I know. I did it to you again. I took a hiatus. I’ll fill you in on what the hell I’ve been doing in another post. BUT…while I was away…I see what YOU’VE been doing. You’ve been being an Internet Douche. On The Twidda, on Facebook, and especially on the Douche Tool De Jour: Instagram. And I don’t like it. Not. One. Bit.

So I want you to raise your kissy-face-picture-taking hand and take this pledge. Say it out loud, say it strong and proud!

1) I will stop doing single-outfit-bedroom/bathroom-sink-photoshoots for Facebook/Instagram/Twitter, etc. I realize that ten pics of me wearing the same clothes, at the same dirty sink, with the same face and only slightly different “eyebrow faces” are not believable as “random candids”, no matter what insightful hipster captions I may write beneath them.  I understand that I look desperate for attention, vain, or both.

Instagram Douche Example

2) In 2012, I will cease to use the terms “zoo” or “movie” to refer to an evening of hoodrat shit with my friends.  I understand that popping a few 40s and doing our best “thug poses” for the camera wouldn’t qualify for those terms at any rate, and under no circumstances will I use the nonsensical word “zoovie”. My Ciroc fantasies  are simply not that epic. I hereby throw “zoo”, “movie”, and “zoovie” in the trash…and toss “swagu” in with it. If something’s dripping from me, it’s most likely not a slang pasta sauce derivative.

3a) Ladies:  This year, I will find a new pose. I acknowledge that the skeptical half-mouth trout pout only makes me look like a sarcastic fish. I realize this isn’t attractive, let alone to be done in all my pictures.

Sarcastic Trout - requisite middle finger included...

3b) Guys: This year, I’m retiring the strange “point-at-dude-next-to-me” pose.  It’s not clear to me that two guys, standing side by side pointing at each other is…well…pointless. Ditto this for the sunglasses in the club poses and the 6-dudes-smiling-with-one-bottle pics.

4) I will stop bragging about my drink choices, especially if they came from rhyme-necessitated phrasing in urban music. I further understand that “Marvin Gaye and Chardonnay” is not a drink. Unlike a “Bartles and James”, I cannot buy a six-pack at 7-11 and bring it somewhere.

and finally…

5) I vow to learn the difference between “slander” and “libel” by reading their definitions somewhere other than Twitter.

Actually, let me help you with that last one:

slander: Law . defamation by oral utterance rather than by writing,pictures, etc.

libel:  Law . a. defamation by written or printed words, pictures, or in any form other than by spoken words or gestures.

b. the act or crime of publishing it.

Meh…what am I saying…You read me, but you ain’t HEAR me though… {See what I did there? }

*Photo edits courtesy C.J. Figgs because I’m lazy as hell today…

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…there’d be a lot of conditions  and points to consider. A LOT. Like, you just might not wanna bother trying to ever convince me. Trimming a lawn with dental floss might be a more inviting task.

Seems to me that a threesome is the top glamorized, sexed up fantasy wishlist item for every man out there, whether he admits it or not. But I have an answer for everything. Every. Damn. Thing. My works of reason will suck the joy out of flying kites and eating cotton candy if you let me.  And since I’ve been asked, to the same final NO each time, I’ve had time to do my research and perfect my arguments. Feel free to borrow them and use to negotiate or negate. I won’t judge you!

These would be my terms:

1) Number Three cannot be another dude.
I think this one is pretty obvious, but that down low ish will catch you sleeping if you let it.  Who are these women who are cool with that much meat coming at them at once? And who are these guys who agree to it? Crossed swords just sound awkward for everyone involved. If I were to see that, I’d look askance at my man every time he undressed. I can only imagine how my  man might feel. YUCK.

2) We need to agree on taste in women. I get final approval.
She can’t be everything your overweight-midget-with-a-limp-porn fantasies demand and leave me with this face: O-O I don’t care what I agreed to, I’m leaving. And since this activity is to fulfill something you want, I don’t think making sure she’s not a The Hills Have Eyes reject is a small request.

3) She cannot be someone already known to you.
If you come up so handily with “Geeee, I just happen to have a friend…”, that tells me you scoped her out before we had this conversation, perhaps even for other reasons of your own.  Sorry, but we can’t use that one last heaux you meant to fuck but didn’t get around to number you took in the club before we got together.  We’re also not using your freaky ex. She is NOT rocking with you tonight for old time’s sake. Reminisce booty? Not on my watch, Bub.

4) We have to agree on how to find her.
We live in the internet age, but is this something you really want to take an ad out for? How does a couple go about finding a third in a safe way, without sounding like a Bonnie & Clyde/Kidnap You For Prostitution Ring scam? Craigslist is skeevy. We’re talking about inviting someone into our bed, not asking them to come take our leftover sofa for $20. I don’t want those used cushions. Thanks. O_o

Other options include hitting up a swinger’s club (I’d go, but just for shits and giggles with my partner), befriending a stripper and talking her into it, hiring a professional, bar hopping and hunting together… so many choices and none sound appealing to me. I guess the best one is bar hopping and hunting together. Takes away the ability to pre-plan it, as you never know when/if you’ll find her, but it’s a way to make sure everyone’s on the same page and do the deed before anyone can think about it too much.  SIDENOTE: I don’t know the best way, and you shouldn’t know and be too eager with the suggestions here either, Buddy. BE. EASY.

5) I don’t want to have to see her ever again. Anywhere.
Running into her after the act, by accident, in a normal course of daily life, would be less than ideal. We can’t choose someone we might see at the grocery store, someone only twice removed from our social circle, or connected too closely to our daily lives. She’s not auditioning to be a new BFF to either of us. She’s disposable. (Sorry to all you ladies that have been 3s, out there reading this. Truth hurts.) In that spirit, sub-rule 5 is that neither of us can contact her solo. If we both reach out, that’s fine, assuming it has  been mutually agreed upon. I mean, maybe it’ll be a good night afterall! Hey! Who knows! Freak how ya wanna freak! But neither of us can make contact without the other being privy and part of it.

6) I don’t have to tell you what I’m NOT doing with Number Three, do I?!  DO I?!?!
Okay good. Because that shit’s not even happening on your birthday, on Christmas Day, Canada Day, Doris Day, the day you won the lottery…NO. I. WON’T.  ::straightens hair and ditches the crazy eye:: That said, ladies, agree on limits with your partner so as to manage expectations for everyone involved. *cough*

Overall, all these conditions are rooted to one thing for me: trust. It’s a major factor. We’ve all seen the threesome-gone-wrong movies. What if she’s crazy and and wants me for herself? Oh, yeah…I mean…or you…yeah…you all for herself.

For this reason, some say it’s something to do with a person you’re not emotionally connected to or invested in, making it more an activity to be had with a jump-off or a fling.

I disagree. Flings and jump-offs owe you nothing and discretion is a fading art form.  I couldn’t even see this scenario with someone I couldn’t truly trust. I’m a firm believer that in a real relationship, you should be willing to “go there” with your partner and try new things at least once in an environment where you can be free, safe, and comfortable.  If anyone IS uncomfortable, you never have to do it again. No judgement. No fear. Just safe exploration between two consenting adults. Right? Yeah. In a perfect world anyway.  But why not increase the odds of a good outcome? I can’t imagine THIS much freedom or comfort with a transient.

Lots to think about before agreeing, and some of these aren’t so easy to consider, but they usually ended the conversation where it stood. Imagine having a dusty, 2 inch thick, bound agreement thrust at you at the mere mention of “menage”. Yep. That’s the effect these rules have.  A threesome could be a great night to remember and repeat or the worst moment of your relationship. Don’t take it too lightly in the name of a porn .

Whew! Thank God I’ll never have to worry about any of this because I’m not the type to have a threesome…but if I waaaaas…

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“If you have to announce that you’re shutting the fuck up, then you’ve completely missed the point of shutting the fuck up.”

- My Lawyer to Me, early 2011

The nerve, right?! I mean, how dare he!  And the worst part? He’s right.

Absolutely correct. Shutting the fuck up, and knowing when it’s time to, is something you just DO, you don’t further discuss.

But I didn’t always see it that way. Quite frankly, a lot of women don’t…till we have reason to…and then it just might be too late.

Let’s flashback to 2005. I had undergone a pretty bad break-up when my mother said to me, “Eva, he wasn’t strong enough for you anyway. You won every disagreement. You need someone who can tell you to shut the fuck up.” (Yes, that’s what my mother said it me. My lawyer, my mother…people are gonna need to learn some damn respect round these parts!  SMH…)

I railed, “WHAT?! If a man told me to shut the fuck up blah blah blah…”

She clarified, “No, that’s not what I literally meant. A man who loves you won’t talk to you that way and I know you wouldn’t take it. I mean you need a man that when you bark like a big dog, he barks back loud enough to turn your big bark into a little YIPE…and you respect him enough to actually stop and SHUT THE FUCK UP. He also needs to know when to just tune your ass out.“

O_O Ohhhhhhhhh…

See, now she had a point. And I agreed with it. If I don’t respect you, I’m very likely to steamroll you. It won’t be on purpose, and I might even be very sorry afterward. But once I’ve steamrolled you, there’s no turning back.  Respect is key. ::shrugs::

That respect factor ties in to two other issues:

1) Let’s say we have a problem to solve. I don’t care who owns the best idea, so long as it’s the one we go with. Do I have faith that you know what you’re talking about and are correct? Or do I think you’re spouting off to seem like you do, at my cost or whoever else’s cost? Is your ego the first priority and everyone else collateral damage? If I’m just going to have to come behind you and do it over anyway, I’ll just show you why you’re wrong now. If your idea is better, show me by doing it right. You’re not automatically right just because you say you are and have a penis. (Sidenote: proper use of said penis might, however, buy my silence as I go do this task over. Oh, I’ll grumble about it, but not loud enough for you to hear. Quid pro quo… See also: dickmatization.)

2) The “Ah-HA!” moment of being right is powerful stuff – especially when you’re on the “Oh! I Was Wrong” end of it.  It can be diminishing for a man to be wrong on a subject his lady really does know more about.  It’s a delicate moment that can go horribly awry if he decides to grandstand and try to look right on principle. Yes, those guys DO exist. I dated one once. He was wrong… A LOT. So, I told him…A LOT! In front of whoever was around…which only made it worse.  But my whole thing is, if you were wrong and insist you’re right, past the point of logic, and as a show, then you put your own huevos in my grinder.  As eager as you are to be right, is as quickly as I’m pulling up the Wikipedia page to show you how wrong you are. Matter of fact, let’s pass this bitch around, shall we?!

Further, if indeed I DO issue a pass and decide to shut the fuck up, my man has to be aware that just because I didn’t say anything, doesn’t mean I didn’t see anything. Gentlemen, we keep a lot to ourselves sometimes in the name of peace. Don’t take that for granted. Not every getaway is clean, and all shut eye is not asleep.

So you see, this shutting-the-fuck-up business is very tricky stuff.  Sometimes, the “Ah-HA!” moment” isn’t worth it. Sometimes, it’s easier to just do the task yourself. Sometimes, a man should just know better than to try me that day.

But overall, it’s about picking your battles and not crossing swords every single time you can. You may have reason to, and be completely correct, but will the benefit of being right outweigh to potential damage done to attain the win? ::shrugs:: Nope.  All in all, that’s the lesson it took me time to learn: battle selection.  I probably owe an ex or two an apology for pointing out their obvious stupidity belaboring a point or three.

You get the point. I’ll just shut the fuck up now.

Oh! Dammit, maaaaaann! I’ll never get the hang of this…

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...Angry Sex…And Other Things* I Don’t Understand, By Eva
::bows and opens theater curtains::

Girlfriend on argument with live-in boyfriend: “He’s trippin. ::tears:: We haven’t spoken in 2 days. I’m so mad about XYZ. ::snot-filled breath:: I don’t know what’s gonna happen with us. I even slept on the couch.”

She then drops the deets about the angry sex they had in the kitchen a few hours before that.

Me: “Girl…get out my ear. I have work to do.”

I don’t get it. Angry sex, that is. Now, I can hear some of you already, saying I’m nuts and it’s some great lovin’ and I don’t know what I’m missing blah blah blah blah blah…  But here’s my point of view.

Let’s say my partner and I have an argument. I’m not a big proponent of going to bed mad. On the few occasions when I have done so, I tossed and turned and woke up feeling terrible about whatever he and I were quibbling over. I’ve even dreamed about the rift! It’s like personal punishment on TOP of the disagreement! In the past, it’s even been enough to send me right into his arms with an “I hate that we argued – let’s just let it go.” I can’t hang. I’m not built for all that.  We’re gonna talk this out here and now, because if it goes much longer, I’m gonna be pissed that it did, on TOP of whatever already had us pissed to begin with. And if it’s truly a serious, multi-day matter, then we deal with it till it’s done. That’s how I solve mess.

What I don’t do though, is stop mid-argument and give you some pissed-off pussy. I just can’t! Shit, that doesn’t even sound appealing! (Say it out loud: “pissed-off pussy”! YUCK!) If we’re arguing, and it’s truly a matter that has us disagreeing, I’m not trying to give you an all access pass to Disneyland cloud the matter with physical intimacy. If I’m mad at you, I’m mad at your penis too. Don’t touch me. There either. It’s a little too up-close and personal if we’re beefing, in the most personal of ways.

::side-eye:: I heard that! Yes, it IS still personal, even if she’s bent over the side of… uhh…nevermind.

Now, yes, some may say that that is using sex as a weapon. I disagree. For me, I feel like being intimate mid-argument diminishes whatever emotional or factual point I had to begin with.  In life, you’ve seen people say before a debate or public speaking engagement that “picturing the crown/opponent nude will put you at ease” only half as a joke. The theory is that it’ll make the speaker take the crowd less seriously, thereby making the speaker less nervous to face them. No thanks.  I’d like you to remain just as nervous to face me as whatever the situation demands. Take me and this pussy seriously, dammit.

I also think that men and women process sex differently in a relationship. Sometimes, sex wipes out whatever else is going on. I’m generally an easy-going person, with relationships that aren’t normally spat-filled. If I feel strongly enough to bring it to conflict, I’m not risking it being disregarded over some ass. I actually have heard guy friends say “I hit – how mad can she be?” Sir… ::lowers glasses:: SIR!  I have batteries handy, thanks.

To illustrate just how awkward angry sex seems to me, I wanted to show you the leg-scissors scene from the 1989 classic “War of the Roses”, but can’t find a clip anywhere. Here’s the next best thing. Picture sex, in the middle of the following exchange.

I don’t know, but “angry peen” doesn’t sound appealing to me. I’m literally being stabbed with it! Am I alone? Ladies? Angry sex? What say you?

*There’s actually no other things. It just sounded cuter that way. =)

UPDATE: Found it! Just don’t listen with the sound on. I think it’s in Russian. Hilarious sounds, but NSFW because it sounds like a porno.

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