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Archive for the month “October, 2011”

If I Were A Boy (and Took You to This Restaurant) I’d Expect Sexcess Too

Photo credit: Pixomar/Freedigitalphotos.net

I had a fantastic dinner with two girlfriends last night.

What were we doing? Celebrating my friend’s 30th birthday (how fitting for this blog right), it’s on Halloween, but we were celebrating early. Besides, it was a Friday night and she was able to get a babysitter. We had to get in where we fit in. 

We sat down in the cozy, plush booths and were serenaded by a sassy lounge singer dressed as a witch accompanied by a skillful acoustic guitarist.

Glasses of wine were had, followed by the most decadent meal I’ve had in a long time (this is even despite being on a Master Cleanse only a week earlier and just being happy to eat solid food again). We had crabcakes, sweet potatoes, bruschetto, the most air-whipped, glorious mashed potatoes. The birthday girl, after some coaxing, tried for the first time, fried skate wing fish.

We asked the waiter what kind of fish it was and he explained it was in the sting ray family. I encouraged my friend to order it and she was on the fence, but decided to do it because she said this year, she wanted to do 30 things she’s never done before, and why not kick it off with eating the “sting ray’s cousin” as our other friend pointed out.

That friend was harder to convince. She joked, “Didn’t Steve Irwin get killed by a sting ray? If you eat this you may not make it to 30.”  Maybe she was less enthused because it was because she just turned 29 last month and the prospect of 30 hasn’t hit her yet, but next year, this time, she’ll probably see things differently (tee hee). I’m about to be 30 in February, so I was more on the try it, try it, you are 30 tip. Besides, I knew eating the sting ray for the big 30 would make a great blog. I wanted to see how this would play out! The birthday girl went for it and it was actually pretty darn tasty. The cynic of the group even agreed it was pretty good. I believe we are all still alive.  

But let’s get to the real point of this blog. During our discussion, we saw various people on dates, some of which left within a few minutes (we presume the men weren’t willing to pay the prices or either they didn’t like what was on the menu, but my assumption is the former, not the latter.).

A little tipsy, we called out to the prematurely exiting couples between bites and sips, “It’s worth it, she’ll totally give you some after eating this!!!”

I’d like to think of myself as a progressive woman. I’m not a feminist by any means. I believe in women empowering themselves and knowing how to be independent– but not to the detriment of growing a healthy relationship with a man by trying to be superwoman or not letting him be “a man.”

When women learn how to balance those things and realize they can’t be a man or do things the way men do it and embrace that and embrace the things we do that men just totally can’t, we’d really get somewhere…but that’s ANOTHER topic. I’ma leave that one alone.

As we ate, we all agreed that if a man took us to this comfy, cozy, sexy place on a cold, rainy night like this, with this amazing, tasty food, we would probably give him A-grade sex once we got home and probably head on the way home in the car. Real talk. 

Some people will argue that our p-value is more than a meal. It is. Mine is priceless. That’s not the point. Then some people will argue what’s the difference between a woman who gives it up for Olive Garden in comparison to a swanky joint like the one we went to and definitively declare that it’s still trickin for a meal. Those people have a point, I won’t disagree. But when a man you are dating puts in an effort like that (and you actually like him and have an attraction) and the food is that good (The sense of taste and smell is super powerful, don’t sleep. Those senses are probably the most erotic next to touch), it’s not even so much the amount of money he spent, but it’s how that amazing food made you feel and the atmosphere. Now, that’s what I call a recipie for sexcess!

We all agreed the food and the wine made us feel sexy. I’m quite sure my one friend, who is attached, went home and gave her man the business. We all also agreed that if we were men, and we took women here, we probably would want to get some lovin afterwards too. Not so much as a show of gratitude for the amount of money that was spent, but for the sheer fact that a good atmosphere and great food is indeed an aphrodesiac.

So in my opinion, the men who pay for outstanding dinners aren’t necessarily paying for sex. One, they want to enjoy their food too, and it feels great to be able to take someone you really like out for a nice meal. In addition, the food is doing something in a subtle way  like pre-foreplay. They are setting up the kill early on and skillfully. This meal is creating a mood that will usher a woman into wanting to have sex and leading to that decision on her own.

So yep. That was a panty-dropping meal, and I’m not ashamed to say it. Play on, playas.

 

The Master Cleanse and Why It’s Not (just) a Bunch Crap (literally)

courtesy of freedigitalphotos.net

So, as I head into 30, I decided there’s some ish I need to leave behind.

I’ve been through ups and downs emotionally and professionally this year and that is sure to continue as long as I’m breathing, but how I handle these ups and downs is something I’ve been examining lately.

A friend mentioned doing the Master Cleanse together because we both have been complaining about lacking direction in life, being fustrated with men and being tired of being sick and tired. I thought about it, and honestly deciding not to eat for 7 days actually did appeal to me.

I grew up in a religious household where it was not unusual for my parents to participate in the most strict of fasts. No food, no liquids for three days. You had no choice but to depend on God and your ears were wide open to listen to what He had to say.

The Master Cleanse had a number of purposes, I could do a modified version of the spiritual fast my parents did, but for longer and still be functional for work. The other reason besides wanting to show God I’m serious about getting focused on whatever is to come my way in the next year, I won’t front. Finding out you can drop a few pounds does make it even more appealing.

I thought the people I watched in youtube videos were trippin on the first day. Please watch my favorite Master Cleanse person, Heavenlee315! She is so inspirational. I’d totally hang out with her. As time went on in their 7, 10, 14, 20 and even 30+ days of drinking a lemonade, water, maple syrup and cayenne pepper concoction, they all reported feeling pretty good despite not having even a morsel of food. (Surely, I thought they were full of it… which they were… full of toxins and crap which the master cleanse helps you get rid of.)

Well, for the most part, they were right. I didn’t wake up feeling groggy like I normally do, nor did I feel the urge to stay in bed “five more minutes.” It was shocking. I felt refreshed.

I did realize how much I depended on food to make me feel better. If things went bad, I ate. If things went well, I ate.

The second day it was like my body knew the times it usually ate and was saying, “Hold up! What are you doing? Feed me!” I said no. And kept drinking my water and my lemonade. By the third day, when those times like lunchtime and dinner came around, my body got over it.

Another thing I realized in terms of food and food dependency is, there’s a whole lot of food commercials on TV. I think even if you don’t really want to eat, the mad men on Madison Ave. really convince you through all those commericials that you should be stuffing your face. All. The. Time. Once again, my body had a trigger for when I was on the couch and watching TV that I should be snacking or having my dinner. So, realizing my habits, I have decided to eat my meals at my table no matter what and if I snack, not to do it on the couch. Maybe have a small serving at the kitchen counter instead of bringing a whole bag of chips to the couch with me.

Stay tuned for more of my insights on the Master Cleanse because I’m learning a lot about myself and have come to a number of conclusions about who I am, what I’m doing and where I’m trying to be.

The Worst Thing a Grown A$$ Woman Could Have Said About Her

Scott Chan/freedigitalphotos.net

Not sure if it’s just me, but as I get older I’ve decided you can call me whatever negative thing you want.

 
I just don’t EVER want anyone to say I’m nasty (unkept physical appearance) or my home is nasty.
 
I’m rather paranoid about it especially when I know I’ll be entertaining. Even when I’m positive things are clean, I have a tendency to worry someone will see something I missed and they will talk behind my back about it and it will be seared in their brain that I am nasty.  
 
Sometimes I have a tendency to be a clutter bug. I have a lot of books and magazines and papers and old mail that I admit I let pile up. Then on a Saturday, I get to work getting rid of while old episodes of Sex and the City run in the background. I have a lot of clothes and shoes, so as the work week goes on and as I undress when i get home, sometimes things don’t make the hamper.
 
The two h’s are paramount if you consider yourself grown. Hygeine and Home.
 
My mother started my paranoia about personal hygine from day one. She stayed on my sister and me about being clean.
 
“You are young ladies. Young ladies have to keep themselves clean. Even if you are homeless and in the street, you need to find a way to wash your armpits and between your legs.”
 
My mother also coined a phrase for neck dirt probably meaning “moldly” but pronounced as “moley”.
“Come here, you better not have no moley neck,” she’d say while lifting up my hair and scrubbing me raw and red as a child.
 
There is nothing more embarassing than not being prepared for company (which I honestly don’t have a lot of) or visiting someone who wasn’t prepared for company. I have been on both ends of that coin and it’s just straight awkward. For both the guest and host. Sure, folks will say “please excuse my home, I haven’t been able to clean this week,” but in the back of the other person’s mind a judgement is being formed. Like “itch please, your bathroom floor hasn’t seen a mop since before you moved in.”  
 
Another woman besides my mother taught me the value of a clean home. My aunt. She was the model for always having her home company ready. So much so, she’d vaccum when her guests were still sitting on the couch. Usually folks knew the drill and would just lift up their feet and keep the discussion going. My cousin (her son) joked at her funeral that she is probably vaccuming a floor in Heaven right now.
 
But as I get older, I get her point even more and have resolved to do better in my own home. Whether she lived in a small apartment or a three bedroom house. Her home was a point of pride. Cancer or not, she wasn’t having it and despite us telling her to rest, she just couldn’t until she knew things were straight, her way, up until the end.
 
I can’t tell you how many conversations I’ve had with male friends who said they thought they met a cool, fine sexy woman, but things changed when they found out she didn’t keep a clean home. It just killed the mood. Mind you, these gals didn’t have to have a home straight out of Elle Decor, but it certainly needed to be clean.

Now if personal pride isn’t motivation enough for a grown woman to keep her home tidy, nabbing Mr. Right should make you want to start wearing Pine Sol as perfume. Hmm, that kills both the home and hygine birds with one stone.

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