For those of you new to the site, welcome! Freaky Friday is the designated day for sex talk on my blog.
***IMPORTANT DISCLAIMER*** This is sexually explicit material and may not be suitable for younger members of our blogging audience.
My parents belong to a charismatic Methodist (is that an oxymoron?) church. A couple of months ago my father (a recently born-again Christian) attended a men's retreat and learned that to "look" at another woman is a temptation to sin. He seemed quite surprised by this new information. I assumed his surprise meant he'd been a girl-watcher from way back. But now he is looking forward to his new path of averting his eyes.
You must understand that while my Dad is an attractive man...at 76 I don't think he has to worry about something "happening" between him and the hot 20-somethings he's been admiring from afar. I'm certainly no theologist but if you ask me, Carter's "lusting in his heart" just doesn't compare to Clinton doing Monica in the Oval Office with a cigar. But I digress.
IF YOU CAN'T BEAT 'EM...JOIN 'EM
I know my husband looks at other women. And most of the time I don't blame him...I'm looking, too, if the woman is especially voluptuous and scantily-clad.
A long time ago I realized it was better for me to point out those women to him if I happen to see them before he does. That way I can be a part of the girl-watching game. Do you think that spoils the fun?
Of course, all's fair in love and looking. Women have been known to seek out eye-candy, as well. I can't tell you how much I've mourned the sight of men's butts in tight jeans. Those baggy, relaxed, loose, oversized and sagging Levi's can NOT go out of style quick enough.
But truthfully, I think men-watching is a defense mechanism for all the ogling the men are doing. Women are turned on by what we feel, not by what we see, right?
I also understand that men are hunters by their very nature (women are gatherers, is that how it goes?) With keen eyes, men are always scouting for prey...even if they've already been gathered, washed, peeled, pickled and put up in a jar by their wives. They look so left-out with their noses pressed up against the glass. I figure the least we can do is let them girl-watch.
10 comments:
Ahhhh! My Friday fun-read is a good one this week! (Again, I might add.)
One question: I can relate to being "gathered" and "washed," but being "peeled, pickled, and put up in a jar" sounds downright kinky! Care to elaborate?
My wife and I are note each other's physical types. She prefers tall and muscular. I'm short and scrawny. I like athletic and red hair. She's shapely and blonde.
She once pointed out a gorgeous red head in a store. I told her that that woman was my dream girl. She said "Go ask her out." I puffed out my chest, flashed my machismo and said "Don't try me."
"Go ahead," she said. "YOu don't have the guts."
"Bad move," I replied. I walked directly towards this stunning, striking woman. The closer I moved, the more I realized how right I was. She was gorgeous beyond belief. I had not intention of saying a word, I just planned on walking past her.
I was about a step away when this perfect specimen stops flipping through the rack of shirts, looks directly at me, turning her whole body to face me, and then with a smile I'll never forget, says "Hi!" with an enthusiasm that changed my life.
I stopped, blushed, and practically ran from the store. My wife was with me seconds later, laughing hysterically, hugging me saying "What happened, my big, macho man. Did a pretty girl try to talk to you?'
She's never let me live it down, although we do still point out eye candy to one another.
Sorry for the meaningless, long response, but it amuses me, even if no one else.
Very very cute response from Hamel.
Duke, I was just taking the "gathering" term a few steps further. You know, like from gathering the cucumber all the way to pickles in a jar? For the "hunter" analogy I could have said, hunted, killed, tied to the hood of the car, taken home and mounted to the wall.
Sorry, no sexual connotation intended in either case, I swear.
Hamel, this is a great story but that has to hurt your wife a little that shapely and blonde isn't your type...you might want to rethink what your "type" is...lol.
You know what Karyn, I'd agree with you if not for the fact I'm not my wife's type. She likes tall, muscular men with long hair. I'm a 5' 8" runner (she doesn't let me live it down that I called once, for kicks, to be a sperm donor and they turned me down over the phone for not being 5'9" - that's a entire different story though) who weighs 148 pounds. I'm also balding, with the receeding hairline that leaves my forehead looking like a negative of Mickey Mouse's outline. But she still loves me and I love her, so it's all worked out so far.
So I'll change my type when she drastically revises hers. Ha!
Hamel, I would give her the same advice but SHE'S not here. I guess I'm just confused because my type is lean (my husband is 5'11" and 175) and my husband's is shapely and blonde (what could POSSIBLY be wrong with that?)
Hysterically funny about the height requirement for sperm donors. There's got to be a country song somewhere in that...lol.
The odds are in your favor...I'll keep my fingers crossed1
Best of luck, Katydanzer.
Karyn, I was begging to donate, and was begging the woman on the phone. "Can I wear shoes when you measure me? No? How about sandals? No? Thick socks? What!? Bare feet?"
That's when I knew my goose was cooked.
LOL! I love this post! I'm always looking, but he never knows it. He looks so boldly, EVERYone knows.
I mean, we have to have something in our mental stock-pile for our fantasies, right?
Thanks, Brenda. I was hoping the women would speak up on this Freaky Friday post. The "girls" have been quiet lately...
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