HP is a sauce of manliness. (Any attempt at facial hair must be applauded. Literally.)
HP is a sauce of manliness. (Any attempt at facial hair must be applauded. Literally.)
Instead of posting on this blog the past couple of weeks, I’ve been cruising the back alleys of the internet. There I stumbled across galtime.com, a website like many others, serving the needs of women in love and life 24 hours a day.
I read about the 3 Mistakes Women Make in the Bedroom that Dr. Jane Greer is most concerned about. There are, of course, many other mistakes women are prone to make, the silly little things, but these three are of a more pressing urgency than the others. Not that the others aren’t important! You should still read 6 Things Women Do That Scare Men Off, 7 Reasons Why You Don’t Want Sex, and 5 Ways to Be a Better Lover. Not to mention 5 Tips For Getting In “The Mood”. Because if you can’t figure that one out, your man’s going to leave you this very week.
Anyway, back to the urgent 3 Mistakes. Here’s a quote:
Mistake #1: Comfy Clothes
I know, ladies, that you want to be in those those comfortable nightgowns, those comfortable jammies, that you wear. But, honestly, the quickest turn-off to your partner or spouse are your comfy clothes. So, if you want to spice things up in your love life, shed those comfy clothes and find a ice, hot bra or a nice nighty, something you can be slinky, sexy and comfortable in that will be a TURN-ON to your partner.
Mistake #2: NOT Taking the Lead
Don’t wait to get asked to dance, meaning you’ve got to take the lead. You don’t have to wait for your partner to ask you to have sex or make love with them. Get involved, get into bed, take the lead and get your partner into bed with you. You’ll both have a lot of fun and enjoy yourselves.
Mistake #3: Criticism
It’s to be avoided at all costs. Nothing will turn off your partner faster than you telling him what you DON’T like and what you don’t want taking place. On the other hand, what will be a complete arousal and turn-on is letting him know what he CAN do to please you and what will excite you if he does it.
So, tell him what you like, wear those sexy clothes and, most importantly of all, take the lead so that you can have the fun you’re looking for!
Remember, ladies, the good doctor tells us that these are mistakes to be avoided AT ALL COSTS! Nothing ought to stand in the way of you keeping your man happy with what, let’s face it, has been pretty mediocre service. This is all good advice, but at the end of the day, Dr. Greer is a woman. If you ladies want a man’s take on these 3 Mistakes, The Giant is here for you. You can read my take, you can watch the video at the end of this post, or you can do both.
Giant Take on Mistake #1: Comfy Clothes
It is well known that husbands do not think it’s sexy when their wives wear hubby’s t-shirts. Wait. What?! Of course they do! And what about the sweet way some flannel pajama pants accentuate the plump shapeliness of the derriere? Or is that just me?
Even if it is just me…come on! Women, are you really going to wear black lacy panties all day every day? Or sneak off to change if there’s a chance of “intimacy”? Or wake up before your husband so you can put make-up on?
The real problem, of course, as it is with the other two “mistakes”, is men and husbands. If it is true that “the quickest turn-off to your partner or spouse are your comfy clothes”, then men are all evil assholes. Husbands, if comfy clothes are a turn-off, learn to look at your wife through new eyes. Because the ones you’re using now aren’t working.
It isn’t they who woo us. It is we who woo them. That means we come to them as they are, and we entreat their affection.
Giant Take on Mistake #2: NOT Taking the Lead
I’m not sure why “not” is all in caps.
Wives apparently mess up by NOT taking the lead.
I’m sure most husbands would be glad to have a wife who did their work for them. Wait a second…that’s already a thing! A few years into my marriage I suggested to my wife that it might be nice if she were a little more assertive, if she went after me once in a while.
Know what she did? She laughed at me and told me to be a man. Seriously. Those were her very words.
And that’s sexy.
Nothing wrong with wifey taking the lead. But husbands, you are men. You’re the hunter, you’re the wooer. And your biology backs that up. You’re always going to be going after her; if she came after you, it would only be for variety’s sake, because she will never come after you the way you go after her (although later on it will be okay if she comes after you). So be content with that. That’s your role. You’re the pursuer. Don’t pout and make her chase you; that’s at least as harmful to the female mind as an unresponsive and arbitrary woman is to her man’s wee little psyche.
Giant Take on Mistake #3: Criticism
When I initially read Dr. Greer’s blurb, I was reading for a laugh. Then I hit this one and I stopped laughing. It hit home a little more. I’ve had this exact conversation with my wife. The point made is not so much that women are always nagging and criticizing their men; it’s that women shouldn’t frame things negatively in bed. Less “don’t do that” and more “yes, do that”.
Great point for both sexes. But in sex, the man is usually the performer. He is the one who is doing it to her. He is more vulnerable to criticism because he is initiating and following through. Fair enough. Women should be considerate of that.
But the underlying assumption is the same stupid thing. That the problems in the bedroom are the woman’s fault. Nothing wrong with asking wifey to frame things more positively. But husbands ought to stop being whiney and susceptible and start being doers. You make it so that your wife feels comfy wearing comfy clothes. You make it so that your wife doesn’t have to take the lead when you’re actually the one who wants to have sex all the time. You be the one to set a positive atmosphere, to praise her beauty and her skill.
Stop whining. Maybe then your wives will stop being so insecure. If you want to be built up, build her up. If you tear her down, you’ll go down with her.
Anyone for a closing pun?
I’m not an exclusive psalmody type (what is exclusive psalmody?). But I had to put together a little Ron Swanson inspiration for all Christians after reading a friend’s tweet:
This evening I ate like Ron Swanson and sang Psalms like a warrior.
Psalms are warrior-like. Psalms are manly. I imagine that Ron prefers to sing psalms. Next someone will have to ask him his opinion of the regulative principle.
When I read your poetry, I shake my head at your unfortunate phrasing. I was glad when you recognized that to speak on universals, you needed to find strange and new ways of expression. But I winced when you went over the top. Your Vortex on a String poem was particularly difficult to stomach.
You have to be really careful about using such brutal and aggressive words. “A cavalcade of anger and fear”? “Five years in Sweden dying for you”? “My days are like a burning fuselage”? Too much; too heavy-handed.
Alas, I cannot help that I am cynical and overly critical. I am too weak to be better than that.
Boys and girls, be beautiful. And be unashamed. Be better than me; be like John Darnielle of Mountain Goats. If I had found a lyric like “a cavalcade of anger and fear” in my old journals, I would have cringed, and perhaps even scratched it out. But that is because I am too weak and impure, too lacking in beautiful sincerity to pull it off. When Darnielle sings lines like that, you can see and hear how invested he is in them; he makes you believe that it truly was a cavalcade of anger and fear. What does it matter if haters don’t like the expression? He’s telling you how it was.
Earnestness is a beautiful quality. Mean what you say. Sell out to it. Live to what you’ve attained.
It is common for children to be beaten by their fathers. It is common for men to be left utterly alone. It is common for men to despair. Speak to those common things in a way that acknowledges how huge and terrible they are. They might happen to every man, but that makes them no less immense. And the salvation that comes to men is no less immense. Offer it sincerely, and earnestly. Find and express the beauty in it, caring nothing for the fact that millions before you have voiced the same thing.
Don’t be cool. Be beautiful. Be true. Be good.
I hung out yesterday with a friend who is very enthusiastic about chickens. He has many chickens at his home, and as he sat in the garden drinking beer with me, I could tell from the way he watched my four chickens that he loved them.
He is trying to raise a bunch of Marans chickens, a French breed which it is illegal to bring into the U.S. He bought twenty chicks in Georgia, which, disappointingly, is quite legal. I guess once the chickens are here there’s no problem. This disappointed me greatly because I’d thought for a moment that I knew a chicken smuggler.
Anyway, Marans lay a dark chocolate-colored egg which is said to be super-duper delicious. My friend told me that his experience was “Yeah, yeah, I’m sure they’re good, but an egg’s an egg…wait…these are amazingly delicious!” This from someone who’s very used to the eggs of free range chickens; the Marans eggs were that outstanding. I’m really looking forward to trying some when his chickens are grown.
This friend also mentioned that Marans are James Bond’s favorite eggs. Ian Fleming loved egg dishes, and he gave James Bond a voracious appetite for eggs, particularly scrambled eggs. Here is a recipe for the Bond eggs, which has much molten butter whisked in, and was included in Ian Fleming’s short story Thrilling Cities.
When in England and not on a mission, Bond dines as simply as Fleming did on dishes such as grilled sole, oeufs en cocotte and cold roast beef with potato salad. When on a mission, however, Bond eats more extravagantly. This was partly because in 1953, when Casino Royale was published, many items of food were still rationed, and Bond was “the ideal antidote to Britain’s postwar austerity, rationing and the looming premonition of lost power”. This extravagance was more noteworthy with his contemporary readers for Bond eating exotic, local foods when abroad, at a time when most of his readership did not travel abroad.
On 1 April 1958 Fleming wrote to The Manchester Guardian in defence of his work, referring to that paper’s review of Dr. No. Whilst referring to Bond’s food and wine consumption as “gimmickery”, Fleming bemoaned that “it has become an unfortunate trade-mark. I myself abhor Wine-and-Foodmanship. My own favourite food is scrambled eggs.” Fleming was so keen on scrambled eggs that he used his short story, “007 in New York” to provide his favourite recipe for the dish: in the story, this came from the housekeeper of his friend Ivar Bryce, May, who gave her name to Bond’s own housekeeper.
Scrambled eggs are, by the way, delicious for dinner. In this iconic Ron Swanson clip (the “Turf n’ Turf), the right to consume a t-bone, a porterhouse, a whiskey, and a cigar at the same time is heralded as quintessentially American. It might be. It is certainly quintessentially testosteroney. But what remains unmentioned by Swanson is the generous serving of scrambled eggs next to the steaks. Fleming and Bond would have been proud.
Pastor Toby Sumpter hits the nail on the head by reminding Christian fathers that they ought to praise their sons. So often it seems that fathers are afraid that praise might cause sin, but aren’t afraid that criticism and harshness will.
Ultimately Jesus is the answer to this problem, but dads play a huge role in communicating the answer to their kids. Sons in particular need dads who are affirming, who regularly, graciously tell their sons that they are proud of them, that they respect them. They need dads who praise them, ask them for advice, get their input and help on projects. This doesn’t mean ignoring sin or pretending that you like the blue mohawk or the nose ring or certain life choices, but wherever there is goodness, you jump up and down and praise it. You talk about your favorite things about your son, about his accomplishments, his goals, his gifts, and perhaps most importantly, the ways he’s different than you that you think are so cool.
God our Father doesn’t come to us with a list of infractions. He doesn’t come to us with his fingers crossed behind His back. He isn’t hiding secret thoughts about us. He isn’t pretending to like us on the outside but secretly deeply disappointed. God comes to us as a Father who is pleased with His Son, who rejoices over His Son, and invites us into that fellowship, that love by the Holy Spirit.
Read the entire post here, Dad-Shaped Holes.
Last weekend I was at a neighbor’s Independence Day party. Beer was being drunk, children were running around with sparklers, mulleted rednecks were playing terrible terrible terrible basketball on a hoop placed in the packed dirt and grass of this guy’s yard. I was sitting about twenty yards from the hoop, talking to an older gentleman about his days as a machinist. The ball rolled toward me, so I scooped it up, continuing my conversation, beer in hand, and chucked the ball at the rim with that sweet little rotation you know is a part of my shot.
Nothing but net. I sat back down with supreme nonchalance as the crowd erupted.
I won’t pretend I didn’t love it.
A few days later I was at a construction site with a basketball-loving co-worker. There was another basket on the grass of this house’s yard, and a ball lying about ten yards from the hoop. I picked up the ball, related the above story to this friend of mine, and as I described taking the first shot, I chucked the ball I was holding at the basket. I had to keep the shot low to get through the branches, but there was never any doubt. It rattled in.
I was sure to remind my friend a few more times that day that I’d made a shot while talking about making a shot. That, to coin a phrase, is so meta.
So as we headed out of the house this morning I picked up one of our basketballs and called out to my wife. I told Kimberly the story of the first shot, and of the crowd’s glorious reaction. I told her how I’d cold-bloodedly hit a shot while talking trash to my friend. And as I told her that I’d “made a shot while I was talking about making a shot”, I launched the ball at the rim without a shadow of a doubt that it was going straight in.
It slammed into the front of the rim.
Why am I never able to impress my woman?
Talking about money makes you dirty. Yep, I just said it. And please note, it doesn’t just make you feel dirty. It actually makes you dirty.
Now for all the qualifications.
If it’s your business, talk about it. Are you a department head talking to a comptroller? Talk about it. Are you a husband talking to a wife? Go ahead. Are you trying to convince an acquaintance to invest in your company? Do it.
If it’s not your business, stay away. And don’t try any of that “Those who won’t talk about money won’t make any money” schtuff I ran across as I googled away in preparation for this post. I’ve had frank conversations about money with friends…when we were talking about going into business together. It might even be a very casual conversation, money talk doesn’t have to be stressful, but it does have to be…
…one of my favorite concepts ever! Money talk has to be modest!
I don’t care if you think my wife is hot. In fact, I’ll probably be pleased. It might even have become obvious over the course of our friendship that you thought so. And everything would have been cool. If only you hadn’t said “Your wife is so hot” out loud. It got weird then.
I don’t care if you’ve figured out how much money I make. I have a certain kind of job, I have a particular house, I wear these clothes. Just don’t ever get explicit; don’t get immodest.
The other day I got caught up in a conversation about home buying. An acquaintance mentioned that he’d looked in our neighborhood, at a house, in fact, that is just one over from ours. I expressed interest. He then told me that he didn’t think much of the price of this home. Fine so far, although I was beginning to get uncomfortable. Then he dropped the bombshell. “I looked up how much they paid for that house. I even looked up what you paid for yours.”
I was absolutely flabbergasted.
I didn’t mind that he had the information. I would have told a friend if the friend was just trying to get a grasp on prices in my neighborhood and was just being clumsy. I probably wouldn’t have told this person if he’d asked me directly (saying something generic like “We got a pretty good deal” and moving on), but I wouldn’t have cared if he’d gotten the information from somewhere else. In fact, as soon as he’d said “I looked up how much they paid for that house” I knew he’d looked up the price of ours.
It was his telling me he’d looked that blew me away.
Modesty, people. Circumspection. The lack of it when talking about money makes you dirty. It’s the way you do it. You make it creepy, dude.
I have family in Palm Beach County.
I hate going to Palm Beach County. Do you know why? It’s not because of Palm Beach. That’s where all the outrageously rich people live, both the sophisticated and the gauche, the nouveau and the vieux riche. The rich are like the poor: some are polite and some are rude, depending on what their mamas taught them. I hate going down there because of West Palm Beach. West Palm is where all the middle class South Floridians live their money-grubbing lives.
These people don’t even have the decency to drive gaudy convertibles and build houses with outrageous columns out front. No, these people commit a worse sin than that. They talk about money all the time.
I now become the sort of man who accuses others of being bourgeois.
Obsession with money is what makes these people “middle class”. They are the perfect example of what bourgeois is. The problem is not lack of money, or lack of business success. The problem is concupiscence.
1bour·geois1: of, relating to, or characteristic of the social middle class3: dominated by commercial and industrial interests :capitalistic
“Middle class…” “…a tendency toward mediocrity…”
There it is. Mediocrity. The word I’ve been looking for. The idea that will convince you to shut up and not talk about your money or mine.
Go make money. Lots of it. Save money. Lots of it. Tip less, coupon more, I don’t care. But don’t get caught up in talking and thinking about money all the time. It will crush the spark of genius in you that might have done great things…like write beautiful sonnets or explore new worlds or make lots of money. Talking about ideas (including business ideas) will make you smart; talking about money will make you dumb.
Men who think about and talk about women every waking hour cannot write love poetry or find true love. Those who think about and talk about money all the time only ever see that they don’t have enough, and they never will have enough.
Men who are openly lustful make the women around them uncomfortable; the women feel judged and violated. Those whose minds and mouths are always on their money make their friends feel judged and violated.
That is why it’s rude to talk about money. And if you insist on being asininely Randian about this, then I will advise you that your own self-interest will be best served if you close your mouth, pour yourself a lemonade, and open a nice book of sonnets. You might not get richer, but you’ll feel richer. And maybe, just maybe, the new sonnet-reading you will be able to vault himself out of mediocrity with a soulful bounding leap.
Many of the readers of The Giant are familiar with the haka or Maori war dance that New Zealand’s rugby All Blacks perform. It’s pretty sweet, and is worth watching a video of.
Even more awesome than the All Black haka is this, which I just stumbled upon at Wikipedia.
“A human being should be able to change a diaper, plan an invasion, butcher a hog, conn a ship, design a building, write a sonnet, balance accounts, build a wall, set a bone, comfort the dying, take orders, give orders, cooperate, act alone, solve equations, analyze a new problem, pitch manure, program a computer, cook a tasty meal, fight efficiently, die gallantly. Specialization is for insects.”
Robert Anson Heinlein (July 1907 – May 1988)
Via Rooted Man.