Thursday, September 07, 2006

bla di bla di bla

I was over on Idiosyncratic Routine reading about Kate's last week today (wtf?) and I got to thinking. Then the baby shat his pants and I lost my train of thought, but whatever.

There is nothing wrong with going out with a guy friend.

There is nothing wrong with porn either, in the right context, but that's a whole 'nother page right there. Personally, I don't get off on it, but I respect that it has its place in some people's lives. I'm more likely to spend my time stifling giggles at the sound effects or scoring them on a scale of 1 to 10 for authenticity. Oh wait! There was this one time when we were watching a group sex shindig thing where there were, like, twenty guys taking turns giving it to this sheila right up her poopchute. Firstly, choice of two, so hello? Secondly, there was this one guy who faked it. He actually pretended to ram the star of the show so while he tried to hide his lack of adequately inflated equipment, I could see that all he was doing was banging his thighs against her arse and moaning. We rewound that section several times while I held up my "number 1" score card. But I digress. Suffice to say that if my sex life isn't fucked up, no pun intended, because my guy likes porn, then his relationship he has with his hand is none of my business. Unless of course he's whacking off to pictures of children or women blowing goats or the like because that's some serious fucked up shit right there. Seriously though, getting to a point in your life where you think to yourself "You know what'd be really hot? Giving head to a farm animal." is pretty fucked up in itself, but going ahead and doing it? On the internet? Good lord, I hate to think of the path that preceded that particular moment of glory.

Back to my original point which is, jiminy crispers, does sleeping with one guy mean you have to ignore the fact that half the population on this planet is a guy too, and that given the odds, you're likely to enjoy the company of seventy billion of them too?

Men (and women) who get jealous, in my judemental little opinion, get so because they know their contribution to the relationship isn't enough and so expect their partner to be dissatisfied enough, or sad enough even, to look elsewhere. People who get jealous usually, in my other small minded opinion, do their best to diminsh their partner's self esteem, the logic being, if they're insecure enough, they won't leave them for an upgraded and more loving model, rather, they'll hang on to the jealous partner like they were a life buoy as by this point, their jealous partner has them convinced that they're unloveable.

If you know you're making your partner feel special and loved and cherished, why would you worry if she or he went out for a beer with someone else? If you truly and selflessly love someone, you want them to have fun, you want them to enjoy life, and you want them to have a life apart from the one you share with them, because that kind of partner knows that love isn't about ownership, or about each 'completing' the other. They're already complete so they don't need anyone to 'complete' them (god, I hate that phrase). They know that love and need are NOT the same thing, and they know that love is about sharing a life, not owning one.

If that kind of partner feels insecure about their equal partner in life going out - and they do - they own their insecurity, they don't pass it off for the other to wear. Think "I worry that I'm not enough for you" or "that you'll like him/her better" versus the Other Half's (to whit, ick. I mean, who determines which half you are? Are you, the left side or the right? Bottom or top? Or d'ya think the half is more evenly distributed so that you get two arms and one leg while the rest of the other half belongs to your Other Half?) accusation of "You fucking slut!" when all we're talking about is a beer and a few peanuts. Seriously, which is more likely to be rewarded with reassurance and love, and which with lies and deceit? How do you spell 'deceit'? According to I'm right. Well then - and you know what else?! Practise is the verb, practice is the noun. Yeah, I know. Who fucking knew? Not me. Man, I swear. Language, eh? It's weird.

But where the fuck was I? Oh yeah, relationships and stuff. I forgot where I was but I'd say that I know that the rest of the world doesn't agree with me, and to that 99.999 (recurring) percent of the population I'd like to say this: I'm right, you're wrong. Neener.

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