adult entertainment

there's been far too much heaviness around my life these days - final divorces, bad anniversaries, surgeries, stresses and struggles. i, for one, am damn tired of it. so tonight, i choose to go a different route. as always, when i go here, i've employed my old friend, the HTML jump. if you don't want to read about matters salacious and vulgar (and tonight, i DO mean vulgar - details are dished), i'll understand. but if you do? let's go.

baubles

one of the side effects of being a hardcore, intense football fan is that i watch a lot of sports on TV. this time of year, that means i see one HELL of a lot of jewelry commercials. nothing makes me stabbier, except for maybe that god-awful hyundai commercial with the twee-pop indie freaks. (i won't link to them. they're too famous as it is. GAAH.)

now, don't misunderstand me. i am a HUGE fan of jewelry. i like me some sparklies. i am well-known for throwing on sweats and flip-flops (or snow boots in this weather), no makeup and hair all thrown back into pigtails, but with a perfectly-matched necklace and earrings. i am a connoisseur of swarovski crystal, turquoise and sterling silver.

but oy, do these jewelry commercials reduce relationships to so much patriarchal pablum. the women in these ads are simpering fools; the guys are smug paternalists, riding in to SAVE THE DAY with a glinting bride-price. the worst offenders, by far, are kay jewelers and their just god-awful two hearts (or as the boyfriend calls them, the two asses - go back and look at them again; you'll see) collection. either that or the "zomg, it's raining, save me, o strong man, for i am a weak and spineless girl-child!" one.

it's enough to make you want to join a radical wymynist collective or something. seriously. can't the people in these commercials just, y'know, give each other gifts like normal human beings, without the women looking like tiny children and the men looking like purchasers of more than just jewelry? come on, folks. real women with brains are so much more fun than airheaded simpletons. and smart women appreciate gifts too. we just don't gape over them like deer in headlights. it's way more fun to win a woman's heart when she's your equal.

modern love

i have always thought of myself as a modern woman, a total feminist, liberated in every sense of the word. i'm a career woman (or at least i will be when i get out of school), a sports fan, the whole nine. but it's weird; every so often, i get the urge to get just a tiny bit traditional. y'know, cooking, cleaning, etc. so today, as i sat on the couch with my man and his friends, i watched football, drank, and held my own in all manner of discussions on lebron james, eli manning, and whether the redskins were pathetic or just outclassed.

but i also, without any help from the boys, fixed an entire dinner for them. i brought beer to them, laid out their plates, the whole nine yards. i do this from time to time; i get a weird charge out of being a well-rounded woman (brains and domesticity all in one package!). but it's strange how this guy brings out this instinct in me. when i was in my old relationship, i HATED to cook. dear god, it was such a chore. and it's not like my workload was that much different then than it is now. quite the contrary. but with a new man, a new group of people in my life, and a new outlook on things, i find myself so much more willing to do things like this.

there's a lot of argument in this world about what it means to be a feminist, a liberated woman, etc., etc., etc. i've never been too interested in laying down a definition of appropriate "feminist bona fides." i've always felt like the whole point of being pro-woman is embracing the just infinite menu of choices in this world available to men and allowing that same menu of choice to be available to women at the same time. so i guess it's that same openness that allows me to get into good-natured yelling matches with my man's friends about sports, then turn around and serve them dinner with no issues.

this is modern love. this is modern life. a woman can, and should, stand her ground in her choices, no matter what they are. own who you are in front of the people you love. it's the best way to be true to yourself, and it's the most feminist stand you can take. bake a cake. shoot a gun. cheer like hell for your favorite football team (WHODAT!). just be who you are. if he's a real man, he won't be scared of anything you do. he'll love you all the more for being open, free and honest.

and if he's a keeper, he'll do the dishes. mine did. :)

veneer

as open as i am in this setting (i.e., i will write just about anything here), it may surprise some of you to hear that i can be quite prim, proper and even shy in my real life. i really am more southern than i let on, in the traditional sense. i tend to live by the axiom, "would my grandmother approve of me saying/doing this?" this governs how i dress in most situations, and it definitely governs how i act.

but sometimes, just sometimes, i let my guard down. as traditional as i can be, every so often i let go and indulge every dark instinct that streaks through my brain. and you know better than most what i can do when properly inspired. i usually traffic in innuendo, flirtation... generally skirting the issue and hoping that you get the message i'm sending. but you cracked the code, didn't you? you broke through my carefully constructed veneer of propriety and found the passion underneath. you got me to be blunt with you, and i ate it up like sugar candy. you lead, i'll follow.

i want nothing more than to give you exactly what you want. you know this, and you indulge me my strange shyness. but every so often, you goad me, you push me, and you get me to deliver the goods. i still can't get over how unbelievably satisfying your insistence can be, and how receptive you are when i open up to you and tell you specifically what's going on in my head. in your hands, i am skilled; with your enthusiastic encouragement, i can be what you want. i only hope your experience is as satisfying as mine is. you are so, so worth it.

texts from last night

i have a new text plan - i now get unlimited messages every month. it was the only thing i could do; overage charges are a bitch and a half, and this was the only way to stave off a nasty surprise in the next billing cycle. really, you'd think 1500 messages a month would be enough for someone like me. hell, up until this summer, i'd never used more than 500.

but you've suddenly taken over my phone in ways i never imagined. oh, it started innocently enough; a question here, a funny observation there. no big deal. that's how we've always been. but then came the other night. started off as a chat about football, laughing about something stupid some analyst said. but then, every other comment was laced with a level of innuendo i'd never seen from you. you usually save talk like that for when we're alone, behind closed doors. you surprised me, my dear. that night, you led a master class in seduction in 160 characters or less. a slow, teasing burn, never directly letting on, but working on me in ways you knew would get to me. finally, you broke me down, calling me from my bed and across town to yours. i walked barefoot into your house and tore into you like you were water and i was lost in the desert. you hit your mark, no question.

and ever since you drew me to you that night, you've shown an interest in me both pure and impure. every night, innocent or lurid, we're texting each other. even as i write this tonight, we're in mid-conversation on my phone. (mmm.) you intrigue me beyond belief. we've talked about this, and you've told me time and time again that there's nothing behind the wall. i don't think you're lying to me. i just wonder if you're as sure of that statement as you were before. maybe i've shown you something. maybe you've changed. maybe this is nothing more than a new level of flirtation. i can't be sure. i'm not certain if i even care.

just tread lightly. be careful. and for god's sake, don't stop.