***Warning. Mature, graphic sexual content. Stop now if you get offended easily.
When you really love people, even if you do for them something you didn’t feel like doing, you know you’ll feel worse if you don’t do it for them anyway, your feelings, time, money, lack of energy be damned.
And when you do it, you are actually glad you pushed through to make the person you love happy and your relationship lives to see another day.
It’s really quite simple. It’s the theory of reciprocity is the foundation of truly loving someone and being an active participant in a relationship.
Nothing is free.
People, with the exception of babies, do have to earn your love and the perks that come with it.
Even as a child grows and learns to share, show and give love, parents are getting a return on their investment too.
If this person loves you just as much as you love them, you can think of a million moments where they were in the same position and dug deep for you and in my opinion, that, more than just the warm, fuzzy, feeling we confuse as love is what propels us to fight the urge to be lazy, selfish bastards and give that person what it is they desire.
So I have all kinds of problems with people who have no real history with me making demands, or asking me to change myself or straight up asking me for anything or expecting anything, or having critiques about me.
Expect nothing, appreciate everything.
I was placed in a very uncomfortable position this morning and via text, of all places. I should have woken up to a “good morning beautiful text.”
Instead I was told I’d get more head if I went completely bald.
If you’ve been with me on this blog for a long time, you know how I feel about shaving and men coming out of their faces making demands on how I maintain my yard. https://29tolife.wordpress.com/2012/08/23/tmi-alert-a-hairy-situation/
I took a deep breath and shared my views and how like a box of chocolates, hey, depending on how I’m feeling you never know what you’re going to get.
I don’t want anyone to choke on a hairball, but to hold my pleasure hostage and impede one of the most successful methods of getting me off, because you want me to look like a porn star, or six-year-old, or six-year-old porn star, I got beef.
All I ask is that you keep yours clean and wash your balls and under your balls.
This expectation of women makes me angry. And when you tell me what to do with my nether regions, I feel like it’s an omen of things to come. I feel like there’s some control stuff going on and you want to see how much I bend to what you want.
Fortunately, I know better. I’ve had men in my life who loved it any way I served it up.
One even liked it after I worked out, because the sweat turned him on.
So having enough confidence in myself this time has made me speak up and set the record straight.
Some women might say, hey, it’s not that big of a deal. You want the guy to eat you out right? He wants to eat you out? He’s successful, and wants to do it. Do your part so he wants to continue to do it. Take the L. Someone else will keep it bald and buff it everyday to have a man like that.
And that’s a valid point.
I just don’t appreciate the double standard. Maybe some days I don’t want to squirm in my seat at my desk because of the coarse, prickly hairs growing in that I can’t scratch in public. I’m sure they will frown upon me putting a back scratcher in my pants. Someone will be offended.
Thing is, I’m not anti grooming down there. I’m not.
I’m particularly pissed at his specificity to the matter. And I’m livid at having to read this shit at 7 a.m. ( Here’s some context. This all started from a conversation last night about me baking pies, and him asking if I want him to eat my pie again…)
He said bald.
So with that in my mind, he acknowledged that I had maintenance going on down there and that he wasn’t picking hairs out of his teeth, but in order for me to enjoy his services more regularly, I had to go all the way.
I said what I had to say honestly and then I left it at that.
But I was fuming for most of the morning, including now.
We are supposed to go see a movie tomorrow night. But I’m feeling some kind of way. Am I being unrealistic and immature? Or do I have the right to feel comfortable sexually?
That’s a no-brainer. I want to feel comfortable.
And maybe he isn’t the one. Maybe for just the right one, I’d get a Brazilian every day. I doubt it, because I feel the right one is going to love me, and my puss no matter what kind of hairstyle she’s rocking that week.
I ranted to a close male friend and he confirmed that I was right.
But now this has me thinking, what may not be a big deal to other people is a big deal to me. Every time I’ve tried to please other people who did not go out of their way to sincerely please me, left bitter, awful tastes in my mouth that spread resentment all over my body like an aggressive virus.
So instead of questioning my ability to love, my capacity for giving and my aptitude for submission to a future husband, I’m going to be selfish for a moment and be a grown woman for once and say, “I want what I want. Someone is going to give me that.”
I’ve also decided that people who really love you and know what you like, love and totally hate, they simply won’t ask you to do something they know you don’t like. They wouldn’t want to put you through that much of an inconvenience.
At least that’s how I feel and that’s how I treat the ones I love.