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Fantasy Man

The 'Glasses Apostle' in the altarpiece of the...
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Don’t tell anyone will ya? I’ve always had a fetish for the geek; the guy with slightly skewed fashion sense, and brains galore.

The really sexy guys are the ones who can lay you out with their scars and leave you breathless as they skirt every last inch of your body with their hunger, not the ones you dominate because they need to be reigned in a little.

Don’t get me wrong here fellas. Women don’t want some mess of insecurity or a homeless guy on their hands, but they do want a man who would appreciate a woman’s touch.

There is an undeniable sexiness about a man who is competent. On the other hand, there is no bigger turn off than being with a man who has to do everything bigger and better than you can.  Competence with a window of opportunity for a woman’s touch is a nice compromise.

This little rant is brought to you courtesy of Leonardo DiCaprio‘s sexy mug on the cover of  the October issue of GQ. Manliciously staring at me from under his ever-concerned brows, wrapped in a snug pea coat, I could hardly leave his image stranded there on the rack. $5.99 later, sweet Leo was at home on my chesterfield.

Leo wasn’t  perfect though you see. It was the subtle imperfection that caught my eye (subconsciously maybe, but eye-catching still). Even a man as accomplished and intelligent as Mr. DiCaprio he was, underneath his stylish coat and turned up collar, wearing a rumpled tee.  Above the well-groomed skin and hair, the voice of that tee screamed to my  x chromosome, “I’m all man, and there’s room for a woman in my life…”, or something like that.

This weekend I shared a conversation with a gentleman whom I had made the acquaintance of at least once or twice before. There was something oddly attractive about him, and I couldn’t quite put my finger on it until I flipped through the pages of GQ. 

Like other issues, the pages unravelled countless instructions and tips about how to be a man. There were instructions for making a bed so a woman would want to come back to it, how to pack a carry-on, and which eye-glass frames would create the ideal persona.

That was it!  His eyeglasses. That’s what must have subconsciously whispered “geeky-sexy” to me while I talked to this guy. His glasses looked like something that survived 1977, and needed retirement. They matched his blue and white plaid sport coat. Does anyone even know what a sport coat is any more? Anyway, the guy was intelligent – a doctor of medicine nonetheless – friendly, and knew how to carry a conversation and, he could have used a little TLC. Perfect.

I caught myself fantasizing about putting my glasses on him,  getting him a tousled up hair cut and dressing him  in some jeans and a nice cozy sweater. Sexy, very sexy.

I fantasized that there were actually men out there who knew how to ask a woman on a date, and were a little shy in their own geeky way.

You see guys, women don’t want you to be perfect. Perfection with a chink in it is like a chipped piece of china – if you try to cover the crack, that’s all you see.  Imperfection on the other hand is endearing like a homemade quilt or your favourite pair of jammies. You can love that without ever being afraid it will fail you.

Contrary to linen advice in GQ, women will come back to your bed regardless of the matching shams.  So long as the bed is clean, and the company is genuine, you have no worry about return guests.

Perfection needs a lesson in wanting, and the vulnerable get offered up a feast. Or so it is in my wee, little, girl-brain.

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Blog with a Bonus: 20 Things Chicks Should Know

Sittin' in the big chair.
Image by OkayCityNate via Flickr

1)     Surround yourself with, and cherish girlfriends of all ages (older and younger all have wisdom to share and need encouragement)

2)     Have sex with the lights on.

3)     If you’re going to cry in public, go all the way. Cry, blubber, and let your nose get snotty. Whoever made you cry will have clean up the mess they made.

4)     No one can ever take your education from you. Go get one.

5)     Men are like buses; another one comes along every few minutes.  However,  you don’t have a lifetime unlimited pass. Choose your destination and plan your route wisely.

6)     All single ladies should have “back-up” (aka a little black book), but should not forget #4

7)     Trust your intuition.

8)     Be nervous, but never let yourself be intimidated by anyone else.

9)     If you wouldn’t do it to someone else, don’t let them do it to you.

10)    Travel. Alone. At least twice.

11)     Housework can wait – relationships can’t.

12)     Silly is underrated. Be silly.

13)     Anger is just as ok as joy.

14)     Pack extra underwear.

15)     Find a trustworthy mechanic and court them like a lover.

16)     Know your financial stuff, but treat yourself too – life is short.

17)     Learn to compromise.

18)     You already ARE who you want to be, so go and  BE!

19)    Never run out of red wine.

20)  Always, always, always carry mini-pads.

BONUS SECTION: Vote.Learn How to Give a Massage.Know that there will always be assholes.Don’t be an asshole.When you feel like hell, get up, get dressed, do your hair ,do your make-up and go give the world a kick in the ass.Attitude is everything.Give back.Mentor younger women. Respect older ones. Have a signature scent, invest in great mascara, and take care of your skin.With or without great mascara you are beautiful.Remember it’s ok to relax

Fashion · Girl Stuff · Life · Men's Issues · Relationships · Uncategorized · Women's Issues

Bitch with Brains OR Beautiful Bunny; Why Choose?

Image by dtsomp via Flickr

This weekend was not much different from most. Again, I found myself  at a local coffee shop reading the Globe and Mail and pondering the state of the universe.  I always  begin with my favourite column by Katrina Onstad. This week Katrina mulled over the upcoming NBC series The Playboy Club, and what it meant to be bunny then, and where women stand now in the battle of the sexes.

Onstad discusses Gloria Steinem‘s undercover forray into the real Bunny club, and the limited career choices women had throughout the 20th century (and beyond).   Onstad writes there is no problem if women like  to dress in a way that exploits their sexuality, but also ends the article  with the line, ” But it’s 2011 – should we not climb out of the rabbit hole?”. 

I think we have come a long way digging ourselves out of the rabbit hole, but still have to find the right tools to shatter the glass ceiling.  After reading the very no-brainer-girly-style section of the Globe, I settled into something a little more meaty and compelling. Believe it or not, despite feeling feminine with my hair done and my make up on,I could not wait to get home to settle into scholarly journal articles concerned with bio-ethics. A woman who cares about her appearance AND likes to be challenged by complex theories – why Rhett, who would’a thunk it?!

When I read articles like Onstad’s I feel like I have to choose a side. Either I’m a feminist OR a girly girl.  It can make a gal a bit schizo. My generation defines themselves with a new feminism. Our post-secondary institutions boasted a higher female:male ratio, and females continue to out-smart our men in every aspect of academia.  Now more than ever, thanks to our fore-sisters, we have a lifestyle which allows us the freedom to be educated and support ourselves financially. 

We are not housewives tied to a budget, scrimping and saving for a cocktail dress or pair of shoes to wear to our hubby’s professional events. We have the means to splurge on the feel-good-items we want. It might be thirty dollar lip gloss, or a hundred-dollar book, either way, it’s our choice, and our dollar that buys it.

I know what you’re thinking if you’re a thinking woman. Regardless of  the strides we’ve made, and our more-than-competent academic and professional track record, there remains a glass ceiling in the wonderful world of the worker-woman.  The numbers are staggering in Canada when it comes down to gender-parity and who has the CEO power of big-bucks companies. According to a July article in Business Insider , only 12 Fortune 500 companies had female executive officers, but those companies who did have women on the board according to a 2007 study, did significantly better than those dominated by men.

Now. The question; What does she look like? Is it true that women are expected to look like runway models and be twice as savvy as men in the boardroom? Yes, but there is also growing pressure from the gallery for men to be well-coifed, well-dressed, and well-manicured too.  The glass ceiling is still there, and it will take a major shit-kicking with a zillion-fabulous pairs of kitten-heels to get it to crack. We know that.

The important question here for both men and women is; Why do we want to crack that xy chromosone glass ceiling? Because we’ve been groomed for hundreds and thousands of years to value  identified “male-logic” over “female-emotion/intuition”. Since before the time of Herodotus, philosophers and law makers have proselytized about the superior value of male-centric logic all the while watering down the real value of traditional “women’s work”.

Our minds have been trained to value logic over emotion/male over female. We have been socialized to scorn traditional female work – raising children to be responsible citizens, feeding and nurturing  families, and ministering to matters of the human heart. If we look at our minds, we understand that we are beginning from a biased and fragile value system that was created by men, for men.

We need to start asking ourselves why we’ve been groomed to want to be the Barbie that “has it all”?  Because we have been groomed for eons people, and we no longer question the basis of our value system. As humans, ask yourselves why would anyone want to spend their day chasing a dollar to line another man’s pocket in an entirely synthetic,  global economy? (Don’t jump down my throat about material stuff here. I like my modern comforts just as much as the next person. Just examine the question.)

I believe that it is inherent in our evolutionary human selves to want to be attractive to the opposite sex. I get that. Women don’t have to choose between being a bitch with brains or being a beautiful bunny. What we have to do is embrace our power, and give voice to the value of traditional female roles.  No laundry, no food, no sex, no babies, no one to wipe boo-boos and balance the situation – the world would crumble.

Anyone can be a boardroom big-wig, but not everyone is blessed with the intuitive wisdom that comes from being a woman. The truth can indeed be seen from many doorways, we just have to train our mind’s eye to seek those doorways.

I’m educated. I’m employed, and I think I’m going out to get me one of those bunny suits in size Xtra-Luscious. After all, a girl needs to feel sexy once in a while. That’s evolution. That’s logic. Eat your heart our boys.

Fashion · Girl Stuff · Life · Relationships · Singles · Women's Issues

Friends Don’t Let Friends Get Ugly

Friendship, Göteborg, Sweden
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Friends don’t let friends get ugly. And so it came to pass that I went to M.A.C. with one of my besties as part of an evening honouring our tenth year of friendship.

We looked at stunning glosses and cream sheens, eyeshadow, opulent brushes, plumper and liner. We popped into Godiva and secured chocolate covered strawberries and key lime bon-bon accessories.

We had side-by-side mani-pedis done, taking fifteen minutes to choose just the right colours for one another.  We even stopped off afterward to buy new shoes to show off our pretty toes.  My pal, let’s call her Charlene, picked out my outfit for the evening; open-toe stiletto heals with cute satin straps, tights with a mini skirt, and my shiny, yet-to-be-worn-still-had-the-tags-on-it-silver-and-black sparkly tank top.  My breasts were dazzling. They looked like two disco balls just waiting to break out and boogie.

Charlene picked through my closet and make-up table. She made herself at home with my hair products and flat-iron. She even spritzed on my perfume before we headed out the door. She looked amazing in her blue top, jeans, new shoes and fabulously lush brunette hair.

This make up and primping is the equivalent of men bonding while watching a sporting event together, or tackling handy-man-around the house jobs. These relationships build confidence in our “gender identity” thereby making us confident hunters of our mates. In other words,  when  gal-pals complement one another on an outfit;  shoes,  make-up, jewelry selection, it makes them feel like, “Hey. I’m doin’  ok here despite the extra baggage of a few added years”. We don’t really “hunt” mates any more. That’s long gone, with one of us being married, and the other being unlucky in love and a cynical hopeless romantic all that the same time, but we still want to feel desirable.

So we celebrated our tenth year friendship anniversary in the city. We bought the appropriate “tin” gifts to mark our tenth anniversay. Charlene gifted me a  child’s mood ring from the shoe store, and I gave her a prized tin cocktail sign. Taking aesthetics institutions and chocolate shops by storm,  we dished and giggled like we were kids again, forgetting about work, bills, and old scars.  For a few hours we were two carefree girls caught up in ribbons and bows and frilly things.

Watching Charlene giggle and laugh reminded me of a quote from the movie Pirate Radio. Comtemplating the thought of the end of broadcasting from the “pirate” ship, Philip Seymour Hoffman‘s character Harold says, “These are the best days of our lives. It’s a terrible thing to know, but I know it.”

Happy tenth anniversary “Charlene. Your friendship helps keep my fabulous, and don’t I know it.

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A Cynical Cuffing Season

Chain-linked handcuffs type KCH701 from Kyung ...
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Tonight I wanted to give someone a cuff. A good, hard one, but I opened a bottle of luscious red instead. After all, I am a pacifist.
I read a headline this morning about “Cuffing Season”, accompanied by a photo of handcuffs with a big, blood-red heart in the middle. I could hardly wait to hear about something that looked like it was gonna be sexy-like, and teased my memory back to one particularly creative lover. Maybe – just maybe this old girl was going to learn a new trick or two.
I settled in after my run and was quickly snapped back to reality. As I kept reading, my spidey sense told me that this wasn’t going to be so sexy after all,  and I began to learn about “cuffing season”. You see, I grew up in a village smack dab in the middle of nowhere. I have heard of “hunting season”, and cuffing season isn’t so different, minus the camouflage, doe urine and pick-up trucks. The reality of cuffing season is not nearly as appealing as the images the photo of the handcuffs conjured up.
According to www.urbandctionary.com  cuffing Season is; “the time of year in which more people are “talking” and start going out”. Cuffing? Really? That’s it?  If you’re not easily offended, I recommend looking up cuffin, cuffing and cuffing the carrot on www.urbandictionary.com I had a great laugh reading this.
Cuffing season you say? It made me think about being cuffed. Cuffed as in the urban dictionary definition. Otherwise I’d be in like a dirty shirt. But cuffing? Really? Is that what we, the urban population really think of being in a relationship? That it’s rough like being cuffed? That we only need a mate to keep warm during the cold months, and buy us presents at Christmas and accompany us to Thanksgiving dinners? 
I’m so good at doing the solo, only single-chick in the room thing, that I’m ok with not being “cuffed” to some dude just so I have a date. I’d rather not be cuffed and responsible for dragging around a man who (let’s consider all of the circumstances here) is just going through the motions in an effort to get laid, I won’t be bringing around again so-why-bother-with-the-introductions, or is purely man-circus entertainment pour moi.  Cuffing after all can only be defined if it’s witnessed.  Getting-laiders and back-up booty calls do not count. You remane nameless and faceless except for the girl talk names we give you like, “Remote Control Boy”, “The Old Guy”, “Mr. LongTongueSilver”, etc. Myself and  my gal-pals don’t want these guys hanging around. Their job is to be on call.
Now, being “cuffed” to someone you’re head over heels with? What say you to that  ever intelligent readers? Can we really call it being cuffed when it’s a mutual cuffing?
Personally, I’ve had more than my fair share of duds on the dating scene, but it hasn’t been all for naught. I’ve been practicing for the real thing. We ladies know when a man means business, and  not just flowers, dates and romantic texts in order to get the carrot cuffed once in a while. We can smell sincerity like a buck smells doe urine.
We single-gals are  happy biding our time with our black books until our (perhaps somewhat tarnished) knights with white cuffs show up and toss the idea of “cuffing” out the window.
Perhaps, in the mean time we’ll spruce up our lingerie drawers, and summon the ghosts of creative lovers past. Cuffing season my ass.
Entertainment · Fashion · Girl Stuff · Life · Men's Issues · Relationships · Singles · Uncategorized · Women's Issues

Fall is For Our Fabulous Fellas

Men's Fashion in the Twentieth Century - page ...
Image by sylvar via Flickr

With three times as much shelf space in my local bookstore devoted to women’s fashion magazines than men’s fashion magazines, it’s no wonder that the overwhelming opinion out there is that women do more preening, are more concerned about their appearance, and, are more sensitive about body image issues than men. 

I have a project for you ladies. This week, make a point of going out and telling three men that they look fabulous. Make the statement, “You look fabulous,” and then give a concrete example such as,”That shirt is a really great colour”, or,  “Those pants really make your glutes look  spectacular”. You know, something like that. You will notice that men need and want these compliments just as much as, or even more than, women do.

Be careful who you try this little experiment with as some men might interpret your compliment as,”Those pants really make your glutes look spectacular, would you like to get naked and party.” Avoid addressing this type of man-pig.  Try the ordinary average guy.

You see, women routinely make a point of greeting one another with compliments. “Hi Charlene. Your hair looks great pulled up off your face like that. You look fabulous”, or the penultimate you-look-fabulous-comment ; “Have you lost weight?”.

You look fabulous usually translates as you are fabulous. As you mature, you are fabulous becomes way more important than you look fabulous.

Flash to July; It was just before noon, and I was standing in my best friend’s kitchen with nothing on but my t-shirt and a pair of panties.  She was holding up a black skirt, you know, the kind that spreads out like a swing dancer when you twirl around (You still twirl around in your skirts don’t you ladies? Please tell me you’ll never grow out of that).

You see, she’d just had a baby, and was into an entirely new, new-mom-jeans-and-baby-spit-up-shirts kind of wardrobe. She didn’t need the twirly skirt any more.  Half naked in her kitchen, with the window open and the July air blowing through, I was inheriting her never-to-be-worn-again-while-they’re-in-style work clothes. 

“This will look great on you!” she said as she handed me the black skirt. I climbed into it and zipped it up. Yep, it fit. I could make this work with my wardrobe at home. Sold!

Standing there, naked (almost) from the waist down, with my haven’t-had-a-decent-tan in two years chubby legs sticking out, she said to me, “You look fabulous.” 

Funny thing was I didn’t feel fabulous. I felt a little goofy about standing in her kitchen without my pants on and I felt a tiny bit shy about my china-white legs. I definitely did not feel fabulous.

That’s the great thing about girlfriends though isn’t it? You can be having the very worst, sweaty, just before your period, I ate an entire bag of chips last night,  half a tub of Ben and Jerry’s, haven’t worked out in 3 months and I’m in the middle of a figuring out how to finally break up with my boyfriend kind of moment, and they know just how to get in there between your sagging and self-depreciating grey matter and cheer you right up. I don’t think guy-friendships are quite as affirming.

I don’t think guys have been nurtured to have a knack for that sorta thing. So ladies, I’ve decided that’s our project for this week. Get out there and tell your guy (and if you don’t have one, just pick some lucky fella), just how fabulous he is. Because these hunky guys that frustrate the heck out of us are fabulous, they just need a bit of encouragement.

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What’s Sexy vs. The Fu Manchu

A very dashing younger man-friend of mine engaged me in a rather stimulating conversation last night.  It was stimulating because, two glasses of wine later,  I was picturing him with a Fu Manchu moustache, taking me out on the town, and whisking me away for a few hours. The key to my fantasy is the moustache. Don’t get me wrong here, my younger man-friend is sexy anyway, but adding the moustache element just makes it so much more….mmmmmM!

Flashback to a weekend in the Bahamas with my best pal, and a bunch of pilots on a bachelor’s weekend. They had all grown Fu Manchu’s for the occasion. That was a deliciously…let’s just say, that’s where I acquired my taste for the Fu Manchu.  Perhaps that experience made me somewhat biased and disillusioned, but I’m going to continue with this post in an effort to make the world a more sexy, actively loving, romantic place to live.

Pay attention here fellas. You see, in general, moustaches are hands-down tacky. I generally loathe them, and have never, NEVER dated a man with a moustache (blue eyes also give me the creeps, but I see a psychologist for that).   Please take special note: You do not want to go out in public with a regular moustache, or  a real Fu Manchu, or a handlebar ‘stache, or anything that may be mistaken for a Magnum P.I. costume. 

Moustaches – too porn. Too much like on-the-face-private-hair. The Fu Manchu however is über sexy, über masculine, and scream, “Don’t-mess-with-me-I’m-all-testosterone-and-ready-to-roll”.  That’s what I thought anyway, but I’ve been informed otherwise.

If you google, “Fu Manchu Moustache”, you will find images and descriptions of moustaches grown to just beyond the corner of the lips. The hair at the edges is then grown like a beard.  If you google, ” Horseshoe Moustache“,  you will find the rugged moustache style I’m so enamoured with.

You see, unlike the Fu Manchu, the Horseshoe moustache is trimmed like a goatee, minus the bits around the lower lip and chin. By the way goatees, when trimmed properly are always sexy, and unlike the Horseshoe, much more socially accepted. The Horseshoe is just outright bold and sexual. It’s kinda like a woman walking around with the nipples cut out of her tops and bra. The Horseshoe is like kissable porn right on a man’s face.

Men, don’t go awry when trying to grow your Horseshoe ‘stache. You may even need to take a sick day to get it just right.  My advice guys, is to spice things up a bit at home. Do your facial man-grooming, and treat your lady to a private night in. 

Run a bath for her, light some candles, and when she gets out, have your own little soaking-wet-fresh-from-the-tub -love-picnic on the floor. Try growing a goatee and trimming it down for that special occasion. Trust me, even if it’s just for a very yummy night in with your lady, it will be worth the work.