this. Like most people, I've had to learn all of the lessons about the wrong people the hard way. Without some kind of guide, it's impossible to do otherwise. The biggest take-away I can offer is that it's always better to be alone than with the wrong person, and that new people are always just around the corner...but often out of sight.

Bottoms Up, Tick-Tock.

Health Warning: Serial Dating Sends You Blind

I wonder sometimes what the point of serial dating is. As a stand-alone activity, like, say, attending spin class or taking archery lessons, I'm not sure why it's so popular because, frankly, it's painful. And you never really get anywhere. It's just one fresh body after another.

Serial dating - which I define as successive bouts of fewer than ten dates - gets old really quickly. Meeting and beginning the discovery process sounds and feels like a legal proceeding after a while. All the same stuff has to be asked ie;

+ where do you come from?

+ what do you do for a living?

+ dog person or cat person?

+ spit or swallow (when wine tasting)?

...ad infinitum like some kind of early-round beauty pageant from hell. That's not a bad metaphor as I think of it, because that's what we're doing here, hoping to uncover the one we find most attractive in swimwear, dinner wear, lounge wear and underwear.

Or are we? Are we really looking for someone we want to spend our time adoring and making happy? Or has the thrill of a new possibility every three weeks taken over?

Clearly, some people like the game of dating. They're the serial life re-decorators who enjoy squeezing facts out of the newbie and finding a few that resonate. (For a two week emotional blitz.) This is using people as ornament, an enterprise that probably works short-term, but will leave you with the equivalent of an emotional hangover untreatable in the long term. Sex might be involved, but it's the Cliffs notes of sex, not the awesome component of a great marriage.

I think this is a problem. Dating should be about finding someone for the long-term. Despite my flippancy, I believe that dating as a form of sport isn't good for either men or women. The emotional cost of the meeting/discovery/sex/break-up cycle can be controlled in the short term, but gradually wears you out. And the resulting danger is that when the right person does pop into your life, you might be too jaded to notice, too blind too see.

New is fun, but depth is better.



Bottoms Up, Serious Daters.

That's Not a Killer Whale, Tommy, That's An Orca.

Married male friends enjoy it when I ask:

So, how's life in captivity?

The usual response is some form of personal insult.

Now, I'm not foolish enough to think that married men are unhappy, because the evidence is that they're not. They're wealthier, healthier and likely enjoying a more fulfilling sex life than any singleton. And if they're not benefiting from better and more regular sex, it's their own fault.

My captivity jibe contains just a tiny amount of truth, in that the natural enemy of the single man is his married friend's wife. Wives dislike and discourage single buddies for the same reason men obsess over chickweed in the lawn - exotic species are insidious reminders of the wild kingdom.

The way this tension often resolves is that men gradually give up single buddies. Given the choice between justifying a night out with single men and avoiding explanations to the wife, most will choose the latter. It's a mistake, to the extent that man's mental health is improved by the companionship of other men. The decision to avoid single guys altogether can lead to a decline in all kinds of male friendships; obviously a bad idea.

I think the real trick is to keep the single guys on a restricted venue basis. No titty bars, no big boozy nights, no questionable fellow travelers - and that's up to married guy enforcement. I'd suggest that finding a way to graft a prior single life onto married life before you actually get married is worthy of serious thought. Otherwise you'll find yourself feeling as if you're an exhibit at Seaworld, pretending to enjoy living in a bathtub eating frozen mackerel.



Bottoms Up, Seaworld Dwellers.

Sex After Marriage

One big - BIG! - advantage of marriage is the prospect of regular uninhibited sex with someone you know and adore. It's gotta be high on the list of reasons to get and stay hitched, right?

Well, I guess that's true of some couples, but I have a nagging suspicion that the tide of everyday trivia creeps up on lots of married folks. That initial joyous, lusty bonking gradually gets pushed out of the car and the laundry, back to the bedroom and eventually into the clothes hamper. How depressing. It must take a concerted effort to a) recognize the diminished state of such a sex life, and b) turn it around.

Part of the beauty of being committed to someone - sexually, and every other way - is the trust. I often wonder just how much married folks trust their partner with every innermost thought, especially their sexy fantasies and every other kind of erotic mind curiosity. No doubt there's editing of the stuff you think might turn him or her off, but that hopefully gives way to full and ardent disclosure. Again, I'm pretty certain that doesn't happen.

Wouldn't it be great if the marriage vows included an agreement to thoroughly explore each others' sexuality? It would be stated right up front, in the same breathe as honoring, cherishing and til death us do part, and so become part of the public announcement of the union. If someone does this at their wedding, I'd love to know the reaction.

I'm serious. I think a permanent part of marriage should be the conscious working towards the edges of you and your spouse's sex landscape, like Captain Cook sailing around the world to discover Australia. He didn't know exactly what was there, but had an inkling...and it wasn't like anything he'd seen before. Just as couples have date night and finance night and family night, they should (IMO) have a sex exploration night.

Think of it as drawing a deep map of your psyche you can use forever more for your pleasure.

We're all different, and there's no way to be taught any of this; we just have to go experience it. My point is that by bringing thoughts, likes, dislikes, desires and fears out into the light, you'll gain valuable understanding of yourself and the person in this world closest to you.

That's gotta be worth a shot.



 

Bottoms Up, Carnal Explorers.

Friday Fluffer - True Love

In an antidote to the brutal, here's a very sweet article about true love.

Sometimes, in the glare of relationship horror, it's nice to know what we're aiming for.

From the Houston Chronicle.

Safe (and recommended) for work.





Bottoms Up, Harmonizers.

My Oh My

Sometime after discovering that one's penis is an instrument of pleasure, we men find that women think so too. Most women, that is, and a lot of them wouldn't go on national tellie saying so, but it's true nonetheless.

This is a milestone in man's life, this coming to grips with the fact that the odd assortment of appendages between our legs has appeal to others. It's like finding that the lame-o rock collection you started at age nine has a purring, soft, sweet-smelling audience of top-flight geologists who can't wait to examine your granite. Purring top-flight geologists in mini-skirts and librarian-glasses.

It can blow your mind, that shit.

Which, for the most part, it does. We spend all our lives henceforth trying to replicate that moment.

It's a quest not entirely without reward, either. That teenaged naïveté never completely disappears. At the special moment, when it's clear she wants to have sex with MY penis, there's magic in the air. It's a warping of space-time, a kind of star-gate to a better universe. We don't pretend to understand the mechanics of this. Nor do we care, for it's a fleeting thing, and by that point other stuff's happening.

Stuff like ripping off my hot geologist's blouse. 

Importantly, this fragment of (good) dislocation happens with wives and long-term girlfriends as much as with that new lady in your life. In fact, it's more pronounced, because of the contrast between that sweet person you like to make coffee for in the morning and the sex-devil she becomes. At one point of the evening you're balancing your checking account, then BOOM she's got her hand down your trousers with intent in her eye.

This is not the same person.........and yet it is the same person. Ah, the wonder of women.


Bottoms Up, Hot Geologists.

Underbody Rustproofing and Free Floor Mats

In the car game, they call it The Grind.

You sit in the salesperson's office while she pretends to cut you a deal. She - please call me Dee - makes you think that the dealership is about to give you the car by way of a special low price. The sales manager must be consulted. News returns that you've been blessed by the boss's largesse. Sadly, the company is making only making twenty-five dollars on the deal, but that's your good luck. Dee wants you to know she's struggling to make this month's quota, so a sale is a sale.

Now, let's talk about those extras. We recommend the underbody rustproofing and special paint protection. Buy those and Dee will throw in some floor mats.

Dating is the same. You fancy a particular girl who makes you feel right. She might be somewhat out of your league. You have prospects, a decent personality and no priors, plus you want kids. (Never underestimate this thesedays.) You make your play; a bid for her affections, with a view to marriage. She will get back to you.

We're all familiar with this dance. The difference between The Grind and dating is that women used to consult with their mother and/or father about your long-term suitability. I'm not so sure this happens any more. My feeling is that ladies will ask girlfriends or siblings or Miss Cleo. Or they'll say "screw that" and decide for themselves, taking charge of their own car dealership. 



Bottoms Up, Grinders. 

Getting to Yes

 Cavemen are unfairly maligned. For all we know our pre-historic brothers were deft and sensitive sex partners, their women loved, respected and thoroughly satisfied. Without smartphones, online gaming and recreational drugs, Caveman Colin probably paid more attention to Cavegirl Caitlin than we imagine. Let's face it, sex is about the most fun activity to be had when you and the g/f have no money, no place to go and three days to spare.

Of course our cartoonish view of Colin and Caitlin is that he forced himself upon her, with club in hand and ill intent in mind. Rape, in other words. It's our own arrogance that concocts this stuff because there is no evidence either way. That's why we call it pre-history. I'm positing a different slant, that's all.

However, it does raise a point. The aim of all men interested in sex is more-or-less one thing, and it's not the sex itself - assent is what we look for. Getting to "Yes!" - exclamation point and all - is the universal and lifelong challenge that pretty much all men have in common. Once a woman gives the all clear, the sex will take care of itself. Starting the Sex Snowball (R) rolling is actually our goal, even if recognizing this truth occurs not to the average bloke.

Again, we're kinda blinded by modern media stereotypes (drink advertisements, pharmaceutical salesmen, bloggers) into assessing womanhood by sexuality, rather than her availability...to us, the individual. Pursuit of someone whose interest is marginal can be decent sport, but is mostly frustrating. Much better to be clear about exactly what you're trying to do, and indeed whether the odds are on your side. First, agreement; then sex. That's the way it works.

Note here that when she says "Yes", or "I thought you'd never ask", or "Just DO ME" it's a time-limited permission slip. Each session of sex requires a fresh accord, even in the most heated sexual relationship.  In marriage, too, we must always ensure our lady is on board with giving herself to the sexual muse. Conjugal rights are only an acknowledgment that a standing request is part of the relationship, they're not an Unconditional Surrender.




Bottoms Up, Quest for Yes Compatriots.

Dating a Boson

Like everyone else, everything changed for me when I read that a bunch of smarties with a few billion dollars worth of kit discovered that the Higgs boson exists. Announced on the otherwise auspicious date of July 4, confirmation that such an animal lives outside mathematical equations is like the dawning of a new era.  

So it was with some disappointment in the following days that I observed little or no difference in the world outside the Large Hadron Collider ie: where you and I live. Drivers on the freeway behaved, as ever, like teenaged children on crack; mainstream media treated us, still, as teenaged children on Xanax; peace and understanding, yet again, failed to break out all over. Men and women sorta did, and sorta didn't, get each other. Everything changed, and it all actually remained the same.

But let's not despair at this, all is not lost. The good news is that TomKat are (is?) divorcing, so there's one more child out of danger, and Suri will be okay too. There is good evidence - from Tom's three exes - that women turning thirty who have children start to see life with more clarity. The gooey love-sauce fame-and-looks obsession of their twenties gives way to the reality of doing the right thing by the children, which in this case amounts to rescuing them from a cult. 

It seems about right to me that no-one should be allowed to marry until their thirtieth birthday. Better still would be if we were helped to understand why not, and chose not to of our own volition. Too many high-school sweethearts marry at twenty-two and find themselves divorced a few years later. How can the children of these unions overcome this model of parenthood?

In that light, I advocate the twenties as the Dating Decade - the more, the better. No marriage, just ten years of figuring out yourself and how you fit with others. It's possible this might have more impact than applied particle physics, as much as atom smashing underground in Switzerland might give you a hard-on.


Bottoms Up, Physicists.

Would You Let Your Sister Date Donald Trump?

Muriel Baumeister.

Passing West Palm Beach airport during the week, I spied The Trumpster's Boeing 757 sitting proud amongst all the other fancy-pants jets. Trump is there quite often, given that he owns Mar-A-Lago, an historic pile on frou-frou Palm Beach.

Trump's famous not only for his property empire, but also for regularly renovating his love-life. His pathology is to consistently upgrade wives when their time is up. It's a rich-guy thing, I guess. Why stick with someone when there's a mezzanine floor full of willing totty a few floors down the private elevator from one's penthouse?

Giving in to the temptation of a perkier model doesn't make Trump a bad man. But it doesn't make him a good one, either. This is what used to be known - quaintly - as "the character question". A man's character doesn't interest modern culture that much any more. Bulk media prefer narcissism and self-expression to doing the right thing and selflessness. Unfortunately, where television dwells, so go the people. Mostly, anyway.

I don't have a sister, but if I did, I'd want her dating and marrying men of character. I'd hope she'd want to, too.

Bottoms Up, Gulfstream Owners.

The Dating Horizon - Wombatgram #24

The triumph of imagination over reality leads to all sorts of dissatisfaction and grumpiness. Best to figure out what's likely, what's possible, and what that one-night stand will actually lead to.

For greater clarity, click on Wombatgram. 


Previous efforts. 



Bottoms Up, Simplificators.

The Marriage Spider: Wombatgram #21

Try as you might, there's no killing the Marriage Spider.

Click on Wombatgram for all the hairy details.

How to choose your wedding limousine service.




Bottoms  Up, Arachnophobes.


For all previous Wombatgrams, try the Wombatgram home page, above. 

But Then Again, Too Few to Mention

Maria Grazia Cucinotta pic. 

Choosing the right partner.

I don't know, if there is some secret to making this happen, it's surely not in my possession. The answer is tantalizingly close, like she's so almost there...but she's not.

Or is she?

I am unmarried because I have yet to meet the right person. Well, maybe I've met her, but all the folderol surrounding dating is a barrier. Some people are ready, some people are not, and so the world turns.

Maturity matters. Some people I know married early in life, but they had it together enough to make it work. On the other hand, there are perpetually lagging souls who only present as decent prospects after a few years in oak barrels. Everyone's mileage varies.

If there is magic to be learned, maybe it is just that - that we're all different, and you knowing when you're ready for decanting is paramount.



Bottoms Up, Vignerons.

BTW, here's how to choose a wedding day limousine.

What's Your Number?

Anna Faris pic credit.

Dating movies never cut it with me. Except that THIS one looks more like it.

The premise comes straight from the single thirty-something woman's field of screams - that having more than twenty past lovers makes you statistically unmarriage-able. Or more accurately, unable to find the love of one's life.

Sounds like bollox to me.

Then again, it might be the best date-night movie in a long time.





And the big Hollywood promo looks pretty funny too.





Bottoms Up, Lookers and Doubters.

The Long and Short of Strap-On Dildos

I'm in two minds about fishing. On the one hand there is the grouper sandwich and macadamia encrusted mahi-mahi. Mmmmm....mahi-mahi. On the other hand there are hooks and nets.



How is the salmon served again?



Fishermen are divided into two species - recreational anglers, that is. There are live-bait fishermen and artificial-bait fishermen. It's not a trivial difference. These are Old Testament/New Testament kind of arguments, unsolved by beer or beer-battered catfish. But let us not tarry. My fishy musings aren't for nothing, dear friends. There are sex aids afoot and what wonders lie before us!



Behold, the strap-on dildo. This piece of priapic pulchritude fills a gap - so to speak - when a penis is missing. One imagines that most owners are lesbians, but no doubt there's a big market for women who want to show their menfolk what it's like to have six or more inches of extruded polymer shoved up their butt.



Which isn't where I'd like to focus. What's interesting to me is that Mr P is always invited to the party, whether the participants like penis or not. Lesbians, are, presumably, those most likely to purchase a strap-on...which must pain them no end. Interesting that those with only sapphic attractions still like an ersatz bloke about the place; one held in place with buckles and straps.



Let's review: When a dick's not to hand, there are always artificial dicks, even if you don't like dick or the person to whom he's attached. Bravo, marital aid industry and UPS. You've done us proud. Even those of us who use live bait.









Bottoms Up, Naturists.

Getting To Know You

Photo credit.

How long does it take to know another person? If you're dating with a view to marriage, the magic time appears to be around the eighteen month mark. If accurate (or even close) that leads to a few unavoidable truths.

-> If you have been dating someone for longer than two years, and marriage isn't explicitly on the horizon, it probably won't happen.

-> After dating for longer than two years, if the question of marriage appears obliquely or indirectly, you probably shouldn't marry that person.

-> Excessively speedy marriages ie: those within six months of meeting, are likely to founder because you really don't know the other person.

-> When you're dating and learning about your possible long-term partner, often the only way to smoke out problems is to ask pointed questions eg:

~ do you or any of your family have a history of depression or other mental problems?

~ do you have any addictive traits, for instance alcohol, drugs or gambling?

~ do you want children or not, and how many if so?

~ do you think you can change me (other than perhaps my wardrobe)?

~ will you need me to be with you all the time, or will I have some independence?


Too often we float along in a cloud of denial, thinking that when the time comes, it'll all work out.

No it won't.

Life will throw sufficient variables at you - deliberately taking on stuff that doesn't jive with your own life-story is asking for heartache multipliers beyond that which will test any relationship.

Better to face the difficult questions, then say NO, even if your dreamboat appears to be the One. Leave the fog of fantasy and get tough. Relationships don't survive pussies.





Bottoms Up, Tough Guys.

Goo-mah

My friend George has a goom. Perhaps I should capitalize that: my friend George has a Goom.

I know this because she arrived during our second drink this evening, a delightful woman of engaging conversation and charming manners.

Men have taken mistresses since they were first able to sneak away and inveigle themselves up the skirts of other women. No surprise there. But a certain kind of man takes a mistress - or two - and I'm wondering why.

For George, I'm pretty sure it's because of his distant marriage. That's no excuse, of course, but he'd be on the lookout for interested women no matter his marital status. Somewhere in his DNA lies the predisposition to move beyond social norms. Look, and take.

Just as there are certain men who take a long-term mistress, so there are women who oblige. In George's case, it's a long-term sexual liaison with no expectation of anything more. They're both satisfied with furtive social meetings, like tonight, and equally hidden sexual congress.

Under the Wombat Rule that no-one does anything for nothing, it's clear that they're both getting something from all this. And not for the short term, either.





Bottoms Up, Tony Soprano.

Wills and Kate

Picture credit.

Wombatgram of the Royal Life-Cycle.


My tribute to the future King and Queen of Australia. And some other places too.



Edit: The most insightful piece yet - brilliant.

Bottoms Up, Imperialists!