The Male Condition – A Complete Misunderstanding of All Things Wedding

Hey Ya’ll.

No, I’m not engaged yet, but since everyone around me is getting married, there are a lot of fun conversations happening.  And because by the end of December, I’ll have gone to at least 7 weddings (I lost count), the conversations are a-plenty.  They all have a common theme, too…  I’m realizing that most men know nothing about wedding things.

I’m sure this is on purpose, or at least understandable based on the fact that most men don’t moon over weddings like us women do.

For instance, my Mike didn’t realize that there were two rings involved for the women–an engagement ring and a wedding band.

And someone recently said that their boyfriend thought the engagement ring was just a band, and the ring at the wedding was the more ornate one.  NO!

Ha ha…  so I’m giving the links of all my engagement/wedding etiquette here as a recap.  Call it a resource page for your men:

Engagement Rings

Proposals and Etiquette for Men and Women (don’t get a proposal planner!)

How to be realistic (this is more for the women) about proposals

Wedding Showers

Remember that time I met David Tutera?

That is all!  Any other confusion?  Ask me.

 

 

First Kisses (Maple Syrup-Like Sap Warning)

The movies always portray the first kiss as this wondrous little sparkle that ignites the fuse of the relationship and burns quickly until–you guessed it–you get to that stick of dynamite and everything blows up.

Oh, don’t worry, ya’ll.  Mike and I are nowhere near the end of that fuse.  I’m not quite sure there is one ( 😀 ).

I don’t believe that everyone has their “first kiss” and that’s it. I mean, each first kiss is a chance to start it all over.  That’s why people place so much precedence on it.

My very first first kiss was kind of a disaster.  I didn’t know it was coming, or what I was doing for that matter.  I was walking a boy out of my parents’ house on an early spring night.  I thank him for stopping over, gave him a hug.  And with my attempt to end the hug, I had lips on my face.  Strong, high school band, trumpet playing lips.  In truth, I didn’t want it to ever happen again. When I went back into the house, my mother realized my horror and smiled.

Oddly, I do not recall the first kiss of the boy I dated for three years in high school.  It was either on a bench at the ice rink, or in the back of my mother’s minivan while she drove us to his house.

There was a first kiss in my dorm room at Ashland University that I had been waiting for for months and told my roommate Kay about in the showers the next morning–all babbling and blushing and wonderful.

A hesitant first kiss on my front porch after he’d jumped down, paused, thought twice, and jumped back up.  That kind of sums up that relationship.

There was a first kiss that devastated a two-year infatuation in a single moment with a long-haired, Trans-Am driving mechanic that smelled of patchouli rose oil and Marlboros.  Because really, a kiss is sometimes all you need to know that what you were after was a bad idea.

And then I remember my first kiss with Mike.  Weeks of wanting to, but being unable.  Too many nights holding hands in the streets, our forearms brushing together, staring at each other’s mouths.  And then watching a movie in a dimly lit living room on Petral Court, he made a joke about Dirty Dancing, I jokingly pouted about Patrick Swayze and pulled a quilt over my head.  And then he was under the quilt with me, all warm breath and closeness, the light poking through the swirls left by the thread that held the quilt together.  In the dark, where neither one of us could see, our lips landed on one another’s and lit the fuse.

It was the best first kiss of my life.  And if I’m lucky, it’ll be the last first kiss of my life. 🙂

 

 

Top Five Men-Producing Countries

It’s been awhile since I’ve been crude and talked about men like the pieces of (glorious) meat that they are.

So today, I will give you the Top Five Men-Producing Countries.  WTF does that mean?  It means the countries that produce the type of men that I would like to date.  So…here we go.

Top Five Men-Producing Countries (in no specific order):

1)  Iceland – Manly men.  Manly manly manly.  Like Hermann Hreiðarsson.  6ft 3in of man right there.

2)  Ireland – Fun, drunk, and dead sexy.  Like Colin Farrell.  Bad.  Ass.

3)  Canada – Strong, toothless, wonderful.  And bearded.  Like Carrie Underwood’s husband Mike Fisher.

And Dave Salmoni:

4)  Denmark – Um…what?  Where the hell did Nikolaj Coster-Waldau come from?  And why is he not on my Guilt-Free Three?

5)  Australia – Golden, blonde, beautiful.  Caine Eckstein?  Yeah.  I’ll forgive the belly shirt for this guy.

And Chris Hemsworth:

And the good ole USA for Josh Holloway:

 

Guilt Free Three Update: WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN ALL MY LIFE CHRIS HEMSWORTH?!

Um, here’s the update:

Angus Stone

Taylor Kitsch

And CHRIS HEMSWORTH.  WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN ALL MY LIFE?!  

I’m sorry.  I can’t talk right now.  My mind is elsewhere.

 

I Might Want a Sewing Machine…

So I love sewing by hand–fixing the hole in Mike’s brand new flannel (that he ripped on a nail walking into a bar), sewing buttons, fixing that stupid hole in the pillow that’s leaving poly-fil all over my house.

But I think I want a sewing machine.  Uncle Grandma was a helluva seamstress…and so is my Grandma Cleobelle.  Heck, my dad can even work a sewing machine.

I am lucky enough to have a wonderful seamstress friend named Joy who helped me make my quilt. I love that quilt.  Mike and I shared our first kiss under that quilt.  Sigh.  So long ago. 🙂

But I keep seeing all these cute things on Pinterest that I want to make.  So maybe it’s time…to invest…in a sewing machine.  How domestic!

Good Friday today–remember, no meat, no snacking.

Have a very Happy Easter Sunday!

 

Greener Grass from the Window of a One-Bedroom Apartment?

Last night, I went out to Panini’s in Brunswick to celebrate my friend Greg‘s birthday.  As we were sitting around the fire pit on the patio, I got into a conversation about how I wanted out of my apartment and into…and how some of the guys around me wanted out of their houses and back into apartments.

Let’s get the facts down first:  I hate living in apartments.  I hate the people around me.  I hate the noise.  I hate shared walls. I hate having to unlock two doors to get to my place (even though that makes me feel safe).  My first apartment in Brunswick was pretty much underground…full of spiders…dark…damp.  I felt like a mushroom.

My second apartment is bigger–still on the first floor–but nonetheless, it is still an apartment.  It’s a two-bedroom, but I can honestly count the times I’ve opened the door to that second bedroom on one hand.

Now back to the bar conversation–the guys have houses-nice big houses-that I would kill for.  They have driveways and garages and yards.  They have a home–a reason to decorate and actually make it feel like a home.

Now me–I don’t have a yard.  I can’t even hang a bird-feeder for the cardinals.  I don’t have a balcony (1st floor), and I can’t open my windows because the fucking (white trash) smokers at the front door (who have awesome grammar and language skills, by the way) stand there and bitch and blow smoke into my windows.  I don’t normally judge–but seriously.  I am alone in my apartment.  I have all the time and space to myself.  And I hate it.

Now, the guys I was talking to–the ones with their nice houses and their yards–sometimes long to be back in the one-bedroom apartment stage of their lives.  WHY?!

Simplicity–yes, I understand that.  And that’s pretty much it.  I mean, I don’t get it.

But maybe it’s a gender roles thing.  Maybe men want to go back to that primitive way, and women want to move forward?  Maybe…  Or maybe it’s because I am alone and long for Mike to be with me in my living arrangement, and once you’re older and have been with someone for awhile, you want to go back to solitude.  I don’t know. I don’t get it.

All I know is that I can’t be bothered to decorate my apartment to make it feel like home because it isn’t home.  It’s a temporary place that will hold me until I can find a place with Mike to call home.

Maybe the grass is just never greener out of your current window.

 

Guilt-Free Three Update: Folk Singer Edition

The Guilt-Free Three officially has a Folk Singer Edition.  Mostly because of one man–but I’m realizing that folk singers are mighty sexy.  MIGHTY.

So here we go:

#3:  Kristian Matsson:  The Tallest Man On Earth

HOLY GEEZ.  Not only is his voice and his music AMAZING, he’s like a Swedish James Dean.  Lordy!

#2:  Charlie Fink:  “Noah & The Whale”

Gimme that hair!

#1:  Angus Stone:  Angus & Julia Stone

Whaaaaa–okay, I’ll admit it.  This is the whole reason for this post.  HOLY SHIT.  The hair, the scruff, the chest fur, the voice, the harmonica.  I can’t help myself.  Luckily, he only sings with his sister, so he’s not married–plus, Mike digs his sister Julia.

 

Why It’s Okay for Men to Stare at Women

YES.  If you’ll remember my catcalling post, you can probably assume that I’m on board with this article.

“Why men can’t–and shouldn’t–stop staring at women”

Why are men looked down upon for looking at women?  Why do they feel ashamed if they’re caught?  I know that if I catch a man looking at me, I’m not offended–I’m rather flattered.  Hell, I’m flattered when I catch Mike looking at me.

So why is there such a stigma?  Even if the guys are older (as in the case of this article), just because they’re looking at a woman doesn’t mean that they’re going to sexually assault her.  They’re just giving recognition to a woman that they find attractive.  Big deal?  Absolutely–in the very best way.

Part of the reason men are questioning whether or not they’re pervs for looking at women?  I agree with “Y”:  “The problem for us as men is that we’re in the wrong culture, and we’re men at the wrong time. We’re not a culture that empowers men with casual sensuality.”

And quite possibly my favorite paragraph:  “I’m about to leave when Z tosses me a last thought. ‘Some women assume the male gaze is sinful and hurtful and evil, that men can never look at women in a different way. But that’s not what the gaze is about. Because a sophisticated man would not hesitate to gaze, and then he might be filled with regret and loss, and therefore gain self-knowledge.'”

Look on, men.  Look on.

 

Back in Ohio, 3 Years In, Love Him More Than EVER

Hi People!

I’m back in Ohio after my weekend with Mike in PA, Maryland (at the Rocky Gap Resort), and even a lil bit of West Virginia.  We had such a great time, and the weather couldn’t have been better.  We hiked and drank and ate and loved.  It was perfect.

I’m playing catch-up at work right now (this is my 3 minute lunch break just to update–does that tell you how much I love you all?), but I’ll post pictures soon.

In fact, I owe you a plethora of pictures, don’t I?  Perhaps tonight, after a long long long run (in my new kicks!) in the 80 degree March weather.  Unprecedented!

For now, I’ll tide you over with this–a picture of the ring Mike got me:

I love it!

Happy first day of Spring!

 

Respect for Womanhood Requires Respect for Manhood

Get your darn minds out of the gutter.  This has nothing to do with getting yours and then giving him his, too.

What I’m saying is this:  Ladies–you want your womanhood and your capabilities and all of your potential to be recognized.  You are proud to be women and want to be treated like equals.  You wanted to be respected, to be treated like a woman, and to catch no flack for doing both.

And oddly enough, and contrary to prior postings, I don’t see a problem with this.  But we (women) complain that there are no good men left.  There is no more chivalry and manners and men treating women like ladies.

Reasons?  I think I have two.

1. Read the bold description up top and tell me that doesn’t sound demanding as hell.  It’s intimidating!  Powerful women are great and all, but when you’re so set on gaining respect and making your own way, men are afraid they’re going to offend you if they try to treat you like a woman.
2. Second reason is that women are failing miserable to treat men like men.  I was the first to ask where all the real men have gone.

And I think I’ve solved it.

Women, you want respect, which you deserve.  You also want to be treated like a lady.  So LET men treat you like a lady for one thing.  Even though you can change your own oil and make it to your meeting with a Supreme Court Justice just fine by yourself, let a guy take on some of the responsibilities for you.  They LIKE taking care of you.

With that said, ladies, if you want to be respected and treated like ladies, you have to do the same for men.  Treat a man like a man and respect him.  Not only that–recognize that he is a man.

I know this sounds sexist.  But really, on both ends, we need to recognize what the other wants us to see in them.

Although Mike (boyfriend) and I are best friends, we also know not to just treat each other like pals.  He surprises me with girly things like spa products, and he opens car doors and other chivalrous things, but he has no doubt that I am capable of doing these things myself.

It works in reverse, too.  I see Mike as my equal, but I also recognize that Mike’s a man and enjoys doing man things, and truth be told, I don’t mind having him get the heavier bags when we go shopping, or running out to get the car in the rain so my hair doesn’t get messed up.

I’m digging myself into a hole.  I like gender roles, and I know some of you defy them in any way you can.  But when it comes down to it, you DO have a gender and I think it’s nice when it’s recognized.