So, yeah…this one isn’t for little eyes. It’s not graphic, but it is frank.
Yesterday, I was all about the women folk. My sistas. The ones who’ve always had my back. I made some men very happy because I spoke truth and helped them out a bit. Pipe down, boys. Stella’s got her groove back, and at 43 she’s just hitting her stride. I like you guys. I really do. I’m rooting for you. Think of me as the short, white female Hitch who comes to your rescue once you’ve sealed the deal with the wedding band and For Better or For Worse…as Long as You Both Shall Live is standing beside you in the bathroom, leaning forward into the mirror, face covered with cold cream plucking her eyebrows.
It’s really all so simple. Want a good woman? Be a good man. Notice I didn’t say Be a man. I don’t know know what that means anymore than I understand why you guys insist on using the phrase grow a pair as if testicles are the magic bullet to toughness. (You want tough, grow two babies at once inside you, have a doctor cut through layers upon layers of muscle, yank out said babies, and then start feeding the babies…with your own body…that was just cut wide open. You can grow all the pairs you want. I’ve still got you beat.)
When you are dating a woman – I’m starting before the marrying part – if she monopolizes all your time – run. If she’s always blowing off her friends to be with you and yours, run. It’s flattering at first. It’s chilling later. Think boiling rabbits. If you aren’t 40 yet, Google boiling rabbits. That movie scared the fidelity into an entire generation of men….for about two weeks. Once you’ve married a good woman please accept the fact that she needs her space and her friends as much as you do. Guys, get your own friends and go out and do stuff with them every once in a while. Women, you do the same. It is not the job of your significant other to fill every single emotional need. Can we not suck the life out of one another, please?
Gentleman, you can never tell a woman too many times that she’s beautiful. I don’t care how drop dead gorgeous you think she is – the media tells her otherwise 3,498 times a day. Our thighs aren’t supposed to touch. Our breasts should resemble headlights. Our hair should flow like Secretariat’s mane. Our nails should be delicate, our lips pouty, our cheeks flushed and our waists tiny. Want more? Let’s see, our bums firm, our biceps defined and our abs washboard. Our minds? What minds? The media tells us jack about our minds. It takes a lot to undo all these messages hurled at us nonstop. Do whatever it takes, men, to get the message through to your woman that she does it for you.
Kids are game changers. No one gets this more than the woman. Her body has been stretched and beaten and bruised, and what she doesn’t need is a man who complains that he isn’t gettin’ any. Buddy, whining to your exhausted, hormonal, emotional woman isn’t going to get you any, any faster. Suck.It.Up. You men need to understand that kids drain our souls. They change the way we think. They change our bodies which in turns change our minds and not always for the better. We feel overworked, overwhelmed and under appreciated, and we need the men in our lives to understand this, to help us, to love us, to support us and to hold us when we cry from sheer exhaustion. This is called adulthood. It means you put your needs and wants on the back burner because a kid has come into play. It won’t be this way forever, but it will be this way for a while.
Is parenthood terrifying? Heck, yeah! We’re all terrified. Be terrified together. This is the For Better or For Worse Part. After all the diapers, daycare, cleats, tap shoes, music lessons, sports teams and 9,489 boxes of Cheez Its, this is the For Poorer part, but it’s so much easier when it’s a team of two doing the parenting instead of a team of one. Be a team…of two.
When the beasts grow, they still demand the heck out us, so don’t stop supporting your significant other. Just because she has the mini van doesn’t mean you skip carpool duty. You also don’t get a pass come science fair time and field trips to the origami museum. Some of you are all in when it comes to coaching AAU ball, but when we ask you if you’ll babysit for three hours so we can run errands in peace, you’d think we’d asked you for your right testicle on a plate. (Ladies, in this situation, it’s okay to say grow a pair…because really, they need to.) Tuck the kids in. Read to the kids. There’s nothing sexier to a woman than a man down on the floor, kids hanging all over him while he’s reading Dr. Seuss with all the different voices. When your little kids grow into big kids, it doesn’t stop. Be.Their.Dad.
There’s a little something called porn. It makes a lot of us women feel like crap. I’m not here to lecture, shame, or preach, but I’m going to share something that might change your perspective. When I was a little girl, my family lived on about 50 acres, and a lot of it was field and woods, and I roamed wild. There was a large cement bridge that crossed a creek, and, unbeknownst to me, the neighborhood boys hid girlie magazines up under its metal beams. One day when I was down playing in the creek, I saw something sticking out from the bridge and climbed up to investigate. I didn’t know it then, but in a few short seconds, the book of my innocence was closing forever. I’ll never forget the woman on the page I opened up to. I was 10…the age my daughters are now. I didn’t know what I was looking at had a name; all I knew is that it made me feel sick…and dirty. It made me hate what was happening to my body as everything about it started changing around that time – because what I learned looking at that magazine was that the only thing men liked about women were their naked bodies…naked bodies that looked like that woman’s. In that moment, alone, with no one around to protect me, that magazine changed how I viewed myself as a girl and later on as a woman. That shit doesn’t go away. I’ve been battling body issues for years. How a woman views her body directly affects the kind of sex you will experience as a couple. Respect her body. Respect all women’s bodies. You may want to argue with me that yes, what happened to 10 Year Old TIS is too bad, but you don’t have issues and neither does your wife. Okay. I can accept that. Want your daughter or son to star in a porn? Want him or her to spread eagle in a centerfold? Why not? Want to support sex slavery and human trafficking? Do a little research as to where the people you look at and watch come from. They aren’t all actors paid to scale with generous benefit packages. There’s a little something called exploitation. Don’t be guilty of it. Don’t think for a minute that your porn doesn’t hurt someone else. Someone else is always hurt. If none of these arguments make a difference to you, then think about this: there are three dimensional women out there. They are smart and funny, engaging, warm and kind, and you are missing out on them while you are holed up with your small, two dimensional screen. So.Not.Sexy.
I’ve saved the best for last. It’s really so easy…and it leads to the sex…that thing you are always thinking about. Do things with her and for her. Yes, she needs her space, but she also needs you…she likes you…she really does, so hang out in the kitchen drying dishes, leave a post it note on the microwave (And no, it shouldn’t read, Get more food.), carry in the groceries, help her with a presentation for work, tag along on one of her runs – unless she’s running to clear her mind – then stay away. Far away. Surprise her with Colts tickets…or better yet, floor seats at Assembly Hall…okay that would work for me…maybe your wife wants tickets to something else. My point is whatever it is that she likes to do, do it with her every once in a while. Is that really so hard? Ladies, same goes for you. I know you may not feel like doing the stuff he likes all the time, but once a month won’t kill you. (Just so we’re clear here, I’m not talking sex. You really should be doing that more than once a month. Really. A lot more….unless you have ankle biters running around…..anklebiters turn adults into sex camels. It’s just the way it is….but it doesn’t last forever. Promise.)
My work here is done. I’m going to take down my Hitch sign, and put my TIS one back up. I hope this helps someone, somewhere because even though mine ended, I still I believe in marriage. I believe in romance, fluttery stomachs and long, sultry stares across crowded rooms. I also believe in personal sacrifice, respect, kindness and affirmations. I believe in all of it because I believe in LOVE. More importantly, so does your amazing wife.
Now, go be good to her.