Monday, February 22, 2010

...The guys that we find instantly attractive are often the worst possible choice for a girl who wants to move away from a life fraught with anxiety, drama, and pain. It's entirely possible that your picker is off, and that alone is the root of your problems." Amen, sister. My picker is WAY off...

Found this on the internet. Love it...
This is my tribute to the nice girls. To the nice girls who are overlooked, who become friends and nothing more, who spend hours fixating upon their looks and their personalities and their actions because it must be they that are doing something wrong. This is for the girls who don't give it up on the first date, who don't want to play mind games, who provide a comforting hug and a supportive audience for a story they've heard a thousand times. This is for the girls who understand that they aren't perfect and that the guys they're interested in aren't either, for the girls who flirt and laugh and worry and obsess over the slightest glance, whisper, touch, because somehow they are able to keep alive that hope that maybe... maybe this time he'll have understood. This is an homage to the girls who laugh loud and often, who are comfortable in skirts and sweats and combat boots, who care more than they should for guys who don't deserve their attention. This is for those girls who have been in the trenches, who have watched other girls time and time again fake up and make up and fuck up the guys in their lives without saying a word. This is for the girls who have been there from the beginning and have heard the trite words of advice, from "there are plenty of fish in the sea," to "time heals all wounds." This is to honor those girls who know that guys are just as scared as they are, who know that they deserve better, who are seeking to find it.

This is for the girls who have never been in love, but know that it's an experience that they don't want to miss out on. For the girls who have sought a night with friends and been greeted by a night of catcalling, rude comments and explicit invitations that they'd rather not have experienced. This is for the girls who have spent their weekends sitting on the sidelines of a beer pong tournament or a case race, or playing Florence Nightingale for a vomiting guy friend or a comatose crush, who have received a drunk phone call just before dawn from someone who doesn't care enough to invite them over but is still willing to pass out in their bed. This is for the girls who have left sad song lyrics in their away messages, who have tried to make someone understand through a subliminally appealing profile, who have time and time again dropped their male friend hint after hint after hint only to watch him chase after the first blonde girl in a skirt. This is for the girls who have been told that they're too good or too smart or too pretty, who have been given compliments as a way of breaking off a relationship, who have ever been told they are only wanted as a friend.

This one's for the girls who you can take home to mom, but won't because it's easier to sleep with a whore than foster a relationship; this is for the girls who have been led on by words and kisses and touches, all of which were either only true for the moment, or never real to begin with. This is for the girls who have allowed a guy into their head and heart and bed, only to discover that he's just not ready, he's just not over her, he's just not looking to be tied down; this is for the girls who believe the excuses because it's easier to believe that it's not that they don't want you, it's that they don't want anyone. This is for the girls who have had their hearts broken and their hopes dashed by someone too cavalier to have cared in the first place; this is for the nights spent dissecting every word and syllable and inflection in his speech, for the nights when you've returned home alone, for the nights when you've seen from across the room him leaning a little too close, or standing a little too near, or talking a little too softly for the girl he's with to be a random hookup. This is for the girls who have endured party after party in his presence, finally having realized that it wasn't that he didn't want a relationship: it was that he didn't want you. I honor you for the night his dog died or his grandmother died or his little brother crashed his car and you held him, thinking that if you only comforted him just right, or said the right words, or rubbed his back in the right way then perhaps he'd realize what it was that he already had. This is for the night you realized that it would never happen, and the sunrise you saw the next morning after failing to sleep.

This is for the "I really like you, so let's still be friends" comment after you read more into a situation than he ever intended; this is for never realizing that when you choose friends, you seldom choose those which make you cry yourself to sleep. This is for the hugs you've received from your female friends, for the nights they've reassured you that you are beautiful and intelligent and amazing and loyal and truly worthy of a great guy; this is for the despair you all felt as you sat in the aftermath of your tears, knowing that that night the only companionship you'd have was with a pillow and your teddy bear. This is for the girls who have been used and abused, who have endured what he was giving because at least he was giving something; this is for the stupidity of the nights we've believed that something was better than nothing, though his something was nothing we'd have ever wanted. This is for the girls who have been satisified with too little and who have learned never to expect anything more: for the girls who don't think that they deserve more, because they've been conditioned for so long to accept the scraps thrown to them by guys.

This is what I don't understand. Men sit and question and whine that girls are only attracted to the mean guys, the guys who berate them and belittle them and don't appreciate them and don't want them; who use them for sex and think of little else than where their next conquest will be made. Men complain that they never meet nice girls, girls who are genuinely interested and compelling, who are intelligent and sweet and smart and beautiful; men despair that no good women want to share in their lives, that girls play mindgames, that girls love to keep them hanging. Yet, men, I ask you: were you to meet one of these genuinely interested, thrillingly compelling, interesting and intelligent and sweet and beautiful and smart girls, were you to give her your number and wait for her to call... and if you were to receive a call from her the next day and she, in her truthful, loyal, intelligent and straightforward nice girl fashion, were to tell you that she finds you intriguing and attractive and interesting and worth her time and perhaps material from which she could fashion a boyfriend, would you or would you not immediately call your friends to tell them of the "stalker chick" you'd met the night prior, who called you and wore her heart on her sleeve and told the truth? And would you, or would you not, refuse to make plans with her, speak with her, see her again, and once again return to the bar or club or party scene and search once more for this "nice girl" who you just cannot seem to find? Because therein lies the truth, guys: we nice girls are everywhere. But you're not looking for a nice girl. You're not looking for someone genuinely interested in your intermural basketball game, or your anatomy midterm grade, or that argument you keep having with your father; you're looking for a quick fix, a night when you can pretend to have a connection with another human being which is just as disposable as the condom you were using during it.

So don't say you're on the lookout for nice girls, guys, when you pass us up on every step you take. Sometimes we go undercover; sometimes we go in disguise: sometimes when that girl in the low cut shirt or the too tight miniskirt won't answer your catcalls, sometimes you're looking at a nice girl in whore's clothing - - we might say we like the attention, we might blush and giggle and turn back to our friends, but we're all thinking the same thing: "This isn't me. Tomorrow morning, I'll be wearing a teeshirt and flannel shorts, I'll have slept alone and I'll be making my hungover best friend breakfast. See through the disguise. See me." You never do. Why? Because you only see the exterior, you only see the slutty girl who welcomes those advances. You don't want the nice girl.. so don't say you're looking for a relationship: relationships take time and energy and intent, three things we're willing to extend - - but in return, we're looking for compassion and loyalty and trust, three things you never seem willing to express. Maybe nice guys finish last, but in the race they're running they're chasing after the whores and the sluts and the easy-targets... the nice girls are waiting at the finish line with water and towels and a congradulatory hug (and yes, if she's a nice girl and she likes you, the sweatiness probably won't matter), hoping against hope that maybe you'll realize that they're the ones that you want at the end of that silly race.

So maybe it won't last forever. Maybe some of those guys in that race will turn in their running shoes and make their way to the concession stand where we're waiting; however, until that happens, we still have each other, that silly race to watch, and all the chocolate we can eat (because what's a concession stand at a race without some chocolate?)

Thursday, February 4, 2010

Why Women Sleep With Men


He bought dinner. I was bored. He'll do the chores. The unromantic truth about why women sleep with men
By Flic EverettLast updated at 7:44 AM on 09th September 2009

Not long ago, I was talking to a single friend about her recent conquest.
'To be honest, I only slept with him out of politeness,' she admitted. I was not surprised - as women's labyrinthine reasons for having sex go, that's pretty basic, stock-in-trade stuff.
Perhaps men will find that a little shocking, depressing even. But they shouldn't. Indeed, they wouldn't if we hadn't all been fed a Utopian myth that men and women have sex purely because they're crazed with lust for each other - or, in a long-term partnership, because they still adore each other.

'Yawn...Still, at least this means he'll take the bins out!'
Any woman past the age of 16 knows what idealistic nonsense this is - and finally, there's research to prove it. As the Mail reported yesterday, in a new book, Why Women Have Sex, 1,000 women were interviewed about their real reasons for saying 'Yes' when they could have said 'No'. Boredom, winning favours and to get rid of a headache were high up the list.
These results suggest that comparing the intricate physiological and emotional strata of the female sex drive with the blunt male urge to 'Just do it' is like comparing a tin opener with the Large Hadron Collider.
For most women, passionate desire languishes in the lower reaches of the list, somewhere below 'to get presents from him,' 'to shut him up' and even 'for fun'.
(It's striking that there's no mention of 'Because I was drunk', yet millions of men would testify to the fact that their chances sky rocket when a woman has had a few glasses of wine.)
Given a choice, girls prefer tall men with symmetrical features and deep voices - which suggests the female sex drive is, above all, evolutionary, because they believe such men will provide them with healthy children.
But once we've realised he's lacking in other areas or the passion has ebbed away, the reasons to have sex become far more mundane, or even acquisitive, such as 'So he'll take the rubbish out' or 'Because he took me for a meal'. The key finding of the book is that men are, on some level, physically attracted to most women, yet women are left sexually cold by most men.
In this light, feminism's eagerness to persuade women to have sex only when we experience knee-trembling desire seems naive. Endless books and articles have been written extolling our right to enjoy earth-shaking orgasms amid a whirring Rolodex of thrilling positions.

Taboo: Women are still swapping sex for perks and lying back for the sake of a quiet life
But they overlook the elephant in the room - long-term, a woman's sex drive is rarely equal to a man's.
On the whole, we are not instantly aroused by a glimpse of Calvin Klein waistband. We seldom engage in heated fantasies over semi-naked strangers. Pornographic magazines for women have invariably failed, because we don't respond visually or instantly to crass sexual stimuli.
Instead, female sexual response is as intricate as a weaver bird's nest - a complex interlacing of disparate feelings, needs and promises.
Initial physical attraction may be driven by simple hormones - but later in a relationship, the primary sexual mover for many women is a desire for emotional connection.
The old chestnut that men use love to get sex and women use sex to get love has some truth: men feel validated by sexual connection; women crave understanding and closeness.

They could spend hours exploring their own most complex feelings and their partner's deepest fears and joys - and watch him quake under the onslaught. Or they can engage with him physically and reap the emotional benefits of post-coital intimacy.
The book claims 84 pc of women have sex simply to keep their partners quiet or to get help with the chores.
You may feel shocked at the hint of prostitution - the bartering of our bodies for a bit of DIY - but within a committed relationship is it truly so different from any other trade- off which ultimately nets both participants what they want?
Women have always been practical when it comes to ensuring their comfort and security - and sex is an immensely valuable commodity.

Hidden agenda: 84 pc of women interviewed have sex simply to keep their partners quiet or to get help with the chores
Some women admitted having sex 'for presents' - but I suspect that the reasons behind that bald claim are more complicated. Many women who suffer low self-esteem, or have been damaged by male rejection or even abuse, feel validated only when they're admired.
Being given gifts in return for sexual favours isn't necessarily the hardnosed horse-trading it appears, given that plenty of the women surveyed also admitted to having sex 'so that men will like them'.
Often, women who grew up fatherless or who have had chequered relationships with men find they have no blueprint for relating to men any way other than sexually.
The authors also found that women have sex in a bid to 'win' - to poach a man from another women or to secure his long-term commitment.
Then there's 'jealousy' sex, which involves having sex with someone else to re-ignite a partner's interest. Callous, yes, but most of us are not above a certain amount of low-down scheming when it comes to sex.
Less shameful triggers for liaisons include the desire for peace and quiet, to cure a headache, even just to see how sex with someone new feels - and when you come to reasons like that, it's clear that we are a long way from champagne and flowers.
So, should we really be shocked by these findings? Some people will find them refreshingly honest, others depressing. They will bemoan the fact that 40 years after Cosmopolitan explained we were supposed to have orgasms, too, women are still swapping sex for household chores and lying back for the sake of a quiet life.
The truth is that we are all victims of our biology - the human race can prosper without women's orgasms, or even any enjoyment of sex, so we have to find other reasons to make love.
Whether it's for a new carpet, out of politeness, in the search for emotional intimacy, admiration or simply because we feel like it, the end result is the same.
SO WHAT DOES MAKE US SAY YES? SIX WOMEN SHAMELESSLY REVEAL ALL
VIRGINIA IRONSIDE
I've had sex for loads of reasons, love and romance often being the motivating force.
But I do remember once being taken out to dinner by a man who inveigled me back to his flat and suggested we had sex.
I didn't fancy him, and it hadn't occurred to me to have sex with him, but he then delivered the extraordinary line: 'Oh, come on. It'll take only a couple of minutes.'
I was so astonished at this, and felt it was such a reasonable request, that I complied. And, true to his word, two minutes later it was all over!
MARCELLE D'ARGY SMITH
He arrived from Australia to stay for a couple of nights. A hugely successful, driven man who'd recently had a stroke. Yes, he was lean and attractive, but we were old friends.
I'd promised him: 'Own room, own shower, own cat.' He said he'd do without the cat.
He arrived on Saturday. We had dinner with friends. Sunday morning, as I was making him coffee in my nightdress, he suddenly kissed my back. Normally, I'd have said 'Get off' and laughed him away.
But it was a tender kiss. And I had heard that men who have had strokes and cancer lose their sexual confidence. What would it cost me to make him feel better? He was staying for only two nights. It was rather like a mercy mission. 'Go back to bed and I'll join you,' I said.
The Sunday morning sex was melting and wonderful. We stared at each other in amazement. It was the start of a poignant love affair. And it might never have happened.

Liz Jones: 'I locked my fingers in his, to stop him strumming, and dragged him upstairs - just to shut him up'


EDWINA CURRIE
I once had sex with a former Olympic athlete, just to find out what he could do that other men couldn't.
He had an almost perfect body: tall, broad-shouldered, superb thighs, a noble head. Fifty press-ups every morning kept his abdomen washboard-flat. When I whispered that he resembled Michelangelo's statue of David, he smiled: 'Yes, I've been told that before.'
The relationship waned when I noticed that rather than gazing deeply into my eyes, he was admiring his physique in the mirror. That's how I learned that an athlete's biggest attribute is his ego.
IRMA KURTZ
I was in my early 20s and was in Paris, trying to become a bohemian expatriate. I was recovering from a relationship with a Parisian.
French does not rub off in bed; I could not yet speak his language, but it had become painfully evident he had nothing to say that a besotted girl wanted to hear. Weepy and full of confusion, I ran into a tourist from New York. We had a glass of beer, a long chat and ended up in his hotel room, laughing and loving and singing old Broadway songs.
The next day we parted friends. And I learned that having sex with someone who speaks your language can ease the pangs of homesickness.
WENDY LEIGH
My second husband, a tall, dark, extremely butch American with a gravelly voice and an unbridled appetite for food and sex, had a tendency to erupt in a rage when he was deprived of either. I have to confess that most of the time I was equally voracious, but about sex and not food.
But when I was in the throes of researching a book, I was utterly consumed in my work and forgot all about sex and food. When my husband, starved of both, erupted in a rage, I had the choice of having sex with him or cooking a threecourse Sunday lunch.
So I gave him sex, rather like you give a baby a dummy, to pacify him. It worked every time.
LIZ JONES
I once dated a beautiful man: he was a musician, had amazing skin, long fingers and spoke fluent French. He was incredibly intense and serious.
One night he came to my house for dinner. After our meal, he sat on the floor with his guitar and started to sing to me in French.
It was all far too romantic. I didn't know where to look: gazing into his eyes was too embarrassing, so I just looked out of the window.
When he got to the third verse, I thought: 'I can't stand any more of this.' So I locked my fingers in his, to stop him strumming, and dragged him upstairs - just to shut him up.
P.S. - AND HERE'S WHY MEN HAVE SEX
Reading the list of reasons why women sleep with men, I couldn't help but wonder: don't they ever do it because they like us? Does desire mean anything to them? Because it certainly does to men.
In our youth, desire can be indiscriminate. A young man's relationship with his sex drive is like a dog-walker's with an ill-disciplined dog: he's led from pillar to post without hope of discipline or control. Some men, no matter how old they are, will never stop chasing women for sex. But for most of us it's different. We've realised that girls, instead of being the pointless, silly creatures we took them for, are the most amazing, fascinating, desirable creatures on the planet.

Sex and the City age: Men fear that every act of love will be analysed over cocktails like a Premiership game on Match Of The Day
They can make your heart soar with a glance and crush your spirit with a sneer. Women don't have to do anything to hold men in their power. Just existing is enough. Why else would men have written countless poems and love songs; why else would they have painted them, sculpted them, gone to war for them?
It's men, not women, who are the true romantics. We want sex because it feels great, reinforces our selfworth and, for us, physical intimacy is the proof and expression of emotional intimacy: to be denied sex is to be cast out.
This makes sex as frightening as it is intoxicating. We hate to admit it, but we are dependent on women and worry about our ability to satisfy them.
In this Sex And The City age, we fear that every act of love will be analysed over cocktails like a Premiership game on Match Of The Day. Over time, lust and capacity fade. So sometimes we have sex just to prove we can. But most of all, ladies, we want sex because we love you.
DAVID THOMAS



Comments (112)

"We've realised that girls, instead of being the pointless, silly creatures we took them for, are the most amazing, fascinating, desirable creatures on the planet." - Not on the basis of the article above, they're not. Selfish would be nearer the mark. "sex is an immensely valuable commodity" - Not if you value a relationship!
- Dave, Canterbury UK, 15/9/2009 14:10
Click to rate Rating 2

I LOVE how it's all men leaving comments here! Now we know who the majority of readers of the Femail section are!!
- Hanna Lazetta, Edinburgh, 09/9/2009 21:32
Click to rate Rating 7

Who cares, as long as you get laid?
- Gary, London, England, 09/9/2009 20:59
Click to rate Rating 1

I only slept with him out of politeness you say, what utter rubbish. To me the best part of sex is getting a woman aroused to the point she feels that she's going to explode with desire. To prolong that desire and to feel the person's body wringing with the need to complete an orgasm for hours on end is fantastic. I get as much out as I get back by making that person feel very, very special. But that just me.
- Carl Barron, Christchurch, Dorset, 09/9/2009 14:47
Click to rate Rating 16

Excited I went to that meadow, And there my lover came to me: I was received - Oh Holy Mary! That I'm in blissful ecstasy! Does he kiss me? - Thousand times! Tra la la la! See my lips - how red they shine! That he lay with me if someone knew. O my God! - Oh, how ashamed I'd be. What he did to me - no one, for true, Should know about but him and me ... And a tiny little bird - Tra la la la! That, I trust, will say no word. (Walther von der Vogelweide -1230 AD - & me still in congenial mood today)
- Joan Boost, Hong Kong, 09/9/2009 11:59
Click to rate Rating 6

...has it ever occurred that Men also promise and do things to get sex?! Coin. Flip. Side. It's a pretty big omission (and one that has been well documented throughout time) on behalf of the writer, don't you think?!? Clever men (can identify and know how to) avoid women who are more than likely to do this, though all are probably guilty of it at some point.
- M Connaughton, Manchester, UK, 09/9/2009 09:21
Click to rate Rating 16