Just read a blog post, titled “Hey, Stripper!” and written by a blessed young man, Preston by his name. This reading comes as the second refreshment on me this morning (will talk down the page about my first). Why am I so spiritually refreshed after reading his blog? Because it gives me hope, first for my three daughters and second for, maybe, yet another decent generation to follow ours (which wasn’t too stellar after all). Well, statistics are nothing like the thoughts in Preston’s mind and blog. Boys are brutally raised by a profit-oriented system. They are taught that’s OK to compromise your principles, to taint your soul or to sell your body. Anything has a face value, measured in money and glory — the two ingredients of power. Or should I say vanity?
Flash backward a century ago. Look at the Victorian system, definitely more moral than ours today. But don’t be superficial, look deeper into the details. You’ll find an equal amount of promiscuity and decadence. They had fewer means to trumpet it globally. Good manners were the norm and hypocrisy was more veiled than today. Men were same good and courteous or poorly educated and bad mannered. Just the percent differed from nowadays. But two great wars took care of that.
The feminist movements, initiated with all good intentions, projected a false equality concept in the minds of men. They were taught we’re all equal, or that we must be equal, since this was the mantra they heard in school. Boys didn’t think much before expecting gals to beat them at sports, to drink more beer than them, to fight and swear enough to impress them. We didn’t do that? Ah, our “equals” would laugh at us, ridiculing the “pussies.”
See how we learn from our mistakes, a century later, if at all. Women are not equal to men, look in the mirror gals. Women are complementary to men. My man calls me his “better half.” What God didn’t fit in lonely Adam, He left for gracious Eve, and gave her to him in order to be a complete body.
Now turn equality around, from our perspective. Do I wish my man to look and act like me? Am I in a perpetual competition with my man? He wouldn’t last five years before losing his temper and running away. Do you know why? Because love is no competition. Love is giving everything and expecting nothing. So I keep giving him everything, for almost a quarter of a century. And I expect nothing in return. He gave me, however, the most amazing and thrilling and blessed marriage I could dream about. Nothing is perfect under the sun, you tumble on material things here and there, but his love is perfect because he’s giving me everything from him while expecting nothing from me. This, my ladies, is not equality but love.
Looking at the world around, I cringed that such blessed boys would be even fewer today than they were during the eighties. But reading Preston’s blog gave me hope. Well educated boys are still out there, hard to find but worth trying. So, young lady, you say you’ve found your Prince, and he will go beyond your dreams. Very well. Don’t think the movie is over, no… This is only the beginning. You have to ride the same bike, to share the same bed, to produce offspring and educate your children according to your values, in spite of the surrounding system. Marriage is a war, but not a civil war.
Let’s dang a bit about keeping your man (yes, in no time you’ll discover he’s no prince, just a frog). Think I’ve blogged before on the matter, but nonetheless, new spin ups today.
Pornography. So many young ladies complain about it. If your voice should be heard by the industry and if porn will vanish tomorrow from the screens then what? Do you think that your men will enlighten all of a sudden? That they will become book writers, composers, ballerinas, cheerleaders? Think again, because men are built to stare at women, they are visual animals. It’s a feature. Otherwise Adam would have seen a meager nuisance in Eve. His body binds to her through his eyes, then the nostrils and other senses. But eyes rule supreme in the charming game.
Have you ever thought that pornography is narrowing the market of prostitution? Many men are just content with seeing, they don’t need to touch. I’ve asked mine about this (imagine that I was scared about the answer). And he returned to me as if talking about lingerie, “Honey, do you think I’d put my dick where some unwashed and unknown cowboy dumped his charge, eh?” See how a moral and spiritual theory delves into the simple matter of hygiene? “All hormones apart, it’s ultimately a contamination with a host of strangers. For what purpose when you can jack it off with your very well-known and clean hand.” He continued.
Oh, masturbation! The other plague of the day, one may say. Actually it’s as old as pornography and prostitution. It all began when men stared at women, more or less naked. Most of the time, men treat strippers like objects because, as Preston wrote in his blog, the strippers debase themselves to a lower condition. Most have to do this in order to make ends meet. Again the darn system. Yes, society is not fair. When you buy something, you pay for the product. When you order a service, you pay a fee. Same when you go to a strip bar, you pay for a service. Like a dentist, the stripper serves you the “service.” It’s a commercial transaction. Not a sentimental one. And here’s the problem. What problem? With those crazy men, you mean? No dear, with us, women!
Problem number one is with the wife of any married man who has to go to the strip club. Why don’t you strip for him? If you love him, then give him everything and expect nothing, remember? Ah, you’re not in the mood? Then allow him to watch some porn and cool himself down. Talk with him about this medical matter, sustain him as a brother and a friend, not as a sister and a mother. You’ll find out shortly that your place is near him, naked. And so you’ll discover the blessings of sex in marriage. Which isn’t happening ONLY when YOU want it but rather when HE wants it. And that’s so much more than you can handle.
But pornography and masturbation are a way in for lust and for at least a third person in your sex life.
On the physical aspect of this thorny matter, make sure in your soul and between you and your soul mate that you won’t accept “another one” at any cost. Scare him with dreadful words if you find fit, but refrain from freaking out because you’ll send the wrong signal.
On the fantasy aspect of this you can’t block daydreams. His fantasizing mind is like a wild mustang roaming the prairies. It’s more than fierce instincts that you’re called to gently wash out here. Take diplomacy and time as your allies. Don’t ever enforce rigid rules against fantasy as the forbidden fruit will strengthen the desire to bite. Be realistic. You are his best friend, allow him to confess the crazy stuff over and over to you. Be prepared to hear the unthinkable and be happy to hear the truth. Once confessed out of the mouth, fantasies are dead dragons, cold in the water. Oh yes, make sure he’s a particularly hygienic guy, make him a bug freak if he isn’t already. Fear of bugs kills all fantasy planning, trust me.
My first refreshment of this morning (as I promised in the intro) began few minutes before 5am and lasted until 6am. Like a cougar, I jump on his morning wood and have a good portion of a ride. After my first dripping wave, I turn around, horizontally, to allow his tongue taking me to surf a new tsunami, then thankfully I return to kiss his lips and ride his “only-mine” yet again until the fireworks explode in my head, thrilling down my spine. Then I command him to become a missionary and take the control over my fatigue. He blows my brains out but he won’t come, yet. Finally I blow him dry and, instead of sleeping or walking into the kitchen, he takes from me the kind of kiss that the French call boule de neige. Then he’s back on top of me, at 180 degrees, spreading what he took from my mouth down on me. I roar like a jet engine.
Yes, this is my man. I gave him sex twice this week, he masturbated once. Watching some home porn in the process, featuring me! Sorry, had no time to strip for him this week. But who knows, it’s only Thursday.