The Boxer with 3 Fists (part 1)

Pictograms of Olympic sports - Boxing. This is...

Pictograms of Olympic sports – Boxing. This is unofficial sample picture. Images of official Olympic pictograms for 1948 Summer Olympics and all Summer Olympics since 1964 can be found in corresponding Official Reports. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

So, I met this Boxer dude from Ecuador. Yes, he was really from Ecuador…or Colombia, which is really the same thing when you think about it. After you pass Mexico, everything just gets kind of fuzzy geographically speaking. I mean, when you’re trying to remember countries and their capitols. It’s not as though I went there or anything. I met the guy right here in the USA.

I don’t have to tell you that he was good-looking, because you already know me and that in spite of those one or two times I veered, I pretty much hold to a standard.  He was not that tall, but I learned to take that in stride as a reality that one has to commonly deal with among Hispanic men.  Don’t get me wrong, they are not all as short as the men I met when I lived in Guatemala for a while. I’m on the short side of average myself among North American people. So imagine my horror when I arrived in Central America only to discover that I was looking down at most of the men! I’m also on the chunky side of slender—okay, no. I’m not only fat, but I’m insanely voluptuous, which led a certain Guatemalan gentleman to ask ingenuously if back in the States I require my clothes to be specially made!

Since I can certainly buy my clothes at Walmart like any other southern American, and since I don’t have to get any sizes that end in an excessive number of X’s, I was taken aback. I congratulate myself for not asking him if he required the same! I swear those men had on clothes the same size that my 9-year-old son wore back then!

But I digress. The point is that Marco was not like that, since he was not from Guatemala; of that I’m certain.

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Come out of the Closet (AND the correct bathroom, please!) part 4

Poop Mouth

Poop Mouth (Photo credit: sparklemotion0)

But wait, there’s more to my bright idea: What about if a woman were in dire need to get a tire fixed or to put a child through college? Well, then she might pop a diuretic or a chocolate laxative in order to have to go to the bathroom more often. Her income could be exponentially increased by increasing her fecal output. Not to mention all those orange-flavored fiber drinks that make the constipated a little looser.  And speaking of fiber, well, that’s bound to increase flatulence too, right? And if men like the sounds of poop and pee being expelled, surely they’d go over the top from the sound of a huge fart!

Imagine it! Women could even take classes to become better poopers for the recording devices they hold in their hands while letting loose. They could moan as though in distress or pain from the huge turd that’s trying to come out; or they could give sexy sighs whenever the pee is coming out. Women could be trained to never dread diarrhea again. They could charge top dollar.

Alas, what am I thinking? There is no reason for us to get our hopes up that the world will of itself evolve into that kind of utopia. It all begins with one man being bold enough to come out of the closet…or come out of the women’s restroom with his head held high.

Come out of the Closet (AND the correct bathroom, please!) part 3

Novelty urinals in a bar in Brighton. These ar...

Novelty urinals in a bar in Brighton. These are likely the Kisses! urinals by Dutch designer Meike van Schijndel. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

“Oh,” he said mechanically. Like that explained anything. “This always happens to me.” I raised a questioning eyebrow at that. “I was rushing so hard I didn’t even notice.” Yeah. Okay.

There was no denying it now, I had met my very first honest-to-goodness pervert. He was totally harmless and everything, but still it made you think: what kind of guy doesn’t want to BE a woman, nor wear women’s clothes, but just wants to hear and smell their farts and/or queefs?

So I’m thinking to myself: could I start a lucrative business making videos, or at least soundtracks for guys like that? What I mean is that I’m so NOT the police; I don’t care to monitor people’s sexual practices and preferences. However, I AM an enterprising sort of person, so if an honest dollar can be made, why not do it?

If more guys like him would be honest and in touch with themselves, they wouldn’t have to make up lame and insincere excuses when they are confronted. I think guys who like the sounds of women relieving themselves in the bathroom should just be able to come right out and say so. And who knows how that sort of honesty might bring a renewal of authenticity amongst all the earth’s inhabitants?

Not only that, but if a market like that opened up, so much money could be made, so many jobs could be generated that it’s mind-boggling to consider. Think about it. How many women do you know who not only take a dump once or twice a day, but also go pee at least once every couple of hours? Women all over the world from Botswana to Bolivia, from Perth to Prague. And that’s just women who are regular…

Come out of the Closet (AND the correct bathroom, please!) part 2

English: I photographed this picture from a pu...

English: I photographed this picture from a public restroom. It is a female symbol for the women’s restroom. I intend to use it on the toilet article to show the two commonly used male and female pictograms on public restrooms in the United States–Dark Tichondrias 08:02, 12 July 2006 (UTC) For variant version (more standard AIGA symbol), see Image:Toilet women.svg . (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I wish he hadn’t been so gorgeous, because then it wouldn’t have been so difficult to be disgusted with him and his fake look of surprise. But because of his amazing good looks I wanted to be noticed and I didn’t want him to see me as some overbearing anal-retentive stickler for rule-keeping. I mean, who made up the arbitrary rule anyway that men can’t use ladies’ restrooms and vice-versa. For all we know there may be scores of men who wish like crazy that women would frequent their urinals!

I managed a little giggle with my sexy little “oops.”

“Oh, sorry,” he said as we involuntarily collided, rushing in opposite directions.

I waited a millisecond for it to register in his head that it was totally NOT normal practice for a man and a woman to run into each other while the dude is coming out of the women’s bathroom. I flashed him a million-dollar grin, and batted my eyes to let him know that I was more than ready to accept that it must have been no less than fate that had brought us together this way. My smile was lost on him, and he seemed eager to go around me and get on about his business.

That’s when flashes of insight started crackling through my brain. I gave him a look that demanded an explanation. “Hey, did you notice anything?” I said sarcastically and pointing emphatically at the plain-as-day silhouette of a woman in a jumper-like dress on the door. And then I looked very pointedly at the silhouette on the opposite door behind us: a man in bifurcated clothing. I squinted my eyes at him, making them very beady indeed to see what on earth he was going to say.

Come out of the Closet (AND the correct bathroom, please!) part 1

Coming out of the closet

Coming out of the closet (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I personally believe that you should be comfortable with whoever you are, sexual preferences and all. I’m not so naïve as to imagine that we live in a perfect world where people make it particularly easy to be sexually…different; but still, let’s quit lying, first of all to ourselves.

Take for instance this amazingly cute guy I met in a bookstore. I know what  you’re thinking—only lame nerd-type guys frequent bookstores, and oddballs who are trying to pick up women somewhere besides at church and at the club. But don’t be so quick to jump to conclusions. Have I met any guys who actually read books? Okay, no; BUT I have seen a few in scenes on TV and I know that they exist. So I thought that perhaps I had just stumbled upon one in this particular book joint.

Now don’t go getting your panties twisted when I admit that I bumped into him as he was coming out of the women’s bathroom. Yes, yes I know NOW that it should have sent up the antennae of my internal radar that he was coming out of the women’s bathroom as though he had just used it. But that’s how I am, you know, always ready to help a guy out by making up excuses for him.

I wasn’t sure which shocked me more: the rich chocolaty color of his irises staring at me and the olive color of the skin of his just-washed hands…or the fact that he was exiting the ladies room just as I was attempting to go in.

Oh, Come Now! (No, really; I mean NOW!!) Part 7

Premarital Sex Saved Me

Premarital Sex Saved Me (Photo credit: signalstation)

I couldn’t resist checking online about the ejaculation disorder. And there it was as plain as day, making me feel even stupider than usual to discover that 3 in 10 men suffer in some degree from this. Like, WHO KNEW??

So, I really did have to admit that I was glad to know that the problem was not me. Because honestly, I felt weird and full of questions. Before I understood what was going on, I used to joke around with him, telling him playfully that he was going to kill me with all that doing it so long. He always pretended that he wanted to hold off for 45 minutes. Yeah, okay.

Shallow or not, I really couldn’t take anymore sex with this guy and ended up calling off the marriage, principally for his dishonesty and inability to admit that there was a problem. I wish him well with whomever he ends up marrying and I can only hope that he won’t lie to her like he did to me.  But he probably will.

I used to feel rather frustrated about the possibility and likelihood of ending up til-death-do-us-part with a guy who would never be able to sexually satisfy me. I decided to stop being frustrated and go ahead and test the waters before jumping the broom with anyone. I was a little apprehensive about that decision, knowing that in spite of my really cool relationship with God and everything that my beliefs left me somewhat outside of mainstream practice of Christianity. But after the fiasco with Tony, my determination became based on outright conviction. Sex is a must with a potential marriage partner, period. Anything else is just too damned risky.

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Oh, Come Now! (No, really; I mean NOW!!) -part 6

Marriage in America in 2010

Marriage in America in 2010 (Photo credit: GEEKSTATS)

I couldn’t resist checking online about the ejaculation disorder. And there it was as plain as day, making me feel even stupider than usual to discover that 3 in 10 men suffer in some degree from this. Like, WHO KNEW??

So, I really did have to admit that I was glad to know that the problem was not me. Because honestly, I felt weird and full of questions. Before I understood what was going on, I used to joke around with him, telling him playfully that he was going to kill me with all that doing it so long. He always pretended that he wanted to hold off for 45 minutes. Yeah, okay.

Shallow or not, I really couldn’t take anymore sex with this guy and ended up calling off the marriage, principally for his dishonesty and inability to admit that there was a problem. I wish him well with whomever he ends up marrying and I can only hope that he won’t lie to her like he did to me.  But he probably will.

I used to feel rather frustrated about the possibility and likelihood of ending up til-death-do-us-part with a guy who would never be able to sexually satisfy me. I decided to stop being frustrated and go ahead and test the waters before jumping the broom with anyone. I was a little apprehensive about that decision, knowing that in spite of my really cool relationship with God and everything that my beliefs left me somewhat outside of mainstream practice of Christianity. But after the fiasco with Tony, my determination became based on outright conviction. Sex is a must with a potential marriage partner, period. Anything else is just too damned risky.