Men Are From Mars

Today started out as simply as any other. Woke up (grudgingly), got the kids off to school with only a small amount of bitching and arguing, and indulged in one of the simple pleasures in life and probably the highlight of my morning: instant store brand coffee with hazelnut creamer and a marlboro light. As I eased my nicotine craving and sipped my caffeine fix, I thought back fondly on the early days of mine and my husband's relationshit (that was a typo, but I'm leaving it cuz I think I'm on to something there). Coincidentally, I was also thinking about getting laid, and was taking a mental tally in my head of all the freak-nasty shit we've done over the years, seeing if we've left anything out that's illegal in at least a few states.

The problem with me is that I get pretty bipolar from time to time. Just like that I went from singing "Ode to My Husband's Cock" praises in my head, to "Fuck Him and All the Stupid Shit He's Ever Said and Done, and No I Don't Want Any Dick From You Jerk". And it's not just him. I got to thinking about several instances which actually gave some validity to that book about men and women and Mars and whatnot.

Like the other night for instance.

Apparently, on the planet Mars, women are cunts. Literally. And by literally I mean there must be giant pussies with no other body parts attached just floating around speechless and without cause or destination. When Martian men have the need, they just waltz up and insert cock into cunt, and have a blast. Do not pass "Go", do not collect $200.00. Thank you, drive through.

Another problem with me and many other women is that instances like this one prompt me to think of every other stupid, dumb-assed sexual occurence I have ever had.

Have you ever been having sex with a guy, and for whatever reason, he has disengaged from your vagina and then tries to stick it back in...YOUR ASS. Didn't give you any warning or indication that that's where this whole thing was headed, just starts probing around your butthole like a wild boar digging for truffles. Then if you object or question what's going on he has the nerve to act like it was an accident. Like he can't tell the difference between an asshole and a vagina. Bullshit. The fucked up part is then you start to wonder if he really couldn't tell....MAYBE you have a loose asshole, and he really couldn't tell. No, he just thinks he's sneaky and I'm stupid. But that didn't stop me from checking the patency and tightness of my butthole with my finger in the shower, just in case. NOW who's fucked up?

Martians have a direct tube from brain to mouth. There is no filtering process. Men always wonder how women know what they are thinking. Because if you were thinking it, it probably just fell right out of your mouth. Case in point: "I like fucking you". Umm...Ok. That's pretty cool. It's good to know that I've had sex with you about 4,000 times and you enjoyed it. I would feel pretty stupid about the other 3,999 times if you didn't. Then we have this diarrhea of the mouth: "Your clit is huge".

Hold the phone. What the FUCK is that supposed to mean?

Here's the great part about this. Apparently, that was meant to be a compliment. The explanation? "I just mean that when you get really turned on, ya know, it's like, big..." Ohhh....no shit. Remember that Adam Sandler album where he says his neighbor's dog has a 4-inch clit in that fake Mexican accent? That's all I could think of. Guys, for those of you that don't already know, no woman likes to be told that anything on her body is big, unless you're talking about her tits. Unless they're really small, then I guess that would be kind of mean and sarcastic.

I just thought of another situation that sometimes ends up pretty awkward and stupid. I love dirty talk. Especially when you're fucking like wild dogs in heat. It's awesome. But then sometimes your guy pulls the "repeat after me" thing. Uh-oh. You know where this is going, you just hope it never arrives. Yet it always does. "Tell me you love Daddy's dick..." Ewww. You just can't help that mentally you are torn between throwing up and laughing until you piss yourself. But you choke it back and cleverly find a detour like, "Yeah, Baby....I love it". The last thing I want to envision when I've had way too much tequila, my legs are in the air, and I'm getting pounded like the coast of Florida during hurricane season is Daddy. Sorry.

Why do men never lose fascination with their genitals? I mean, just about every long term relationship I have been in includes watching my significant other become the David Copperfield of Dick or the Cock Contortionist. I have seen cock used for amusement purposes for just about everything from a towel rack to a microphone. My husband likes to see how many books he can stack on his erect penis. Regrettably enough, I have been deprived of this trait with my own genitals. I suppose I just don't think it would be that much fun to have a contest with my girlfriends to see how many raisinettes I could pack in my pussy or if I could pick up a Q-tip with my ass cheeks.

I guess it is kind of funny, in a Ron Jeremy sort of way. You know how he's so fucking disgusting but you can't tear your eyes off of the man's dick in action? I suppose that's how I generally feel about male-types. Bipolar Disorder again. Think I'll go buy some raisinettes and give "Daddy" some butt tonight after all.