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In The Weeds: The Heart of Seduction

March 2, 2010

Beware. Seduction takes many forms.

“You know the stripper myth? There’s a stripper myth, that’s being perpetuated throughout society. The myth is, I’m strippin’ to pay my tuition. No you’re not! There’s no strippers in college! There’s no clear heels in biology! Shit, man. I didn’t know they had a college that only took one-dollar bills. And if they got so many strippers at college, how come I never got a smart lap dance? I never got a girl that sat on my lap and said, If I was you, I would diversify my portfolio. You know, ever since the end of the Cold War, I find NATO obsolete!” — Chris Rock

If you don’t watch ABC’s The Bachelor, see you next Tuesday.  I guess that would include all of you men out there.  But it’s probably better that you go, because I have some words of wisdom for just the ladies today.  Writing a post that not only confesses to my watching The Bachelor but also delves into my analysis and life lessons learned from the show is even more embarrassing than penning propaganda for boxed wine.  But here goes.

Women the world over last night were disgusted – no, they were angry – when Jake picked a 23-year-old recycled Hooters girl complete with unkempt roots, a squirrel’s nest of hair extensions, visible tattoos and a crazy eye.  Vienna is the girl that every woman loves to hate.  The runner-up and heartbroken silver medalist was Tenley, a sugary sweet Disney princess who farts rainbows and won’t stop talking about her ex-husband and how he left her ass for some hotter sex.  I swear to God, if she would have said how “much love she has to give” or how “she wants to be treasured and adored for who she is” one more time, I would have been headed to divorce court myself for slinging a wine bottle at my husband’s treasured and adored flat screen.

Jake did what every male species does when trying to choose a mate.  He trusted his most valued confidant.  His penis.  His penis promised him that if he would just trust it, everything else that was lacking in his choice of a wife (such as literacy and eyes that can move in synchronization) would just work itself out.

We women can’t understand this.  We are all about the total package.  And men are, too, for the long term.  But in the short term, like say a dating show that lasts six weeks or in a moment of weakness after years of faithful averageness, men don’t think about the package, men think about the box.   They want the excitement, the heat and the passion.  And we women want those things, too, but we come equipped with a warning sensor that blares loudly before a major blunder and says, “Hey, do you really want this guy hanging out with your kids every other weekend?”  Guys don’t have that.  Their sensor fails to alert them that a stripper won’t teach their kids to read.

Another Chris Rock teaching moment:

“On one hand, there’s commitment:  You and your woman together…forever. Living, sharing, loving, growing.  It’s the most beautiful thing in the world.  And in his heart of hearts, a man knows that.
On the other hand, there’s New Pu**y.  This needs no explanation.
It’s a tough decision, because a lot of men don’t look at marriage as gaining a good woman, they look at it as giving up New Pu**y.
Commitment?  Or New Pu**y?  Every man’s got to decide.
Commitment will give you a headache every now and again.
New Pu**y always clears your mind.
But in the long run, if you’re sick, is New Pu**y gonna take care of you?  No.
If you’re hungry, is New Pu**y gonna feed you?  New Pu**y can’t cook!
If you have a baby, is New Pu**y gonna teach her to read?  New Pu**y’s illiterate!”

Women, we would be wise not to blow off Jake’s decision to propose to Vienna as simple poor judgment or a rare fetish for cross-eyed transvestites.  I admit his choice shook my confidence a bit and that’s when I realized…we need to take a lesson from Jake’s penis, for the sake of our children, and start acting like our husband’s girlfriends again.  Think about how you treated him when you were dating.  All the sexy things you did, the way you dressed, the way you flirted and made him know you wanted him.  He already knows you are really smart and can pay the bills on time and that you can install a car seat faster and tighter than a safety officer.  But now is the time to remind him of why his penis chose you in the first place and to protect your family and your husband from the Vienna fly traps of the world… and from STDs masquerading as dating show contestants.  So put on those clear heels and smudge your eyeliner enough to look like you’ve been up all night working the pole and snorting coke off a co-workers ass.  If you want to go so far as crossing your eyes a bit, your man may even start to look like Jake.  So it’s a win win.


4 Responses to “ In The Weeds: The Heart of Seduction ”

  1. Pancake on March 2, 2010 at 1:05 pm

    well-played, Charity – my eyeliner is down to my neck and
    i am tending to my laundry in lucite heels today.

  2. bigcrockofgold on March 2, 2010 at 3:48 pm

    It is our Kryptonite, we are rendered helpless, little head takes over and we screw it all up. Bill knows what I mean, so too does Tiger and John Edwards and, and, and…damn you New P**sy, damn you New P**sy. See you next Tuesday too.

  3. FrothygirlzCJ on March 2, 2010 at 5:23 pm

    Pancake – HA! Your comment has me doing the stupid smile at my desk trying to act like there something really funny in my work-related email.

  4. FrothygirlzCJ on March 2, 2010 at 5:24 pm

    …IS something funny rather