In the past, I have written blogs about what men will NEVER understand about women no matter how much time they spend with them, around them, married to them, raised by them. There are some things that I suppose will always remain an enigma to them about us womenfolk.
I’m not sure I buy into this different planets bullshit, because then i’d have to admit that Tom Cruise is partially right, and no way in hell am I doing THAT wacky shit- but we’re definitely different, other than what things we have hanging off of us. Fact of life we just have to accept as vagina toting bags-o-hormone.
|By two heads, we all know
this is not what I meant
What about men, though? Are they really SO complicated to figure out? I know that ball-breaking dude-bashers like to claim men are ‘simple-minded’, uncomplicated, have two heads but think with one- and I don’t necessarily buy into that either… because us straight ladies marry dudes, and that would make us equally as simple to vow our lives to a creature that dense. Either that or we’re all control freaks… but I refuse to believe that either.
If they were so simple, we wouldn’t have so many DUDE problems and spend so many school dances crying in bathrooms. Am I right, or am I right?
We may still have the leg up on seeming complicated to the opposite gender, but there are some things, that no matter how much time I spend around men, married to them, or raised by one, or raising them- I will never understand.
Why are balls so itchy? What is the extreme fascination with boobs (Don’t get me wrong, I like boobs, but there’s a fine line between admiration and obsession)? How can you possibly have that much air in your intestines to push out of your ass? Seriously, that can’t be healthy.
I’m not searching for the meaning of life via testicles here, people. My questions, as most women’s questions of men who are no longer trying to DATE men, are relatively simple.
Honestly, that’s it. Everything else I ever wondered in the past, I either forgot about, or just don’t care anymore since i’m married and really don’t need to figure the shit out in order to work in my benefit any longer. Mystery solved itself, gotta love that!
The one itchy burny “you might want to get an ointment for that” type of question I still have might seem like somewhat of a backwards one, but being the totally out-there, has no shame type of lady, I run into it a lot, and it doesn’t really ever make more sense to me than it did while I was still trying to snag a dude from the dating pool- and that question is:
WHY do dudes get icked out by ladies’ bodily functions?
We may be the “fairer sex”, or so i’m told by old standards and our less hardened exterior and round features. We may be able to wear dresses in public without funny looks- but damnit- we are HUMAN. Sure, we have a vagina that can widen to a girth you really don’t even want to know- but just like men, we have noses that make boogers, lungs that capture air and produce gigantic belches, and assholes with intestines attached that make poop.
YES, WE POOP. Why is this such a big deal?
And even once the dudes get past the fact that women DO indeed take shits and pass gas (even if never in their presence), there is childbirth. Ohhhh the beauty of nature that is childbirth! It is a wonderful natural experience that brings life to this planet! JOYOUS DAY!
Well, if you don’t want to make a dude cringe right the fuck out of his skin, you’d better stop there. Add any realism to that little love story and they lose their shit. A total full bodied case of the Heebies.
Men can go to see movies where there is graphic amounts of violence- heads being chopped clean off, or slowly sawed off. Blood gushing and squirting. A movie about people being stitched to each others asses and pooping through each other, and they also find movies where dudes shit all over themselves and the lobbies of hotels downright knee-slapping hilarious- ALL OF THIS IN THREE-FUCKING-DEE- but a woman mentions after-birth pooping or even vaguely refer to how veiny a placenta is, and suddenly you’ve “crossed the line” into TMI territory.
OMFG, I DIDN’T NEED TO READ THAT! THAT IS SO DISGUSTING! I JUST LOST MY APPETITE!
I don’t get it. I could say so much worse than the casual mention of the first horrible terrible nearly life-ending poo after giving birth- trust me, I could go into graphic detail much like your famed Centipede movie, but I don’t (I do like to leave a little to the imagination), and suddenly you’re losing your lunch? Really?
No, seriously- stop it! REALLY??
You do know that this whole pooping after giving birth thing… are both caused by SPERM fertilizing an egg, right? And do you know where sperm comes from?
Perhaps if you didn’t want to read harmless banter about after-birth pooping (and we aren’t talking about pooping out LITERAL afterbirth, y’all. But AFTER. BIRTH. check the punctuation. Poop. Not blood and fluid and other delightful things)- you shouldn’t have sex with the ladies or whack it and donate your sperm to a bank- ’cause it’s a fact of life and it’s your own damn fault.
Duh, our fault too- BUT ALSO YOUR FAULT. Accept it, deal with it, and be thankful I didn’t describe to you how popping a va-jay-jay stitch feels WHILE taking a poop.
We ladies could be a hell of a lot more disgusting, but we’re trying to spare you, you dainty little flowers.
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