Tag Archives: men

Leave my ass alone

Leave my ass alone

Seriously:  what is it with men and women’s asses?  I have to think it’s not just me.  My mother completely commiserated with me about this very issue not too long ago.  My mother who is a woman of a certain age and married for 48 years to my Alzheimer dad – he still can’t keep his hands off her ass.

Last night I exploded.  Enough already.  The Boyfriend Candidate doesn’t grab my ass in some sexual, erotic or even remotely intimate way.  It’s more like a lift and jiggle or a grab and shake or even a poke like you would a water bed to see the ripple effect.  I loathe it.  I’m not some thing, some object, here for perverse entertainment.  I’m certainly not a bowl of Jell-o setting in the fridge waiting for the test poke.

My mother tells me that when she hears Dad walking into a room behind her, she tenses and tries to turn before he can get to her ass.  I know this feeling.  She’s been coping for almost fifty years and can’t get him to stop.  And she can be mean.

I finally told the Boyfriend Candidate last night, “How would you like it if I grabbed and jiggled your package just to watch it flop around?” And I demonstrated in case he didn’t get the picture.  He accused me of hurting him.  Duh.  That’s my point.  There is hurt with this kind of objectification by the person you adore (but seem to be adoring less as each instance occurs).  I was confident I made my point.

Until an hour ago.  He scared the hell out of me by doing a peeping Tom thing in my office window.  I screamed and started crying.  I was precariously close to peeing myself.  He came in and was obviously concerned the joke had gone too far.  He opened his arms, tenderly embraced me, wiped away my tears, and jiggled my ass.


Really, men will want you

Really, men will want you

A couple of years ago, after my husband decided he was done with us, I confided to my friend Erin that I had no where to go with men.  I was old (at the time 46), perimenopausal, careerless, with three children, one of them special needs, and a mountain of debt.  I was out there on the open market with nothing.  NOTHING.

Erin said no.  “Oh no.  Get on eHarmony right now.  You won’t believe it.  The men are out there and, really, men will want you.”

Not one to not take a good friend’s advice, especially when the outcome seemed so beneficial, I immediately joined eHarmony and spent the next four hours filling out their online questionnaire.  After that workout, I felt that a) I couldn’t possibly know myself any better than at that moment and b) I’m going to meet someone who has been screened to within an inch of his life.  How could he not be perfect after that virtual rectal exam?  Seriously – if you haven’t been through it you should.  I broke out in a sweat, I cried, I laughed, I took notes – and it was an online survey.

I pushed submit.  I was in.  I was committed.  I got the message which stated that it could take several hours for results to come.  It could take a few days.  That didn’t stop me from checking every 15 minutes.

And nothing came.  No one wanted me.  I even checked the “search nationwide” box hoping to expand the possibilities!  Cast the widest net!  Nothing.

Then twelve hours later, the first guy came through!  Erin was right, I am wanted!!  I couldn’t click fast enough to see who Mr. Right was.

Mr. Right was a balding, with comb-over, red-haired guy wearing a muscle shirt standing next to his El Camino.  He was diminuitive.  A hair stylist from Denver.  A subsequent photo showed him standing next to his “rose garden” which consisted of a single bush planted, inexplicably, in the middle of his yard.  Oh God.  This was my man.  Shoot me.

He was my only man for the next 24 hours, then other candidates started to come through.  And I was much relieved and my faith in the universe restored.  For an entire day though, I thought that guy was it for me.  I had sunk to that depth.  It was painful.  And I was going to have to let my friend Erin go.  How could she have been so wrong?  How could she have put me through that?

So like the Phoenix, I rose from the ashes of the El Camino Comb-Over.  Maybe eHarmony does that on purpose:  completely lowers your expectations then builds you back up.

Whatever, it worked for me.  Ever since then, all men have looked pretty good.  All other men.