I Say Colon; You Hear Butthole

Even though I teach English, not all of my friends are teachers. I do have a handful of friends that also teach, but neither of my best friends work in fields remotely related to academia. They are intelligent, accomplished professionals, but like most people, they are not grammarians.

Knowing the intricacies of English grammar is not a survival skill; it isn't even the key to success (a friend is currently padding her bank account by doing workshops related basic writing for very accomplished audiences, for example, the Navy Seals) but because I spend so much time contemplating and teaching grammar I assume that my knowledge is common knowledge: I often forget that the average person doesn't understand the function of the colon.

The colon, the two periods on top of each other as my students call it, has three basic functions: to introduce a list, to signal an elaboration or example of what came before the colon, and to build up anticipation.The colon (:) can be replaced with the words "for example," "to elaborate," or "wait for it!"

Recently, while engaging in a round of Crabs Adjust Humidity (an off-shoot and addition to Cards Against Humanity) with my group of non-teacher friends, as Card Czar I drew the following "question" card: "_______________________: Ain't nobody got time for that."

I thought that sharing the use of the colon (:) would help my friends come up with witty answers, so I said, "Blank colon (:) Ain't nobody got time for that." By doing so, I thought my friends would grab onto the "wait for it" aspect of the punctuation in order to construction a witty response. I waited in anticipation for the rhetorical genius to come my way:

• "Micropenis: Ain't nobody got time for that."
• "Breeding elves for their priceless semen: Ain't nobody got time for that."
• "Two midgets shitting into a bucket: Ain't nobody got time for that."

The kind of wittiness I envisioned was not what I got.  When I said colon (:) they heard

My friends were so excited for me to read their answers: they were laughing before I even flipped their cards over.  When I began to read them, I put down the question card for them all to see and the miscommunication was immediately seen.

"You meant the punctuation," a friend said.  "I thought you meant the other colon."

Of course, I extemporized on the ridiculousness of that assumption. I know that CAH is a crass, bathroom-humor type of game for twisted minds, but in what world does "_____________ colon: Ain't nobody got time for that" make any sense?  Mircropenis: makes sense; breeding elves for their priceless semen: makes sense; two midgets shitting in a bucket: makes sense.

My friends proved me wrong.  The answers they provided actually did make sense in both contexts: the punctuation and the anatomy.

• "A butt-plug in the shape of a rolled-up copy of the U.S. Constitution"
• "A tossed salad"
• "Struggle Snuggles"

Which one did I pick as the winner? Struggle Snuggles, just to be spiteful. 

Booze and Books

My sister texts "Super drunk. Making my way back" at 3 a.m.

Recently I did a turn-around trip to Las Vegas with my sister, Kelli. The occasion that prompted the trip was that her two best friends, Kyle and Todd,  from high school would be staying there for a week in a time-share. Between the guys' military service and moving to different states, Kelli doesn't have many opportunities to see them so this was not to be missed. We left on a Sunday, but she had to be back by Monday evening because she had a very important meeting for her job on Tuesday.

Now, my sister is very responsible. She didn't need me to keep her out of trouble (I'm usually the one who needs bailing out). I was basically her designated driver for the ride home.  Kelli hadn't seen Todd and Kyle in a few years; she is a mother to a toddler and career driven. 24 hours - kid + her high school BFFs = party, party, party until the breaka-breaka dawn. I would be hauling a very hungover sister home.

I packed yoga pants and tanks-tops, flip-flops, and a book. Kelli packed three pairs of shoes, two pairs of jeans, several blingy tops, and a dress.

A few minutes after she informs me that she's wasted and working her way back to the hotel, I get "Can you come get me?"  As I am sliding out of bed, I get "I'm getting a cab."

Good thinkin' sis.

I meet her and her friends in the casino of the hotel.  The guys are wide-eyed and jovial; Kelli is slouched over an empty Blackjack table.

Been there; done that.

The guys make sure that I know what a "trooper" she was.  If two career military men claim that a "civilian" can keep up with their drinking, that makes one's badass status official.

I escort Kelli back to the room and pour her into bed.

She wakes up at around 8 a.m. saying, "I don't feel that bad."

That's because she's still drunk, but I decide not to burst her bubble.

By 10 a.m., she's near death. She anticipated this condition so she arranged for a late check-out time. See what I mean? Responsible.

I knock around the casino for a bit, return to the room to see if Kelli is up for lunch.  My suggestion of a meal sends her scurrying to the bathroom; I am on my own.

Grabbing my book, I head down to the America cafe, belly up to the bar and order a cheeseburger. As I am reading, the host cruises by, stops short, looks at me and says, "Wow, you don't see much of that anymore."

At first, I think he's referring to my hotness. Then my heart sinks as I realize that he's referring to my reading. The monologue of how the decline of civilization is because nobody reads is scrolling through my head.

Well, this is Vegas. It's not like people come here to read. Only nerds like me.

He saunters over, leans on the bar next to me and says, "All you see these days is people with their electronic books. I haven't seen an actual book in a long, long time.

At this point, I'm near suicide. Only recently have I acquired and electronic reader and I've yet to use it.

Both Kelli and I were moaning in agony on the way home.

"You Don't Have to Be Naked to Be Sexy"--Nicole Kidman

I decided to take a break from dating several months ago and have been enjoying my sabbatical. I find I like men better when I don't date them.  

I have no doubt that the problem was (is) me.  When online dating and sexting exploded onto the scene, I was in a serious relationship.  My ex and I would send dirty texts, but more in the name shits-and-giggles than foreplay.  So, when I re-entered the dating scene at 38, not only was online dating and sexting the new way to court but also cougars were the objects of said courting.  For a while, my ego relished in these 20-something young bucks clamoring at my heels, but after a while new dating etiquette began to frustrate and confuse me.  One thing that made me nuts were the naked-selfies that I not only received (I could publish my own Playgirl with all the penises I've been sent) but were also asked for on a regular basis.  I never sent one man a naked picture of myself and it had absolutely nothing to do with how I felt about my body.

Do women enjoy being told we are beautiful?  Of course. Does it make us feel good to be categorized as sexy? Absolutely.  Does that mean we want to send you a naughty picture and/or talk dirty to any guy that asks for it? No. And to assume that that is the exception and not the rule is insulting.

Women are willing to capture and share their nudity on film for three basic reasons: to please their partner with whom they have established a relationship with, to compensate for their lack of self-esteem, or for a paycheck.  I am not suggesting that women who are proud of their bodies and show them off at every opportunity have no self-esteem, but if she's doing it in the name of being accepted by the opposite sex, I see that as a big problem.  Just because he wants it ladies, doesn't men he should get it.  

And to those who do it for a paycheck: good for you.  At least you’re acknowledging that your body isn’t up for grabs to whoever wants to see it.  You are acknowledging your body is valuable in a language all will understand.  

Women who will not engage in sexting with men they don’t know very well or aren't in a relationship with are not “uptight” or “prudes” or “melodramatic." They just happen to have some integrity.

So, when a man who I’ve either never met in person or who I’ve only been on a date or two with suddenly wants me to start sending naked pictures and talking dirty, you know how that makes me feel? Like an object. Like a prostitute.  Let me take that back, offering to pay me to send you a naked picture or talk dirty to you would make me feel less used—less objectified.  Hell, I might even be flattered a bit. At least that way, the john is acknowledging that what I got ain't for free.I don’t get anything—except for a sense of shame-- out of sending naked pictures of myself to acquaintances, or in more cases than not, near strangers. My self-worth is not based on who does (or does not) want to fuck me or see me naked.  To me, access to my body is a privilege; something has to be earned in one way or another.  That doesn’t mean that you have to love me or that I have to love you, but I do need a relationship established outside the perimeters of WiFi.

I choose to teach high school instead of wire my mouth shut so I can lose 800 pounds and become a Playboy model; I teach high school instead of setting up a 900 number (or chatroom where nothing dirty is coming your way until you contribute to my bank account).  And just because I’m not willing to hand over my intimate, sexual life to you on a platter just because you want it, doesn’t mean that I don’t know how to fuck you senseless.  That doesn’t mean that with the right guy, who respects me, I am not willing to do things that would make any man blush.

Let me create an analogy. To my understanding, men are sensitive about their finances.  A man’s earnings is something private to him, and he might be a bit sensitive about it because not only women, but the media, link a man’s  worth to how much money he has  in the same way that a woman’s worth is linked to her appearance. 

Now, in the online message/texting phase of a courtship, wouldn’t it be a bit presumptuous for me to ask, “Hey, do you have an extra $100 lying around to send me a dozen roses?” Why would a man who has not found an emotional connection to me, who may think I’m cool and attractive, but really doesn’t know me, want to spend $100 of his hard-earned money on buying me flowers?  

If a man enjoys sending women flowers, regardless of how he feels about them, because it makes him feel accomplished or proud because he can afford to do that, then bonus for me.  And just because he may not want to do that during the fledgling stages of a relationship, that doesn’t mean he never will.  As our relationship grows and my happiness influences his happiness, he’ll enjoy sending me flowers because I love receiving them.  Because he respects me as a person and finds aspects of my character attractive, my appreciation will make him feel good about himself.  But for me to assume that his life’s goal is to make all women happy by sending them flowers is objectifying him.  I am basing his value to me on something that has nothing to do with his character or mine.

So, those women who get a feeling of empowerment or accomplishment by sharing their bodies openly, that’s the same bonus for a man as a man who just likes to send women flowers is to me. But to presume that every woman wants to do that for you just because you tell her she’s hot or send her a few charming emails/texts is arrogant.  It’s the same as if I assume that just because I have big tits every guy is tripping over himself to get to the flower store or make reservations at that five-star restaurant is arrogant.

For that man whose emotional and/or physical pleasure is important to me: I’ll sext you all day long.  I’ll want to send you naked pictures and dirty texts because you enjoy it.  And I give a shit about what makes you happy because you give a shit about what makes me happy. You’ve taken the time and care to listen to what I say, to ask pertinent questions, to make me comfortable to communicate with you. You don’t just assume; you care enough to regard me as an individual with unique needs and wants. Even if those needs and wants only take place in the bedroom. 

Ladies, I hope I've given you a voice on this issue.  Gentlemen, I hope I've given you a little insight.