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Extolling the Female Tongue

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A long time ago I read a short online piece about how women could get their men to put the toilet seat down. Inherent in it was the idea that this was an example of men’s lack of consideration and that the task at hand was one of disciplining these bad boys. my attitude is that if women can leave a toilet seat down, men can leave it up.

This is just a silly, pebble-in-the-shoe issue, but I see it as a metaphor for a modern phenomenon: The casting of women’s characteristic behaviors as the norm and men’s as dysfunctional deviations.

This is strikingly obvious with the topic of communication. Man has long known that women were the more loquacious sex, and you’ve probably heard of studies to this effect. A recent book states that women have about 20,000 “communication events” a day (I love the terms psycho-babblers conjure up) versus about 7,000 for men. This is nothing new; who didn’t know a bevy of garrulous girls in school?

What is new is the assumption that this imputes superiority to women. “Communication” has become one of the buzzwords of modern psychology. Whenever relationships are at issue – be it in a book, article, talk or interview – almost invariably an “expert” will inform us of two things. One is that women communicate more than men. The other is that an onus belongs on men as this “handicap” of theirs is an impediment to good relations. Why, men need to learn to communicate more and share their feelings, we’re told.

Did anyone ever think that maybe women communicate too darn much?

Don’t get me wrong, rhetorical license aside, I understand the importance of communication. What bothers me, though, is the knee-jerk assumption here that more is better, a conclusion that most of the same researchers take great pains to forestall when the issue is, oh, let’s say, the greater size of the male brain. This is a principle of sex differences research: When men have more, more is less. When women have less, less is more.

And that’s it, more or less.

What seems to escape most is that this modern exaltation of the lip lies in stark contrast to what wisdom has taught since time immemorial. The truth she imparts is obvious, which is why sayings encapsulating it abound: “Still waters run deep,” “Empty kettles make the most noise,” “Shallow brooks are noisy” and “There are two kinds of people who don’t say much – those who are quiet and those who talk a lot.”

It’s why movies have always portrayed the strong, silent type who exhibits quiet fortitude as the most heroic of men. It’s why good writers value verbosity no more than good surgeons do bloodletting. Delicate operations warrant use of a fine scalpel, something small and sharp that punctures precisely – and cuts when necessary – not an implement bigger and blunter. This is true whether you wish to get at the heart of a man or the heart of a matter: a precise surgical approach is usually preferable. Big, blunt things are better suited to bludgeoning.

To be quite blunt myself, yes, I subscribe to the traditional idea that women are chatterboxes and it’s not their best trait. Don’t get me wrong; we men have our faults as well. For instance, I absolutely cannot stand my brothers’ habit of channel surfing, which I guess could be characterized as Chatting Finger Syndrome, but here’s the difference: Whether it’s this masculine foible or another, no one does intellectual contortions to cast it as a positive attribute. At best it’s seen as cute quirkiness, at worst as a defect of manliness.

Just imagine how it might be if incessant channel surfing was a characteristic female behavior. It would only be a matter of time before some sickologists conducted a study and portrayed it as yet another example of feminine superiority. It would go something like this:

Channel-surfing is akin to speed-reading, not a function of a fault but indicative of a unique ability. Because women have more neural connections between the two hemispheres of the brain, they can process information faster, allowing them to absorb the substance and assess the value of a given program in mere seconds. Thus, while a man may perceive just a brief snapshot of seemingly unintelligible imagery and sound, his wife has already assimilated the program’s relevant information or ascertained it to be devoid of such. “She is anxious to read the next page while he is still on the first paragraph of the last,” said Dr. Delilah Emasculata of the Sex Differences Research and Proof That Women Are Better in Every Way So Just Shut-up and Take It Institute.

The truth is that both men and women should understand their gender’s characteristic frailties and, just as with any negative proclivity, seek to tame them. Hey, I always ask directions and I’m great at matching colors.

As for communication, I have some of the best advice you gals will ever hear. If you have something important to say, don’t embed it in an interminable stream-of-consciousness monologue between words 1129 and 1145 and expect the man in your life to absorb it. It’s not that he doesn’t care; he has his sanity to think about, you know.

My mother used to teach us “Speech is silver, silence is golden.” I wouldn’t expect anyone to learn much while channel surfing in fully automatic mode. Tongue surfing isn’t much better.

Loquacity doesn’t denote sagacity.

Oh, and the toilet seat? I just don’t want to talk about it.

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About Selwyn Duke

  • Zedd

    I will. Must have been the BIG thing. Thanks.

  • Ms Zedd: Firstly, welcome back! Secondly, please be most careful when inserting html code into comments as any error can have unforeseen consequences throughout the site…


    The Comments Editor

  • Zedd

    I was chided by a few people on BC for saying that a blogger was womanish. He was constantly following me from thread to thread, yapping away at NOTHING. His gabs had no real direction, he was just spilling out all over the place, taking comments out of context and jabbing ineffectively. It was beyond eye rolling. It was like having a chihuahua bite your pant leg and you just progressing as if nothing was happening, dragging it along. I think he thought we were engaged in a debate :o)

    While I am quite feminine, I have never liked that aspect of my gender, while I have and do engaged in it especially when I am tired, like a fussy baby. Sometimes I do it on purpose when I’m in annoy mode :o). I know it drives men nuts, especially when the gab has lots of questions infused into it…GLORIOUS!! I think its like you guys sitting in front of a football game with a beer. I’m all fuzzy and sleepy and he’s right there comfortably rested deep into dense mode, it bugs me (for no reason), ripe for the picking, I start (HALELUYA!!!) I let loose. The pitch is just an octave higher and I feel euphoric. He is nervous because he feels as if he has to pay attention or else some woman thing will happen, like I will bring it up later. HE HE HE. I am talking a million miles a minute pausing only to say “what do you think. Off course his answer is wrong or dumb in my glorious state. I am in heaven and no one can stop me…. EXCELSIOR!! No topic is safe!!! I then wind down like a long distance jogger. I am spent but exillerated, and by then he is just a stone of emptiness, beaten down. :OD I know there is nothing left to torture so I say, Oh honey, I am sorry, I’ve been talking your head off havent I (hes scared to answer, hes just making incoherent sounds), ooooh come here (head to the bossom). I rub gently and you know guys, his mind goes somewhere special and he is revived. I then say “nite nite”! Poor Hubbies of the world :o). Its great! I rarely indulge but when I do, oh sweet serenity. I sleep like a baby nightly for 3days in a row.

    However, there are those who do it subconsciously, all day. They actually think they have important opinions to share, in this state. I tend to ignore or dismiss (I have to admit) women who are like that.

    I was berated as hating my gender for acknowledging that that guy was womanish. One woman who was yapping away at me on BC about it, got emotional and went off topic. :O) I didn’t bother to explain why I said it because it would have gone over both the yappy female and yappy males heads. I had to take a break from BC for a couple of days so that they would calm down. Funny stuff.

  • Zedd

    Great article

    Needed to be said.

    I think that the gender differences are not celebrated enough. I like being female. It is wonderful! I also love males. I love the denseness coupled with the unwarranted confidence (which is cute) and the determination that men over 40 tend to have. I love the contrasts. Those same traits can be annoying but overall they are fun to observe.

  • supernova_kitten and others: I think this little conversational detour has wandered far enough from the golden path inspired by Selwyn Duke’s original article so let’s draw a line under this particular conversational strand and move on. Thanks. The Comments Editor.

  • supernova_kitten


    I noticed I made an error…It was a year and two weeks between my being his “wife” and being a former, vague relationship.

    In the case of the earlier remark, one could argue that the comment was about me since he was still married to someone else (and still is). The divorce proceedings outlasted our relationship.

    However I know I am the “wife” he spoke of in 2005. I do think Dave Grohl is cute. I like the Foo Fighters. I think they made some very entertaining videos.

    Duane’s “real” wife, on the other hand, doesn’t even know who Dave Grohl or Trent Reznor are.

    What his wife and I do share in common is our thorough dislike of the same, very toxic man.

    Now, let me wrap this all up by saying that, as a woman, I can recognize what is being discussed. And true to form, Duane, in his inability to communicate directly, has used this forum as a kind of perverse avenue to taunt and belittle me.

    Sad, I actually thought we were friends at the time I moved back to Oregon. I should have known better by the passive-aggressive note he wrote in a birthday card which was given to me the day I moved. The note was a combination of false kindness (“you deserve to be happy”) and snottiness (“good riddance, you might say”)…really? I didn’t say that…he did!

    If the guy had decent communication skills, these comments wouldn’t even be here.


  • Melita Teale

    Kitten, since I don’t know you, feel free to ignore me. But you’ve already moved to get away from this person; maybe you’ve done other things to drive a stake through the heart of the relationship – there’s nothing like a good solid month of vindictive shit. But as much as you’ve been hurt and as much as you may feel that needs to be addressed somehow, you reacting publicly to such silly anonymous sniping shows him he still has the ability to manipulate you, even when he’s hiding impotently behind a computer.

    If he still has that ability, you shouldn’t let him know it. And if he still has that power, it’s YOUR business; something you have to deal with in your own head. Try making a voodoo doll, manipulating it (hard) – and then forgiving it. I’m not talking out of my ass; if you’re telling the truth I know exactly where you’re coming from. You aren’t free from manipulation until you forgive. There’s a reason it comes before “forget” in the saying. Alright, sorry for the lecture. Carry on.

  • supernova_kitten

    And to Nancy:

    Thank you for putting it so eloquently.

    The problem is, there are lots of men who lack communication skills. They may have a decent vocabulary and plenty of ideas, but can still be utterly clueless because they fail to actively listen.

    Then they have to come to places like Blogcritics to vent their frustrations.

  • supernova_kitten


    With reference to comment #24:

    How do I know?

    I’ll tell you how I know. There are references to me plastered all over Blogcritics…to quote a few:

    Note that I was his “wife” on Aug 12, 2005, but a vague reference as a former relationship less than two weeks later.

    #63 — August 12, 2005 @ 18:38PM — Duane
    Good Lord, I must be getting old. What is the difference between hunky and hot?

    Also, my wife is nuts about certain rock stars, and I don’t mean because of their music. I don’t get it. What’s the deal with being attracted to:

    Dave Grohl (Foo Fighters)
    Marilyn Manson (Marilyn Manson)
    Trent Reznor (Nine Inch Nails)
    David Bowie (you know)


    Jake Gyllenhall (sp?) (the Donnie Darko guy)

    Opinions please?”

    #114 — August 25, 2006 @ 14:40PM — duane
    “I had a 3-year relationship with a woman who is a teacher. It didn’t work out after all that. Teachers are all the same. Therefore, I will never date a teacher again. They are not good for long-lasting relationships.”

    I know because I LIVED WITH HIM FOR TWO YEARS. He turned out to be a very two-faced person. He was practically unable to express emotion face-to-face, and writing was–and still is–the way he gets his hostility and hatred out.

    All I have to do is pull up the index of the 1500 + comments he’s left here, and sure enough, his pissiest remarks coincide with a period of trouble between us.

    The comments started coming more frequently and became uglier at the start of this year, when it turns out he was entertaining some malignant insecurity and jealousy over someone I dated after I broke up with him.

    Trust me, I know.

    But oops…I should take great care here…image is everything to the man.


  • Nancy

    Women wouldn’t have to talk so much if men would just learn to listen.

  • Melita Teale

    Supernova_kitten, how do you know that comment was about you? Was he a virgin or something?


  • ProfEssays

    Yes, women are inclined to twaddle a lot about nothing

  • supernova_kitten

    Pardon the typographical error: it should have read
    THE final analysis.
    For that matter, pardon all of my typos. I was fairly seething when I wrote this, but I am not stupid.

  • supernova_kitten

    I didn’t particularly get a big kick out of posting that somewhat depersonalized letter on Blog Critics. And I wouldn’t have, either had you not come out of nowhere spitting venom. And now it’s come to pass that you’ve brought out my worst–at least where you’re concerned.

    Duane, after all this time, you don’t even know me. Thus, you are in absolutely no position to write of me to a bunch of faceless strangers. Perhaps this is your way of talking down not about me, but to me. Perhaps you are acting like some kind of a “big guy” on this forum, now that I’ve informed you of my presence.

    You know the only reason I even decided to visit this site was because I wanted you to know how it feels to receive what you dished out to me…searching the hard drive of my computer, trolling the internet to find, and then read my blog journals…and then lying to my face that you hadn’t.

    And there you are, projecting a personality that’s imperious, cynical, and narrow-minded and an absolute know-it-all. I never liked that Blog Critic side of you. I saw how much time and energy you placed into always trying to win, wanting to be the smartest, the coolest, the most musically inclined…but the worst part was has been the sheer arrogance. There’s something almost loud about the “written” Duane. It is a stark contrast to a rather uptight, withdrawn man who almost mumbles when he speaks. The Duane with the flat AFFECT (it is a noun, not a verb–know this before you haughtily try to tell others to use a dictionary). The “real life” Duane is the one who, by what you’ve told me, evokes “negative” or “unfriendly” responses from strangers at the gas station and the supermarket.

    But who cares, really? You once demonstrated a decent personality to me, although I find myself wondering if that was even the “real” you. I find it hard to reconcile, this Duane who’s claimed to be a “nice guy” who always takes “the high road”…and yet there’s something of a time bomb ticking underneath that polite exterior.

    There’s the Duane who keeps score, the one who, although he claims to love, is quick to gather as much “material” as he can find in some kind of attempt to overpower, shame and humiliate this woman he once claimed to “love”. Yeah, I get mad, I get downright rude, but it’s always, always clear that it’s a reaction to something insensitive, cold, or just plain mean. There’s emotion on my face and in my voice. It’s obvious that I am enraged.

    You, however, use a deadly form of abuse, one intended to degrade. It’s been my impression all along that you’ve had a real case of “sour grapes”…what you cannot have, you try to turn to shit…not just in your own eyes…you can’t leave it at that…I’ve lost count of the number of times you’ve set out to convince me that I am worthless. You get on Blog Critics (in a manner identical to the way you did, in a letter you sent to me, supposedly written to another third party), and proceed to distort me…what are you, anyway?

    So here I am, this supposed blabbermouth who rambles on and yet has nothing to say. Is that really so? Let me speak for myself. If everyone else thinks I’m convoluted and illogical, at least let it be by my own ranting that they arrive at this conclusion.

    It was outlandish is the way you conducted your little “investigations” and then made determinations based upon the interpretation by an almost tragic inner voice of true insecurity. The conclusions you drew, you drew from a few bits of information…the portraits you painted were twisted and untrue…rather than to ask, or to express your feelings, you attempted to TELL me the “truth” about myself in a punitive tone, devoid of emotion…you’ve spoken in a combination of cold, clinical “objectivity” mixed with a kind of fire-and-brimstone judgment. It pushed me away. Try as I wanted (and I DID try), I was simply and increasingly unable to feel truly close to you as time went on.

    Yes, at one time I did (figuratively and literally) let you inside of me. It was not a conscious effort on my part to keep you out. God only knows the way you reacted to it only served to exacerbate the problem.

    It’s curious that you’ve never been examined by a mental health professional, and yet you’ve referred to me as “crazy”…who are you to dictate what’s normal and what isn’t? I doubt you really know yourself, and yet there you’ve been, trying to tell me who–and what–I am. Just as certain as I am that I’m alive and breathing, I know you do not know me. You seem to be incapable of interpreting emotions as they are conveyed to you. Your words have caused me to regret ever confiding in you, ever trusting you, ever longing, loving or even thinking of you. I find myself regretting that I ever let you touch me; I find myself wishing I’d never met you, and even more so that I ever sent that goddamned letter to you in December, 2002.

    You are so utterly out of touch with what’s been in my heart, that I could kick myself for ever allowing you there in the first place. Rather than becoming a better person for having spent time with you, I’ve only wound up battered inside.

    You don’t deserve to know any of this. You don’t deserve the privilege of being told that, contrary to your over-the-top description of the one brief, almost-relationship I had after we split up, I’ve been avoiding the whole “dating scene”. Post-you, I no longer feel “good enough” for someone worth knowing. I dwell in a state of conflict: torn between wanting happiness and believing I’m unworthy of it.

    I wish that I could destroy every written word, picture, card…anything at all that has anything to do with you…and in so doing, erase you from my past and cast you out of my memory.

    I know I can do the former, but it’s not realistic to do the latter.

    It is my hope that over time, you and your words and everything I ever said, did, feel and share with you, everything you ever said to me and did with me will one day be little more than a blip on the radar.

    I feel violated.

    Thus, rather than to allow you to twist what I say into something for your alter-ego to use to gain attention here, I am speaking for myself. Behind your little quips is a real human being, not some silly creature for you to exploit for entertainment.

    It’s a shame to know that, in fee final analysis; this is all that’s left.

    A true waste of time is evidenced by finding me wishing I could change the past.


    To the other members of Blog Critics:

    You may ban me. But please, just let this post stay here long enough for Duane to read. Let others read it as well so they may judge for themselves.

    Sure, this is brazen. I imagine it’s also fascinating; much in the same way driving past an auto accident compels one to look.

    Maybe it might cause some people to feel uncomfortable.

    However, due to the candor with which I write, this is probably “juicier” than a bunch of insensitive words put together by a spurned and bitter man…

    Judge for yourselves whether or not I blather on but truly have nothing to say.

    People may think what they want, but the truth still remains: I am more than one-dimensional, I am sincere, and I have the courage to speak from the heart.

    I believe this is a far cry from “having nothing to say”.

  • Melita Teale

    Not to mention the feng shui issues of an open toilet, you naughty, naughty men.

    Selwyn, I think men being strong and silent was a more useful when they had to go out and hunt or murder rivals while women gathered and yelled at each other over where the best mushrooms were or about how they shouldn’t let each other’s babies totter over cliffs.

    Maybe the reason such strong, silent type behaviour isn’t desired as a norm anymore is because most Western men who use their strength and silence these days don’t do it to hunt or murder rivals, but instead to park in front of television sets/computer monitors like slow-growing tumours.

  • Nancy

    Just for the record, far more men than women tend to forget to FLUSH – yet another reason to put the seat down, since doing so reminds you not to leave your souveniers for others to see.

  • SonnyD

    STM: Just giving you a hard time. But, if you think you are ever going to train a woman to do anything, let me know how that works out for you.

  • SonnyD

    Duane: Eh! I’m just playing around for the fun of it. I raised two daughters and sometimes accused them of satisfying the requirements for homesteading while they were in there.

  • Faustus

    Great article.

    Re: The casting of women’s characteristic behaviors as the norm and men’s as dysfunctional deviations.

    The pendulum swings.

    Neither side will be happy until all the behavioral differences are obliterated.

    Then everyone will be sad and long for the good old days.

    Vive le difference.

  • STM

    Sonny wrote: “STM: What are you, a paperweight whose main function is to hold the couch cushions down? You say you “complied with most female requests…”, then named a few chores you should have been doing without being asked.”

    Yeah, sorry Sonny, I forgot to add washing the cars to that list. Oh, and working six days a week, including 14 hours on a Saturday, while everyone else in the family swans off to the beach.

  • duane

    I was wrong, SonnyD. I guess you did find someone to argue with. Here’s something worthwhile to argue about. Women who take forever in the bathroom and won’t let you come in to shower for work until they’re ‘presentable.’

  • won’t be sold short by a balding old fort

    Submitted for your approval, things women sometimes have to stay awake through:

    A few words have been changed to keep it all in good fun.

    —–Original Message—–
    From: Dingleberry Dweedle email addy removed
    Sent: Monday, November 14, 2005 7:19 PM
    To: Woman who moved 700 miles to get away from me
    Subject: let’s tie the knot

    Object of My Paranoid Ranting,

    Please stay with me and be my wife.

    I will get on Jicama Stick’s ass gasket and get the divorce papers finalized.

    I will give you the commitment that you wanted.

    It’s not that I don’t want to be alone. I want to be with you.

    I want to help you with wanting to jump out of a window. The part of it that has been because of me, I swear, it will disappear.

    We can work this out. Deep down, I think you want to also.

    We can move if you want. New scenery can work wonders.

    I will always love you.

    We can clear this shoobydoo up and we can find happiness with each other. Who cares if it’s not the way we pictured it.

    It will still be good.

    Don’t worry about woohoo. It is not as important as being with you. Maybe someday that will be restored. Don’t worry about it for now.
    I don’t care. That list was my mindset about 2 years ago. It’s history. It’s archaeology. Things change. I’m happy just to hear you call me Bahoonga with that big smile of yours.

    You will see me change, once all the tension is washed away. Things will be new and exciting again. I will lose weight and start working out. But I won’t wear a toupe. Sorry.

    Once we get married, we can go for gender reassignment, if you want.

    My financial situation is about to make a big
    improvement. Just today, just for starters, I took Hatbox off my insurance. Once the child support gets cut down, we will be able to have
    a little more financial room. We can do stuff
    together. I will buy new clothes. You can start builiding up your accounts again in case your kids need assistance.

    Play Tiddlywinks all you want. As long as I understand what’s going on, I don’t care. If you play Tiddlywinks to avoid me, you won’t have to anymore. It’s me, guldurnit.

    Think about the things you once liked about me.
    They’re still there, and I can bring that guy back. I just had to get used to Us. I’m ready now.

    My family will be heartbroken if you go. You will fit in nicely, and they will be good for you.

    Give me books to read about wanting to jump out a window. I’m ready to be enlisted as your best and closest ally in fighting this thing I will be there for you.

    Give me the chance to be the Dingleberry that you once loved.

    Lets get married. I will be with you forever. I will be at your side through good times and bad.



  • SonnyD

    STM: What are you, a paperweight whose main function is to hold the couch cushions down? You say you “complied with most female requests…”, then named a few chores you should have been doing without being asked.

    Here’s a little project for you STM, ask your wife, or whoever, to make a list of all the household chores she does and then add to the list all the things she does to wait on you or to please you – like watching movies or TV that you like, etc. Then set aside some time to read that list because it’s going to take a while. (don’t ask me how I know) Then put the dad-blamed toilet seat down. It won’t break your arm, Crybaby.

  • STM

    Yes, Sonny, this is precisely the problem. Women believe men need to learn to leave the seat down, but having complied with most female requests in my house – go up for take-away, feed the dog, take out the garbage, mow the lawn and stack the dishwasher – I’m buggered if I’m going to add that to the list.

    It comes down to who is right and who is wrong, and it’s really a question of perception.

    My perception of it all is that women need to learn to leave the bloody seat up. Getting a cold bum is a lot better than having to clean up a river of wayward pee in the middle of the night.

  • SonnyD

    STM: If you think you have problems, consider this. Suppose you have had a few(?) beers, that will assure that you will be up during the night. Then assume the beers are still talking and you just don’t give a Sh** and don’t bother to raise the seat. Then you discover that, not only did someone put the seat down, but, also, lowered the lid. I leave it to your imagination, but guarantee you will wake up real fast.

  • STM

    I think it’s absolutely disgraceful that women can’t learn to leave the toilet seat UP …. the whole thing is fraught.

    For instance, you wake up in the middle of the night and head for the loo. My ai8m is pretty good and I prefer not to use the light as I have trouble getting back to sleep.

    Any inconsiderate women in the house (and there’s a few) who have been there before me have likely put the toilet seat down, which means in your semi-awake state you are either hitting the wrong target or, having been caught out previously, forced to fiddle arse around in the middle of the night putting the seat back up – where it belongs.

    Women need to understand there’s a reason why men leave the seat up.

  • SonnyD

    D’oh: Just how would one go about writing the article you were expecting?

  • duane

    Hey, SonnyD. Yep. Except there’s no one here worth arguing with. Although it’s still not clear whether it was worth arguing with the famous composer and his alter-ego. But I learned a lot from you guys.

    D’oh, I’ve heard of that.

  • SonnyD

    Duane: The terrible, terrifying, triumvirate strikes again.

  • SonnyD

    Selwyn, about the toilet seat, let’s do talk about it. Try this experiment, some night suppose you have a sudden, urgent call of nature. You hurry into the bathroom and don’t bother to turn on the light. Drop your pants and plop down where the seat is supposed to be. You know, someone is always putting that thing down, aren’t they? You will have an instant, disorienting feeling of free-fall before you encounter the shock of the cold, damp china bowl. In addition, if you have a slim build, there is the possibility you will also be treated to an unpleasantly cold sitz bath. Remember, you were in a hurry to get there, but now you must rise, lower the seat and reposition yourself before you can complete the mission, right? It only takes one time like this for you to understand why the female members of your household request the seat be left in the down position. They have probably had this happen several times. Besides, it’s only a matter of common courtesy to comply with such a simple request from someone who is supposed to be the most important person in your life.

    Now, on the main subject of your article; if my mother was awake, she was talking. I just don’t want to talk about it!

  • And here I had thought the article was going to be about the joys of fellatio.

    Color me disappointed…

  • I’m calling your wife

    Duane, personal attacks are NOT allowed. I don’t go around telling everyone how you had dreams about me and upon awakening you got out the lotion…oops. Nevermind. TMI. To visualize that could turn one to a pillar of salt.

  • supernova_kitten

    Do cross-dressers count? Like a man who wears women’s pants?

  • duane

    Dr. Delilah Emasculata

    Hehehe …

    If you have something important to say, don’t embed it in an interminable stream-of-consciousness monologue between words 1129 and 1145 and expect the man in your life to absorb it.

    No shit. I used to know this woman who sometimes had a point to make but would take me on a guided tour of her life before getting to it. The first dozen times or so that this happened it was kind of cute and quirky. But after hearing the same story for the hundredth time, it just got tiresome. And it makes for such a one-sided conver … er … soliloquy. She came off as being thoroughly entranced by the sound of her own voice, and presumed that I was, too. True communication requires the recognition that the world extends beyond that little patch of real estate in your head that connects your brain to your mouth.

    But I digress …