New tax penalties for single women

Government introduces new tax penalties for single women and fashion bloggers
by Shalala Riceampeas
April 27, 2015 09:15 GMT

The Government has announced in the 2015 Spring Statement and 2015 Finance Bill, tax measures that are likely to be welcomed by men who have been unable to find girlfriends in the dating pool, bars and pubs.

Three tax measures are intended to support peer-to-peer introductions; online dating services; dental clinics; hair salons and fitness clubs.

  1. From April 2016, a new tax penalty of 10% will be introduced for women who do not register their relationship status as “in a relationship” on HateBook. All women are required to register their relationship status with local councils. Verification documents may include vacation photos, party videos, xrated chats, and not safe for work videos.
  2. The Government will be introducing an additional 20% income tax for all fashion and beauty bloggers who fail to register as being “in a relationship” as of April 2017.
  3. Finally, the Government will build on its promise to stamp out antisocial behaviour among unmarried women with relationship training, love life inspections and registration centres throughout the country.

The introduction of the tax penalties will encourage more women to develop the skills to attract men and keep them interested. Relief will therefore be offered to men who have said they are not having any luck picking up women in bars, nightclubs, restaurants, train stations, book stores, or hotel lobbies.

Finance Minister Spahm Bherger has said that single women “spend too much of their income on scented candles, handbags, shoes, lacy underwear and cosmetics.” He further said that, “women with boyfriends or husbands tend to make meals at home and do laundry. We believe that the new tax measures will help more men to have their nutrition and intimacy needs met at home.” News of the crackdown has caused a surge in the number of registrations at KindHer, BindHer and Independent matchmaking services have also seen a surge in customers.

Bella Donna, a pole play choreographer at PolinEX, has said she will need more staff to help teach scores of women who have registered for nightly pole and lap dancing lessons. Some fashion bloggers have seen the new tax measure as a way to make quick cash. They offer wardrobe arrangement, makeup and etiquette lessons via Skype.

Fashion blogger Raga Muffine charges $50 per hour for fruit licking lessons at her tiny apartment in the city. Clients bring their own ripe bananas or Twinkies to class. Ms Muffine provides the whipped cream, maple syrup or chocolate sauce at no extra cost.

According to the Spring Statement, the Government will not recognise unmarried same sex couples. This means that women will not be able to pretend they are in relationships with their single girlfriends in an attempt to avoid paying the tax.

Finally, the Government has also announced its intention to introduce new online systems. These are the Social Engagement Kickstart Scheme (SEKS) and Seed Injection Scheme (SIS). These systems are geared at providing legal insurance to companies as encouragement to relax rules about staff relations and sexual harassment policies, making it less problematic for busy women to flirt with men and find boyfriends at work.

The schemes are likely to be of interest to not only nerds and geeks who traditionally have no game, but also to speed dating providers who wish to provide lunchtime dating sessions for corporate clients.

Divorced women and widows will also be penalised.

What are your thoughts on the proposed changes? Tweet us: @kissmycinnabuns. Image via Jonathan Borba, Unsplash.


Two weeks

Two weeks

Midst night it breaks,
like a
potent fire;
does not put out.
harmony dissipates.
Love was,
“Betrayal,” meet “Desire.”
Plural eyes her life’s force renew.
Resurrection, hurry along,
woah, do me do.
Chaste the lark, unsung the blues,
warming lyric palettes, cooling lusty hues.
Two weeks, recall, I was so into you.
“Ah! Love, you know why it cannot be you.”


men women writing

48, Single Men Only

If you were a spornosexual dandy in your twenties and thirties, forty was the year you were smoking hot. You could do no wrong. Women wilted at the sight of you and men wanted to be you. The first thing you needed to be an expert at when you hit forty was how to be with women. I don’t care how much you suck at your job, this was the most important skill you needed to have at that age.

If you weren’t lucky enough to have won the style sense lottery, are unhappily single or divorced but gainfully employed and reasonably sane, this post is for you.

You are not a small animal, so stop acting like one. First, do not compare women to inanimate objects. It’s not a compliment. If you think she’s beautiful say, “You’re beautiful”. That’s it. If you like her say, “I like you.” No explanation necessary. Never try to be poetic or descriptive about why you like her. If she wants a man to read her poetry she should join a book club. Because a woman with that as a priority will bring you nothing but misery and pain.

Second, never initiate a conversation with a woman when you feel horny. You’re going to mess up. You’re going to put your foot in your mouth and she’s going to slap you.

Assess yourself before you wreck yourself. Think of all the wonderful things about yourself that you admire. Your humour, your good looks, your charm, your ability to use eye contact to melt panties. Now strike all of those things off your list because no one sees you that way.

In other words, don’t be a pompous oaf. If you’re overweight, balding and lumpy; take medication for diabetes, high blood pressure and heart disease before drinking half a bottle of cognac; have erectile dysfunction and smoke like a chimney, please leave the woman’s tiny little breakout alone. If she’s younger and fitter than you are, it is simply oaflike to use the fact that she’s over the age of eighteen against her.

By the age of thirty seven most men have a working knowledge of who they were at twenty seven. Socially, it is not a requirement for men to constantly reassess and update themselves as they grow. Women have a better advantage because we always see ourselves as we are going to be in ten years.

Now imagine reaching forty eight and interacting with women as if you’re twenty seven. Are you having problems getting women to stay interested? That’s why.

Listen. It’s really important to pay attention to what is being said to you. Assume she’s not speaking in metaphors. She knows exactly what she’s thinking and she’s telling you exactly what’s going on in her mind. Ask lots of questions if you don’t understand. Be direct and use simple phrasing. It’s what forensic scientists, economists and Nobel prize winning physicists do all the time.

Third “animal point”? Stop making out in cars. Get comfortable first. Her breast is not a horn so don’t pump or tap it. I don’t want to hear any of that crapiology from the 1920s when people were passing syphilis around like it was cornbread. It is 2015. There is no excuse for you to not know how your body works. The Playboy Channel is not the way to learn. Your superhuman ability to sustain an erection for days is a cause for concern. Borrow an anatomy textbook from your local library and read it from beginning to end.

Fourth point. The law of reciprocity applies. Before you start inspecting manicures for length and sustainability, see your above list of flaws and pick them apart at home. Be thorough. At forty eight did you really ask her to gag on it? Alright, get an unpeeled banana and shove it down your throat to see what it feels like. Try something a bit more rigid and unyielding up your rectum. Jam it in. Ask someone to yank on your hair really hard and pull it out. Tell them to ignore your pleas to stop. Try waxing the hair off your legs. Pull hard through the pain. Don’t cry. I know you’re bleeding, but just go with it.

If you say you’ve enjoyed all that, you are lying. But that’s what you sound like when you talk to women about “passionate lovemaking.”

Shut up. Awkward silences help you to assess the way you feel in the space that you’ve created with each other. Your job is not to entertain a woman. She should know how to entertain herself. You’re simply enjoying her company and that’s all any woman should ask of you.

Good luck.


Regina et Ochs

At noon the prestige: supra lux
Her Trappistine promises conventions
This Methodist morning he’s pampered
in tux
Tonight, a king…
est mort?

Anchors away from that Grecian Trust
whilst bindings come loose
from stomachs and busts
Her pirates assail
on wings from above
Untie them in Love:
Regina et Ochs

.shcO te anigeR
:evol ni meht eitnU
;evoba morf sgniw no
liassa setarip reH
stsub dna shcamots morf
esool emoc sgnidnib tslihW
;tsurT naicerG taht morf yawa srohcnA

?trom tse
…gnik a ,thginoT
.xut ni derepmap gninrom tsidohteM
.xuder snoitnevnoC
,esimorp enitsipparT reH
.xul arpus :egitserp eht noon tA

::::: Regina et Ochs (The Heiress and her Stud) ::::

men women

Soul mates? iKu2e shows us the math

Guest post by iKu2e. Many thanks to him for allowing me this. This essay is the last in his five part series on soul mates. My comment, when I first read it was:

Thank you for using mathematics to show how full of crap we are. I just had a thought, before reading this post, that the current system of dating is based on pride and lust. If only we knew that the reason we’re going to be miserable in relationships is that we’re trying to reach a statistical goal that’s unattainable.

iKu2e is a thoughtful, feeling man. He’s an engineer and he writes poetry. It is a tough read if you are math averse, but you are smart people so I would like you to please try to get to the bottom of it. For my part, instead of bombarding indifferent others with my feelings, I am going to be kind to the people who truly love me. Embracing them is a sensible plan.

Soul mates – Part V

A mathematical study of how many soul mates you have on this earth
by iKu2e

This is my last post on the Soul Mates Research. I had no idea of soul mates before starting this research and now I am back to the state where I was. I explain why! What is a soul mate? The people around say there is one soul which was created for you. If you are the one thinking the same, stop it!

If you have one soul for you on the earth which is same as like yours, then the 50% of the people on the earth would be the soul mates of the other 50%, which seems to be a funny idea. The total number of people on the earth while I write is 7,300,757,312. Males and females percentage is 50.4% and 49.6% respectively.

None of the religions talk about soul mates, rather they give more importance to the single soul. All of them try to elevate each soul to the next level and give them a better place on the earth. World mythologies, yes they talk a lot about the soul mates as I described in Part II of this series.

Psychologists they just give opinions based on surveys, which is basically the idea of the people. There is no soul which exactly same as you or me, but there might be a 99.99% matching soul. Though this soul is matching yours, it might not help you achieve your purpose.

Out of 7,300,757,312 souls, that is 1.369720916974373e-8 % or 0.00000001369720916974373% is the percentage of people on the earth whom you are looking for. Still do you believe that you can meet that person?

But we can make some calculation to find out the number of soul mates for each soul on the earth. Remember, each soul can have many soul mates, not only one. If you believe in only one soul mate you are with the above percentage of people and don’t move on, you are free to go and search for that 0.00000001369720916974373% of people on the earth which I believe impossible in this lifetime.

There are many hypotheses that can be used to calculate the best match for your soul, but they relate to love. You do not have to be soul mates to be in a romantic relationship. That is the reason why I don’t want to use those hypotheses here. Let us assume that each soul mate shares some preferences / characters common to its soul mate. You want to meet every person for at least 1 seconds to decide if he/she is your soul mate.

In total, you need 7,300,757,312 seconds which is 231.35197997422 years on the earth. Do you think you can live 231 years on the earth?

Check your average age of your country and let’s limit the soul mate calculation within your age limit. Life expectancy of the world population varies from 85 years to 38 years. Considering that you live to the max age of 85 years:

231 years will be split into 231/85 = 2.717647058823529 times where the whole population also can be split into 2.717647058823529 times.

So you will be able to meet only 7,300,757,312/2.717647058823529 = 2686425850 people on the earth in the 85 years of your life.

2686425850 people into seconds into years = 85 Years! The highest life expectancy of the people on the earth! To further filter the people to meet your soul mate, Let us do this way, You can define the number of characters/preferences you expect in your soul mate:

Preferences or p = It might be 1,2,3,4,……n of characters/preferences.

You have p number of characteristics and you expect ‘k’ number of people.

Number of people matching your preferences = k

p = number of preferences, k = number of people who meet your demands

Assuming all the people have the same no of preferences, we have to find out a solution to match the demands to each other and find out the best matches. Using Binary logarithm of mathematics, where we assume the people in 2 dimensional array, we can find out the number of matching soul mates:

n+k*n = n*log2(k*n)

n = 2686425850 , number of people you have to meet in the 85 years of your life.

Solving this equation gives the value of ‘k’ as 35.4716 which can be taken as whole value of 35!

So you have 35 soul mates on the earth which can you meet in 85 years among 2,686,425,850 people.

There are lot of assumptions in the solution! We considered people as two dimensional data because each person has their own preferences and the person who is seeking his/her soul mate has his own set of preferences which has to be compared against each person in the dating pool of 2,686,425,850 persons. So it’s up to you accept it.



Unmarried women

Nowadays, I don’t want to give advice to women friends when they come to me about their troubled relationships. I listen and ask questions. I ask them to answer their own questions. I do this because I don’t trust them.

In the middle of dinner, the phone rings. Everything they’ve said about him ten seconds before is incorrect.

I’m happy now. I can’t stop texting to put this spoonful of risotto in my mouth. He’s just liked my photo on Instagram. Oh, and I have to leave before dessert; he’s coming over to smoke and complain about the draft in my apartment.

They’re going to meet their crappy boyfriends. After a brief reunification ceremony, they tell their crappy boyfriends what I advised them to do. When things devolve again, my phone rings: “Let’s go out for lunch.” They want to cry on my shoulder. So, I say nothing.

Don’t shake your head. You’ve done this to your friends, too.

The post before this one, Forty, presents an actual conversation. Some parts of it were fictionalised. I asked “N” to speak loudly into her iPhone while I was teaching her to use Siri. I sat across the room and transcribed everything we all said. Two days later, she was doing somersaults in the same space, before dyeing her hair green. “He called me to say he loves me.”

Fix it, Jesus.

One woman, who was “over it” wrote on her blog, “Why am I even bothering with relationships at all? He won’t “lock me in” as his girlfriend”. I noticed the disempowering phrasing: “Lock me in” as if relationships were a form of confinement. I guessed that she was happy with her boyfriend, but I wrote to her anyway:

Men can act like shit but it’s only because they know you won’t leave them. He knows you want to be serious and it’s making him feel secure. That’s why he’s being unkind. I see from a recent post you have a boyfriend. I wonder if it’s the same one?

I was not surprised when she reported that it’s the same boyfriend and he is awesome now:

He’s done a complete 180. I told him he needed to modify his behaviour and act like he’s in a relationship or I would be leaving and he would end up a lonely old man.

So, why do women ask for support for their nightmare relationships when they know they’ll reverse themselves as soon as the situation settles?

I can’t deal with y’all.

When was the last time you showed your back to a man you really liked? When he’s spent all of three minutes being there for you, you could say, “Go home, I am going to do something else.” You think he won’t come back, so you endure the small injuries to your dignity.

This attitude is driving women bonkers: “I will be a fakey-fakey nice girl, and tolerate bull or he won’t propose to me”. Acting fake to keep him interested is what self help books advise you to do. But when he finally proposes, you don’t realise he means to live happily with your avatar.

One fakey-fakey friend told me a week after her dream wedding she didn’t like anything about her husband. I realised that she was pretending to be in love the entire relationship. I will never forget the day we sat down over a lunch of lamb brisket and she asked me what next steps to take because she neeeeeds him. I said, get married. They did, five months later.

I feel that a lot of women suffer because it is stressful to keep up a facade. I wonder if a therapist would prescribe medication for women to get through the fakery? But is it medication we need or might it not be compassion for ourselves and for other women? Every time we pretend to be okay with his annoying habits, we nurture another grass fed nincompoop.

A man bragged to me that he’d written a comment on his law professor’s blog, who then used his first name in response. I said, “You’re a grown man. Why are you happy about being patted on the head like a small child? Instead of writing comments on your professor’s blog, consider writing a book of your own.”

Your boyfriend might not want to write a book, but without being rude, show him where he needs to set a high standard for himself as a person. If he doesn’t make the effort and you don’t like what is in front of you, let go.


fiction men women


Make sure to hold down the home button.

Why are you ugly, green pepper faced fifty seven year old woman, hanging on this beautiful man?! What is special about you?! Disappear, and be gone!

That service is not available.

You have no attractive point!!!

Is this a new photo?

Yes. You can’t be photographed from the front …

Make sure to take a screen shot. Activate Siri first, and then talk to the photo, pay attention to the wave. When it stops, tap the mike icon again.

Okay, got it. You can’t be photographed from the front, you can only do a side by profile! You so ugly, I can’t stand your fat pig face!!! Why did you tell him you need five more years to divorce your husband? You’re married, and you have children and grandchildren. How can ugly woman like you get married to someone in the first place? Why can you force control unmarried man?!

There are no search results for Marie Dorothy.

Why is he loyal to you? You are bread faced girl. You are slice bread. If you stand in front of some grapes, someone mistake you for dried up onion.

I searched Wikipedia and this is what I found.

I cannot lose my mind to this slice of mackerel. This is not right!

Mackerel slices were found in these locations in Hell’s Kitchen.

How do you feel? You want to go some more?

I’m tired. I’m busy. I want to stop this and enjoy my life. I want to just forget the two of them. They disgust me. That doctor is dirty. His aura just makes my apartment dirty. You stinky old pervert! Shut up dammit. You know, he has no fashion sense. And that blonde hard wax hairstyle is crazy. He runs a hospital but needs to take drugs to wake up, stay up, go sleep, get up, get down. What the hell is he thinking dressing like circus?

What are you going to do about him?

I’m going to use him for money. He’s useless. Did you see this eighty dollar Pandora bracelet he bought for me? He never buys me anything cost over one hundred dollars. I’m forty years old. What is he thinking I am going to do with that?

Did you let him know you were worth more than that?

He’s just useless that way. And obviously, I am not going to tell J about him. J is for love. The doctor is for money. Only. But do you know what irritates me? J is such an amazing man. He’s talented in business, has a flawless aesthetic sense. He’s a model at sixty for goodness sake.

Okay. Just go with the music and let that out.

This is J’s island near Bali. He’s got river rafts and thirty staff. How does that man make himself so small for that pancake faced ghoul?!

Have you considered that he might just be a model, a stock figure with no real power in the relationship?

Yeah, I mean, no, it’s his business.

So why is it that he cannot simply cut ties with his business partner and as her lover?

And then there’s the … I can’t really understand him. It seems meaningless that she can say to him, “Don’t talk to her and block her phone number,” and he will just do as she asked. She controls him financially.

Perhaps there is another explanation that you haven’t thought of.

I think so, and I need to find it or else these feelings will not go away. He’s the first man I told “I love you”.

Not even your ex husband?

Not even him.

Alright. Do you want to shout some more?

No, I’m tired. I’m going to be friends with him. I don’t love him anymore. I don’t give a damn.


Plato’s Groove on S/M

Guest post by Plato’s Groove: Learning to tell the truth of and to one’s own soul. I thank PG very much for allowing me to post his comment on S/M (a critique of the Fifty Shades of Grey film) as a standalone post. I spliced two verses from his poem AWAKE throughout the reflection. Please visit his blog to hear it read. When men are able to listen to us women speak about what we need and want for ourselves without being defensive, there is light in the world. Be well, SB.

My thoughts on the dynamic interplay between power and the people
by Plato’s Groove

I’m not a prude but the plot of the thing [the film, Fifty Shades of Grey] seems a bit twisted. I’ve heard women say when the first one was out that you needed and man or a dildo close by when you read it. I did not have either.

I did not at first understand the attraction of a rich little boy so scared that needed to totally control a woman to feel safe. I understood the fear in the guy but not how it could be so seductive to women. But then I see the themes played out every week working with addicts and domestic violence. I deal with scared little boys and the women who are so needy and fearful that they surrender their bodies and souls even their own children to the power of the dominant one.

Distraction provides just temporary satisfaction.
But your heart knows the Truth. Your heart knows the Truth.
Awake from the incantation, seek the Incarnation.
The Light shines in the darkness.
Let It shine on you.

The thing that goes unspoken many times is that there is power and a sense of security in the submission. The submissive ones are benefiting from the arrangement in some way or they would not stay. They are trying to save him but not out of love. It is the desire to save him so that she can finally be loved. But she gets to play the victim role at times and culture may not hold her accountable. Their is always a yin and yang. If he is insecure and and fearful she is too. If he has a need to control so does she and it is just as devious. The patterns match or there would be no fit.

This whole thing seems to glamorize that pattern by glossing it over with lots of orgasms. The meth heads I work with have lots of hot sex too. And they talk about it a lot. Hearing women talk about this very private thing in public is akin to that to me. Not in a judgmental way: Their preferences are not my business. But my emotional reaction was the same. I am a little embarrassed for them. My impulse is to cover the nakedness they don’t realize is apparent.

I think hot sex, like Tony the Tiger says, is “Grrrrreat!” I understand that sexual preferences and patterns can be healing and redemptive as people learn to be who they are. I have no problem or business in that place between what happens there. But this is a cultural current running through our collective consciousness. What have been the results of this latest craze besides boosting dildo and bondage equipment sales? Are people more confident and fulfilled? Are women more empowered? Where are the feminist in this discussion? Are men more confident? Or has the culture been nudged just a bit toward that which will not set them free.

Caesar has no love for you, you’re a number on a page.
Doctrine is a guide, but its just trappings on the stage.
Life is calling you to wake up (now).
Shake off the webs they weave.
Step into Reality, become more than you (can) conceive.

There is a sense of freedom is the drug addict too. For a while they exist in a place where practicing their addiction feels like freedom and being who they are. It is an exhilarating ride till they end up getting pimped out and in bondage to that which can not set them free. There is always intention behind anything that happens in the media. There are powers which benefit from the bondage of the masses.

This story (50 Shades of Grey) seems to be a perfect metaphor of the dynamic interplay between power and the people. It was just another whisper suggesting “Go back to sleep. It’s OK. This is how it should be. Don’t it feel good? We will take care of you as long as you are our slaves.”

men women

Emily Thorne

Emily Thorne

So, Jack told Emily:

You have to know that there’s someone out there that’s a better fit for you (me).
I realise that my timing’s terrible.
I can’t watch you be with anyone else.
I don’t know what the future holds.
I have one certainty in life and it’s how I feel about you.
It’s always been you.
Life is messy. You find a way.

Season 4, Episode 15 of Revenge, “Kindred” (Abridged)

What happens after you say, “yes” to a declaration like this. Is there a next? Does anyone out there have a clue? I’ve rearranged the words so the outcome reads the way things normally go, after you declare yourself to your soulmate. Your soulmate will say…

Realise I have to watch for a way.
I feel in the future, I’ll find a messy, terrible someone.
Anyone else. Can’t be you.

That person will fit me better.



POSSIBLE TRIGGER(≧∇≦)This post discusses suicide threats.

I happened on a post by a Presser who stated, “Need to end this all. This blog, this life, this everything. Nothing’s worth it.” I wrote in her comments in these exact words:

“I can’t believe you’re going to give up right now because you messed up? If you know you made some mistakes it means there’s a human being in there. Frustration means you’re right on target to a breakthrough. You need a hand? Ask for it! Everyone’s “hand” looks different but whatever you need, I trust that you do have the support you need to pull through. Get mad but by all means, get changed.”

What do I mean by get changed? Organically, there might be something that’s pulling you towards an outcome that’s good for your well being. Anger and frustration are internal mechanisms for focusing you away from counterproductive behaviors or attitudes. Those negative feelings are telling you that you’ve overlooked something important. Easier to say than to swallow. Exactly. And these things take time: They’re part of a process.

The Presser might come over here and see this, and it’s fine. I felt compelled to write this post after reading that and hearing this same sentiment just hours before, from another woman. She said she might die by the end of March. When I said, no one is planning on executing you, she said, “I might do it myself.” I take all suicide threats seriously. If they’re on blogs and they’re in front of me, I say something to the author. To be clear, and I’m not saying that this is the case here, but saying you’re going to “get out” in order to get attention is super double plus uncool.

I think I’m a compassionate human being, but I was angry at the way this last statement was tossed out. You’re so hooked on being a married woman that rather than get a divorce, death is a reasonable option? I asked her if she didn’t see the wealth of opportunities in front of her. I enumerated them.

Lastly, I told her to go and find herself a pair of sequined shorts and grab a younger, cuter, taller, buffer volleyballer. Shag each other rotten. Take away your estranged husband’s power to belittle you and grind you into the dirt. Choose to feel like a woman who is desired. I don’t care if she’s technically still married. Don’t get on my nerves with your sanctimonious horse bullocks. Elvis has left the building and is shacking up with Elvira. They’re traveling together. He bought her a house. She drives his Mercedes. Their digital schedules are synced.

“NO ONE UNDERSTANDS THE PAIN. NO ONE.” That’s partially true. No one might understand your pain, as it is tailor made for you. However, we all understand pain. I saw a beautiful painting today by an artist who was crying as she painted it. I said I only saw a joyful celebration of colors. I was lifted by it, and by the time she responded to my comment, she was feeling a lot better. The pain hasn’t all gone away. Maybe she’ll feel awful later. So be it. My point being, we all heal differently, and some of us are more effective at using it than others.

I’m taking myself out of the equation now, and not making this about how I will feel. For your own sake, say, “I’m struggling and I don’t know how to cope.” That’s honest, real and very much a situation to which I can respond, “What do you need?” Or make suggestions yourself, “I need attention. I need reassuring words. I need you to tell me off.”

I’m not naive; nothing’s fixable with a hug, a chat and a cup of tea, but I’m an advocate of feeling your feelings and allowing them to overwhelm you. No medication, drugs, wine, smiley faces or compensating. You’re a human being. Pain is painful, and that’s kind of the point.


Reader response to X

Guest post by Beatrice Lewis of A House of Secrets.

Women have a wonderful instinct about things.
They can discover everything except the obvious.”
Oscar Wilde

Where do I begin? This [post] was a great summation of what disarray the state of “Womenry” is from what you’ve been reading on blogs; I too have seen the same written material over and over on very popular “help” sites. I’ve never seen myself look at the men in my life as “prizes,” nor the gifts they’ve given, rings, and such; perhaps I’ve equated them to a gift of payment for dealing with their crap; although I always refund the “money.”

I don’t quite understand the concept that men are “mine.” From my prior experience with my “best friend” turned stalker; I found myself acting or performing a role of vigilante wanting to protect other women from him taking them down too; because I was “his,” I was his property in his mind with exorbitant expectations placed on me. I would never want this placed on someone else.


Who am I? And after three attempts of self-sacrificing and staying in a toxic place; I realized it wasn’t my job to protect other women from this guy, but what I could do was tell my story and let other women take whatever tool I could give them to shed some light on their own personal situations.

I considered my story horrific in terms of how humans treat each other (outside other horrific crimes). I was very naïve to mental illness, mental instability, and grand manipulation; I thought I was smart enough to protect myself against falling into a victim role. And when everyone tried to warn or protect me; I was selfish, went against the grain, trying to prove I could ride in and “save” or “protect” a person with my magnificent powers. I laugh out loud when I think of this. Oh, when will we stop lying to ourselves?

As a teenager, I spent a lot of my time testing my mother on boys. I would ask, “What if he was black, what if he was Asian, what if he was Mexican, what if he was in a band?” And on and on I would test her. Her response every time was, “As long as he was good to you, treated you well, and doesn’t hurt you, it doesn’t matter “what” he is.”

My mother had always taught us, people are people. Men, women, kids, etc., we’re all just human beings, we are not “owned” by anyone, even parents don’t “own” their kids. I’ve also learned from many men I’ve dated that the line of respect falls into our humanness.

Accept those, as you would want to be accepted. Respect space, time, character, morals, values, and beliefs, and in return the right person you choose to be with will most likely grant you the same respect. Mostly men, have set society governance’s, ideas, and formulations of how women should behave; hence Feminism, but even feminism gets it wrong because once again feminism divides us, by color, ethnicity, gender, etc., etc; it does not unite women as human beings.

My experience finding even girl friends have been terrible because I don’t fall into their “ideals” of how we should act. If I’m gonna gossip, I’ll write; if I’m gonna compete, I’ll play a sport; and if I’m really hard up for that ring, I work, I can buy it; and if I want a partner, I want a side-kick. I’ve just wasted 14 years of my life on drama. It’s too short for me to waste 14 more, so I write. I’m trying to figure my life out. I’m leaning to go back to the things that I love, and learning to love myself all over again. There are hard choices I had to make and it means I’ve left behind quite a few people. It was necessary to leave some men and women behind.

:::—-::: (^_^) :::—-:::

I thank Beatrice Lewis at A House of Secrets for taking the time to press it out. I read her blog with a great deal of interest so I knew this response would merit its own space. Her essay is a response to my statement in X: “I still can’t understand dating as a concept. Let me blame it on how I was raised. I’ve always related to men as people and not as a potential someone or other. I’ve always just organically … You know what? I’m usually busy doing something.” Any other takers? Be brave, I’m waiting for you. Thank you for reading, SB.

men women



Remember that feeling you had, when you first saw his face and
his presence told you he was the essence of Earth, Wind and Fire?
Soul music blasts in your ear and then when he smiles,
you hear Maurice White belting out the refrain to that song.
Just the chorus.
It’s 1985.
You’re at 3:37 and can’t focus for eleven more seconds.
Out of breath, you catch yourself as he’s talking, mid sentence.
You haven’t heard a word he’s said.
Have you ever had your circuits shorted out by someone?
It’s not a yearning or a need.
It’s a statement.
It’s sustainable, even if unrequited.
It’s not love.
It’s a soulful reprise.
Resonance of the highest order.
I hope you meet someone who feels that way about you someday.
I hope you’ll want them just the same. 



The majority of subscribers to this blog are men, so I write under a heavy cloud because I’m not actually talking about them. I’m talking about the types of men that women subscribers are talking about. So, you lovely gentlemen can relax.

I’ve been reading a lot of reflections and conversations around subscribers’ blogs and I realise that many women are on the same page. Instead of being mean spirited or competitive with each other over who can get the best boys, women who have certain relationship issues in common need to participate in more conversations with each other.

You know how you get, when you’re in a relationship and he’s your boyfriend and he’s your prized possession and you have that smug expression on your face? “Poor single women. They’re so sad and they have no sex lives.” They’re camels. I read that last comment somewhere on WordPress. How rude, as if sex were a “must do.” Asexuality is an orientation, too. And so is choice.

What I’m seeing on blogs is the backside of the promised reality. At the reverse of smug, self satisfied expressions, I see that women have been feeding and caring for some lunkheads. Our continued attention to certain personality types has encouraged these men to feel that choosing to be in a relationship with us is the best thing they could ever do to validate us as women. It is within their power to recognise us as desirable creatures. Our infinite patience with their indifference, emotional incontinence and wishy washiness has turned those types of men into rotten little beans.

I still can’t understand dating as a concept. Let me blame it on how I was raised. I’ve always related to men as people and not as a potential someone or other.

My ideal partner would be a culinary artist who is obsessed with making ceramic pots and works as a carpenter in his free time. Or, a surgeon who’s looking into patients’ insides all day and has lectures at mid week and asks me to read his papers before publishing them. Busy with his hands or mind, having real responsibilities. Zero time to muck about. Too tired to wreak havoc in my life.

When I landed on my planet, expatriate women didn’t even have conversations with men. They just had intercourse with any man that looked at them sideways. The expectation was, “I like you and I’m easy, so let’s have sex.” It was a bacchanal. Two expatriates (man and woman) are right now sitting about eight feet away from me. They are talking loudly about “sleeping with people” and awarding points. They must be miserable if they have to talk at that volume in a Starbucks with small children nearby. No decorum. Nothing has changed.

I was scolded by expatriate male colleagues who told me I’m confusing the two things: Sex and love. I’m not confused. You are living with your girlfriend so why are you asking to visit my apartment?

Those free and easy women are now having issues with the men they spoiled. These men are educated, articulate, wealthy and up to ten years older. They’ve never grown up because relationships were never something to work at. A girlfriend was a sex partner with whom he shared a home and a joint bank account. A wife was a long term sex partner, now platonic friend, cook and sock washer that he owed something for her waity perseverance. That something? The Ring.

These words are going to be hard to read, but a ring is not a prize. It’s an accessory. I want women to stop acting like the Ring is the best thing that is ever going to happen to us. We must stop giving control over our circumstances to the promise of the Ring.

I received my first Ring when I was twenty two. I immediately assessed its weight in carats. Didn’t like. I promptly handed it back but took it back again half a second later when I realized that I was going to hurt his feelings. It was a ring after all. Behind my refusal was a very insensitive statement he’d made before we became exclusive. He had hinted that he was planning to live in Europe and therefore the high point would be sleeping with European women. He apologised for that gaffe near proposal time, but I knew it was damage control. When he got on the plane, I handed the ring to my sister. She lost it at a party or gave it to a friend or something.

Then, a month later he said I should not feel stresses or strains or have personal problems because imagine I’m engaged and he’s calling from Europa every morning before my daily workout to say hello and blah… Whatever.

The next day, I moved into the university’s dormitory. A friend gave me her room because she was living with her boyfriend. Three months later, I had proposals from better prospects. They were variously, incredibly good looking; fit; delicious; kinky and adventurous; considerate; sensitive; emotionally connected; wealthy; educated; well travelled; aristocrats.

I turned them all down.

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Love vs Love (2/3)

When I say I love someone, I actually do. For most people, love is a salary for a high stress job and you need to do lots of things to earn it. It’s wrapped up in some velvet purse, and it’ll only come out when the right recipient appears.

In truth, the deserving one will always remain elusive. Don’t vie for my love, you thunder and roar. This is Mount Olympus. You’ll never get there. Complete the form and submit your fingerprints for checking. Finish all the tasks on this list.

But you’ll never qualify because, as summer college flings proclaimed, “you are not a blowup doll” or “your legs are too long”. Rubbish. That’s not why. You want what you can’t get. When these boys eventually got their precious listed items, they were sorely disappointed. Out came another list, and another. More and more women were needed to make up the right one. I was overjoyed to learn of their misfortunes.

Love is not a tangible quantity. We can’t hoard it. It has to stay always at the surface or our consciousness, as an offering of goodwill to all, even those that don’t make our cotton candy, soda pop shortlists. When I love someone, I know that the more I give, the more I have left over for myself. Love is not a muscle you can touch but it needs to be stretched to places that are hard to reach: Backstabbing friends who abandon you when you’re sick, gossipy clients, untrustworthy and self obsessed colleagues, suspicious neighbours.

I got loved in spades over the past week, from people I never expected to receive it from. Last Tuesday, while recovering from an autoimmune flareup, I went to the office to organise my work projects for the year. I was carrying a heavy tote and caught my foot on a box. I tripped and slammed face first, full body weight into a doorknob. I gashed the side of my face a half inch away from my eye. My Gucci frames saved my eyesight. They don’t have a scratch on them. However, the skin on my left palm, knee and a small area near my left eye, are held together by tape. I also have to visit the hospital every day to check the healing and change bandages. Today, I’m finally able to bend my knee and move my face.

The colleagues who scraped me off the floor, who rushed me to hospital and waited patiently for me to be released, are the people I loved anyway.

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Girl, yuh gone

This is not the super fabulous popcorn movie review site, but I’ll try my best. I have been resisting the urge to watch any film not a Mission Impossible instalment, but after watching someone’s walls cave in as she was faced with a crumbling marriage, I relented. I took her to see the film Gone Girl, this afternoon.

My aim was to illustrate to her that her marriage problems were not easily fixable and that she needed to not ask her friends and family to persuade an emotionally abusive man to stay with her. It is disrespectful and he’ll definitely react against any form of emotional blackmail. He said he wanted a one year separation and I advised her to go with it, along with a detailed separation contract so that she’s not financially supporting her husband’s mistress. It’s sound advice, which is what I thought she wanted but she says its impossible to agree to be separated because they’re married. Completely twisted logic, at which point I thought I would stop giving any more advice.

Her priest, relatives, mentors and attorney have already advised her to sign off on his petition to divorce. Their message, “You’re being abused. Don’t put up with it.” I asked her what she thought of this advice and she says she’ll allow him any number of mistresses and help repay his huge debts if he stays in the marriage. This was said even as she complained that he spent her savings on a Mercedes Benz; while her husband’s Disneyland trip with another woman was marked in his calendar. Even as the repayment notices piled up in her post box, she asked everyone around her to cheer her on and guarantee results in the situation. Then she complained that he casually had breakfast, which she prepared for him, minutes before leaving with his stuff. Insane, right? Now you know why I was screaming in my head as I calmly listened to all that. Lots of women behave like this when they should be losing their patience.

As I’ve discussed in October, a woman in love is her own worst enemy. My cousin will end up in exactly this position someday, and she is already incapable of seeing her situation objectively or hearing any reasonable advice. I found the film, Gone Girl, to be underwhelming for the hype. (What is it with the US media and the silly reactions to nothing in particular?)

However, there are valuable lessons to be learned from the story. It situates the characters at the lowest point of anticlimax. They are crushed by the weight of failure, but refuse to comfort each other. As it turns out, they love their own avatars. Ben Batfleck’s character is the type of guy who demands, even believes that he is entitled to, the hottest woman in town. He believes his awesomeness will convince the woman to relinquish her right to a perspective. His every pronouncement is ambrosia, his bodily secretions are nectar.

Hotness. You don’t marry a person’s body parts. You marry their principles. This is someone you trust with your life, but most people I know are not honest enough to admit they get caught up in that checklist of physical, sociocultural and financial assets. In doing so, they ignore the seed of bigger problems that will explode in the marriage later. The mistakes are made over and over again. The lessons are never learned.

Any woman can let a man talk and talk about his dreams and visions and go along with them to win his approval. But how many men would marry a woman who says, “You deluded wanker. Find something useful to do”? Women are taught that it’s important to support a life partner no matter what, and many are prepared to lie to “get” one. Rosamund Pike’s character is interesting because she knows that her husband wants to be fed lies, and he needs to prop up his fragile ego. He’s prepared to marry a pathological, manipulative vampire in order to get his ego stroked. She needs to go darker and darker in order to maintain the first lie, which is that she thinks he’s awesome.

Lying requires a lot of energy, so when Rosamund’s resources are depleted, Ben Batfleck’s character needs a buxom young girl who is easily influenced to help him with his self esteem problem. He trains his mistress by praising her underwear. After that, he feeds her the “us” fantasy and sends her on her way, to self-delude on her own time. He lets her believe that frantic assignations in his office will guarantee his love and devotion. He should have thought of this strategy the first time around, and married a young, naïve girl. But he lied to himself in the first place, thinking he was able to take on a sophisticated, overexposed woman and force her to submit to his mediocre ideations. “I’m better than you, and I can control you,” is what he is thinking. He does not have what it takes to achieve this, because Rosamund had the jump on him from “Hello.”

The person I saw the movie with said it was a timely intervention. In the same breath, she set about creating a social media account to keep up with her husband’s mistress. Her husband got it right with her, his second time around the marriage wheel. He took advantage of her inexperience and rigid thinking. Fifteen years later, she is prepared to endure anything because her mother-in-law assured her he will come back, eventually, “dead or alive.”

Batfleck’s problem is that he’s not a smooth operator. He figured he would ask an overly pampered muse for “a divorce.” Because life’s that simple, right? Use the woman and discard her when she is straining to hold it together for you. The bulk of the film shows his acknowledgement of the fact that his freedom is fair exchange for undeserved praise. He was insane to think that any woman that was happy to go along with his delusions would not devolve into a bloodthirsty psychopath.