post script
“So there was this monk who was hanging on to a tree branch by his mouth, and someone came by and asked him, ‘What is Buddha nature?’…”
from a comment on Keith Olberman’s board I thought MCARP would like to read
blogblah!!!

Take heart Boomer Sooners. You coulda been a Mets fan and suffered like these poor chaps.

Or, like Justice Clarence Thomas, you could write a bio that shows you lost touch with reality.

Or, having lost at love, perhaps you’re ready to also lose at friendships as well.

Maybe you’d feel better off just knowing that you are not Brittany Spears, who lost custody of her children.

Or, maybe, like Jenan, you’ve just lost all interest in trying to figure out how to leave a little sompin’ sompin’ like the following on this unwieldy blog. A meditation by an unknown woman blogger on the minds of men (sorry about the long quotation, but we just couldn’t make the links work.):

“While I was reading through my e-mail, there was one from a woman asking me to explain what exactly goes on through guys’ heads. There was a man that she couldn’t understand, his behaviors were a mystery to her. Most men will argue that it is the women of this world who are the ones most difficult to understand. I constantly hear the general consensus from them that men are “simple creatures.”

In some ways, I can agree with this. Men require very little to keep them happy. Food, felatio and football with the odd 10 hour nap thrown in here and there and most males will be pleased as a pig in mud. When you counter that with women and their needs, I believe that only a moron would disagree that men are simple.

However, when it comes to emotional understanding, women are the simple creatures. No, it’s not that it’s easy to understand a woman’s emotions, it’s that women are dense as bricks when it comes to understanding men’s emotions. Simple as in stupid. Idiots. Morons.

I don’t think of women as having a left and a right brain. They have more of a front brain and a back brain. Women store certain bits of knowledge in the back of their brain but for the most part operate out of the front of their brains.

In the back of our brains, when we are with a man who is loyal to us, women will store away the facts. He doesn’t sneak out. He doesn’t laugh at us when we say ask something ludicrous like whether or not our ass looks big in a pair of jeans. He enjoys fucking us. Hell, he enjoys being around us so much, he’s either constantly playing grab ass or walking around with half a stiffy simply because he noticed that our nipples were hard through the front of our t-shirt.

In the front of our brains we only know what we don’t see. He doesn’t buy us roses. He doesn’t try to impress us like he did when we were first going out. He doesn’t constantly shower us with verbal praise. Hell, we got our hair cut and he didn’t say anything about it! (Never mind the fact that he’s trailing us around the house with that half stiffy.) The front of our brain likes to focus on what SHOULD be and not what IS.

Women really torture men. We ask questions that we’ve already pre-designated an answer to. It’s as if we’re Alex Trebec at the podium, looking hopelessly on a contestant who accidentally pressed the button and now is just waiting for the alloted time to run out so that he can get the correct answer. And if they answer right, half the time it isn’t good enough anyway.

“You didn’t answer in the form of a question! You lose, fucker!!”

All of the answers that we are looking for lie in the back part of our brains, ladies. The men have given us the emotional Rosetta stone already. So when they come to us with their verbal hieroglyphics, it’s just a matter of doing a little translation. Why make it into such an elaborate fucking affair?

Men are bewitchingly complex in these cases. Rather than come right out and tell us how they feel, they talk around it. They show us through their actions, in the things that they are willing to give up for us, the sacrifices that they are willing to make. Perhaps it’s because they’ve not entirely admitted to themselves what you mean to them and the actions are easier than the self reflection, I don’t know.

All I know is, if a sports nut buys you a baseball hat for your birthday, he’s inviting you into his world.

If a video game freak hands over the remote and tells you to try playing, he thinks you’re pretty fucking swell.

And if a music fanatic mentions you in the same breath as Led Zeppelin, you must be doing something right.

So rather than sit around bitching about how men don’t know how to properly express their emotions, we women as a whole learn to shut the fuck up and pay attention? Rather than complaining that they don’t know how to say “I love you,” or they don’t know how to cry or they spend too much time doing their own thing and then have the nerve to come pester us for sex, we stop and think about what is really being said here.

If you need to have someone give you constant reassurance after they’ve just given you one of the most unique and momentous gifts, then you’re never going to be happy. And that’s your problem and not theirs. No amount of “I love you”s, “You’re beautiful”s or proclamations of loyalty and sincerity will ever suffice.

Guys, when a woman tells you, “Sometimes we just need to hear it!” she doesn’t need to hear it from you, she needs to hear it from inside herself.

Girls, when he offers you the last beer of the 6 pack, he doesn’t think your ass is big. Well, maybe he does. But it’s his way of saying that he doesn’t care, that he loves that big old ass.

Personally, I’ll gladly skip the daily affirmations of devotion for that one time mention of being the literal embodiment of what his passion means to him. That shit goes beyond love. That shit makes love look meaningless by comparison.”