Do you believe there's such a thing as a soulmate?

Wednesday, March 31, 2010

Addendum to "Why Men Lie... a Lot"

It was brought to my attention that while I may have addressed why men lie I didn't sufficiently address why men lie so much.

Here's why: PRACTICE.

Lying, as with anything, requires practice-- unless you're a sociopath. The more you do it the better you get at it. Lies that don't work get put to bed; lies that do get perfected. But it takes practice, practice, practice!

Why Men Lie... a Lot

Millions of women, one question: Why do men lie, and why so much?

Men lie, of course, because we want to conceal clandestine activities or because we don’t want to hurt your feelings, but we also issue “control lies.”

Your man comes home a couple hours after work. You ask him where he’s been. He says he was browsing around Wal-Mart but he was really at Buffalo Wild Wings-- happy hour with the work buddies. You might catch him in the lie (they don’t serve cocktails at WallyWorld) but it only costs him a lecture; also, you can verify with his co-workers or even the restaurant that he was on his best behavior.

But let’s say you don’t catch him. He just got away with another control lie. When they strap you into a lie detector they first issue a series of irrelevant control questions-- Is your name _____? Do you live at _____? Is your gender _____?-- to test the integrity of the apparatus before moving on to where you were on the night of who-gives-a-shit. Men also do this as a test of both their ability to speak falsely and your supposed women’s intuition. The more you believe his control lies, the more likely you are to believe his genuine lies.

And that’s the double truth, Ruth.

Tuesday, March 30, 2010

A Portrait of the Asshole as a Young Man

[The following is part of a series of personal thoughts and revelations by New Shoes administrator and author Adam Scott Thompson. Hold your breath whilst reading, lest you catch the vapors.]

I’m into feet, but not in a full-force fetish kind of way. I just love women’s feet-- some women’s feet. It’s not as serious for me as it is for some, the licking/sniffing/rubbing their junk on it kind. I don’t need half a foot in my mouth or a big toe up my ass. No-- I just need them to be nice-looking.

If I were a woman-- pre-occupied with some long, silly list of qualifications-- this would be a potential "dealbreaker." If a woman’s feet are on point then that’s all I need. I don’t have to have them up in my face or anywhere that I can see them (they could be hooked around my back, for all I care); just the knowledge that they exist in a state of near-perfection is enough to send me. On the other hand, if a woman’s feet repulse me it makes it infinitely harder to be fully aroused by her.

Matter of fact, if I had the choice I would rather smash an ugly woman with pretty feet than a pretty woman with ugly feet. Twisted, I know… but isn’t that why you love (to hate) me?

Monday, March 29, 2010

First Dates are Like Paying for a Job Interview (to Men)

Ah, the first date. Win-win for a woman, really. You either get a shot at a potential long-term relationship or a free meal at a four-star restaurant. There are almost always guarantees for a woman, even where bad first dates are concerned.

For a man, not so much.

Imagine there’s a new job in your area that pays well and offers good benefits and vacation/sick time-- but there’s a catch: you have to pay just to interview for the job, and there’s still no guarantee you’ll get it. Scams like this are run every day using online job search websites, and people are so desperate for employment that they’re easily duped.

You’d consider them suckers, of course, so why not a man on a first date? I know, I know-- it’s all up to us whether the date goes well or not. Even if we were disqualified from minute one because there was “just no spark” at least we’ll get to masturbate later to the feeling of satisfaction that can only be derived from paying for a grown-ass woman’s dinner. Score!

Going Dutch on a first date is a sensible idea, but it’s also a heretical one. A guy who won’t even pay for dinner is just trying to get something for nothing, right? Well, that actually implies that he’s getting something. (Your thanks and admiration don’t count.)

Check, please.

Sunday, March 28, 2010

Questions & Manswers #2

[Note: Answers (in italics) are presented exactly as they were received.]

What are qualities you find most attractive in a woman?
Smile, Educated, Athletic, Sex Appeal

What annoys you most about women?
Being insecure and talking about men like women do not do wrong.

On a scale of one to ten, how honest are you with the women you date?

What is your typical response to “What are you thinking?”

Would you cheat if you knew you wouldn’t get caught?

How important is a woman’s weight to you? Would you mind if your girlfriend/wife gained a lot of weight after you two got together/married?
yes because i like a woman who goes for runs or goes to L.A. Fitness a couple times a week.. and if you are gaining weight before you having kids, you sure aren't going to appeal to me after having kids

What are you looking for: marriage and kids, just marriage, a live-in girlfriend situation (relationship), friends with benefits, dating with sex being the ultimate goal, or just straight Internet hook-up sex?
Marriage and kids

Do you see marriage as a benefit? How so?
I mean you have somebody you love and can have kids with and live the "American Dream"

What do you think motivates women: love, money, security, children, “the show” of getting married, etc.?
Love and "the show"

Is there anything else you’d like women to know about you and men in general?
The reason why i haven't dated a black woman is because most of the ones i have tried to talk to they try to be too strong, they think they have to play that role when they don't have to

Saturday, March 27, 2010

The Nice Guy: Horny with a Halo

You won’t date him-- or, more importantly, give him some ass-- because he’s just too nice; but he seems well-adjusted to his position in the Friend Zone, right? Don’t believe it.

Not every man has the ingredients to be an asshole. Some don’t have the stomach to tell you that your “Go get ‘em!” dress is horrible, that when you speak you sound dumb, and that your unique snowflake vagina is… *yawn* Others just figure to separate themselves from jerks and douche bags by eschewing a slap on the ass in favor of a shoulder you can cry on.

Different tactics, same goals.

The nice guy isn’t really nice. How to test this theory? Go to your nice guy friend-- or “gay homeboy status” as he’s known to other men-- and tell him he can tap that. If he doesn’t at least consider it then 1) he really is gay and 2) I owe you an item off the 99¢ menu at Wendy’s.

Being nice and wanting to smash chicks are not mutually exclusive ideas. Nice guys typically fail for the same reason the Democratic Party does: They don’t know how to just bend you over, kick your feet apart for a wide stance and jam it up your ass without so much as a “Can I?”

Friday, March 26, 2010

Talk to Him like You're Tweeting (Seriously)

You’re going on and on about how your hateful co-workers are “all up in my shit.” Meanwhile, our mental orchestra has already played you off-stage and gone to commercial break. If there’s no new info being transmitted-- like your approximate freak level-- we might as well be in two different dimensions.

[Note: A man may let you jabber on incessantly if you’re at a club, bar or other event where alcohol is served, as this gives him a gauge-- per your increasingly slurred and fragmented speech-- of how drunk you’re getting (smash!).]

So when you’re talking to a guy you just met or don’t know very well, remember your Twitter allotment-- 140 characters or less-- please! We're simple creatures, I know, but isn't that part of the charm? Pretend you’ve just won the Academy Award; be Alfred Hitchcock (who holds the record for the shortest Oscar acceptance speech)… not Cuba Gooding, Jr. or any of those fools who begin with, “I didn’t prepare a speech but…”

Thursday, March 25, 2010

A Shameless Endorsement

She's gotten a lot of flack from women who say she's selling out the gender by asking them to settle, but as a man I've got to take Lori Gottlieb's new book, Marry Him: The Case for Settling for Mr. Good Enough, seriously.

Most other books I've read on women and relationships-- and in the interests of science I've read more than I care to-- give a lot of lip service to women's continued fantasies of having their cake and eating it too (but not gaining a pound). Gottlieb lays it on the line, putting herself out there as a case study and revealing the myriad ways in which a generation of women have traded in ground-floor feminism for Sex and the City fabulosity.

Buy it to own and/or share, or just keep reading it at the bookstore until you're done (ghetto library style). And remember: Men like to swim in settled, not choppy waters.

A Questionnaire for the Ladies

Click here to answer the form.

Please fill out this Formstack questionnaire completely and submit; your answers may be featured in a future blog post. Thanks for reading and discussing the blog, and don't forget to tell your family, friends, co-workers and total strangers about New Shoes!

The Spank Bank

Ever seen a man in public looking at you for longer than is socially appropriate? Relax, he’ll be done in a moment-- taking it all in, that is. He’s “downloading” you into a part of the male brain we refer to as the spank bank.

The spank bank is a reservoir of masturbatory fantasies filled with women we may or may not have slept with. For example, we can take a chick we saw at Wing Stop and plug her into an actual episode with an ex-girlfriend, thus creating a virtual ménage à trois.

So what are we doing specifically with your avatar(t)? Anything our minds-- and porn-- can imagine!

Don’t find the man in front of you sexy enough to give him the digits? No matter. He’s already got you… [tapping my forehead] up here. He’ll tag team you with Palmela again and again like a wrestling duo.

If you have a boyfriend or husband then don’t even worry about it. He spends his days depositing girl after girl into his spank bank. It’s not just for when he’s flying solo. If he’s grown bored humping you he can just replace your face with the smile from the mall kiosk, the body from the strip club or the legs from that catalog (yeah, it’s that serious). Remember that bird you caught him watching the other day? She’ll be in your bedroom-- tonight.

Wednesday, March 24, 2010

A Time to Kill: Your Lame-Ass Poetry

“Yes, they deserved to die, and I hope they burn in HELL!!!” – Samuel L. Jackson, A Time to Kill

Because there are plenty of ways to get over him-- and yourself-- other than writing huge blocks of free association with words that rhyme on the end of every line, possessed of no unique style whatsoever.

Know what made Shakespeare’s poems so timeless? They were mostly sonnets-- sonnets! Fourteen lines… ten syllables a line… in iambic pentameter with the last two lines ending in a rhyming couplet (huh?). You’ve really got to be in love with another human being to write some shit like that.

I don’t know how they happened but I can count at least twenty-two separate incidents in my lifetime where I was forced to comment on some chick’s hackneyed poem describing her romantic situation:

You took my undying love for granted
Now I’m sick and sad… sorta slanted
I ate a pint of cookies and cream
Reminiscing on how we used to seem
Before you wanted something more
With that whore who works at Pizza Hut
What the fuck?!

Writing poetry for your man on a regular basis is also a fool’s errand. A blowjob, even on auto-pilot, would be more appreciated than a hundred of your half-assed haikus. If the relationship goes down in flames you can always deny that blowjob, but a stack of printed e-mails in the hands of man who no longer values your feelings or privacy can be dynamite.

So keep the poetry in your journal and please don't share it. The life you save may be… never mind, just don’t share it.

Tuesday, March 23, 2010

Beware (or Be Aware of) the Specialist

While the average woman in her twenties and thirties spends her time trying to be a man’s everything (in theory, at least), there is a type of female who excels at being a man’s one special thing.

This woman can exist independently but usually does so as a supplement to your romantic relationship. She’s a specialist-- her "job" being to shore up your weaknesses in any given area. Your boyfriend or husband won’t run away with this woman and that’s fine by both of them. He just needs something specific from her… special:

Special oral (because yours is either non-existent or like a peeling a carrot [and she swallows])
Special sex (because she may be more flexible than you, and down to get choked)
Special ears (because you don’t hear as well as you talk, talk, talk)
Special slutty outfits (because you only wear yours on Valentine’s Day and Halloween)
Special interests (because we accepted that you weren’t a football fan… but not so much)
Special Scarface trivia knowledge (because you don’t laugh when we say, ‘Chi Chi, get the yayo.’)
Special ‘nothing-at-all’ (because some girls have mastered the art of just being around, minus the talking or excessive affection)

I could go on but you get the gist: For everything you don’t do there’s a woman who does only that thing… extremely well. Not saying you should try to outdo said specialist (you can’t), but the more your man can get in-house the less likely he is to outsource.

Monday, March 22, 2010

Who's Emotionally Superior, Men or Women?

The answer seems obvious. I’ve always analogized the emotional depth of men and women with paint.

Men are like those watercolor paint sets (6 colors) that kids use in kindergarten. We have a few common stock emotions (happy, sad, angry, annoyed) that don’t really mingle well. Women, on the other hand, are like that large paint palette held by Bob Ross (big afro, “happy trees”). There are many colors that freely mix, forming different shades and new colors altogether.

So that makes women the winners, right?

Women usually argue that it’s their emotional maturity-- and thus superiority-- that makes them think twice about saying or doing things that would hurt or disrespect their men, while men seem to lack a developed sense of empathy and consideration where women and their feelings are concerned. In fact, we don’t lack this sense-- we rebuke it.

Men feel emotionally superior to women because we don’t allow our emotions, however real, to get in the way of basic desires. A man will cheat on his woman despite feeling for her the deepest love and affection and be willing to lie to preserve both (see John Edwards). Women would qualify this as borderline sociopathy, but sociopaths don’t feel remorse; normal men do.

I leave this up for discussion. Who do you think is emotionally superior?

Sunday, March 21, 2010

The Ninja Creep (A Buy Now! Tactic)

Let’s just cut to it: no man asks to bring a DVD over to your place to watch it with you unless he’s trying to get sex. If it were up to him you’d be out of your bra and panties before the previews ended. If he comes by early in the night he’ll bring two movies; if later, just one. They’ll be his favorite titles, ones he’s watched so many times he knows the character’s lines by heart. This is so he can zone out, staring at you out of his periphery and fantasizing about which position he's going to put you in first.

It helps him significantly if you’re sleepy-- or drunk-- because that’s when the magic will happen. The two of you will fall asleep on the bed, couch, or floor. Then he’ll make his move, spooning behind you and feeling you up. If you respond favorably then it’s on like Donkey Kong. If you turn to him and ask “What the hell are you doing?” he can just be like, “My bad, I was having a dream.”

Saturday, March 20, 2010

Questions & Manswers #1

This is the first of a series of Q&A’s from a Formspring survey sent out to dozens of men. The survey takers will remain anonymous but do take the answers seriously; these are real men answering real questions honestly. [Note: Answers (in italics) are presented exactly as they were received.]

What are qualities you find most attractive in a woman?
Physically - Nice ass, pretty smile, nice legs, keeps in shape. Personality -

What annoys you most about women?
CONSISTENT annoyance, complaining, no ambition, judgemental attitude.

On a scale of one to ten, how honest are you with the women you date?
7 or 8. Can't be too honest. Tends to scare people away.

What is your typical response to “What are you thinking?”
"Not much. What you thinking of?"

Would you cheat if you knew you wouldn’t get caught?
If I'm REALLY in love with my girl, I wouldn't. But if things are starting to get out!

How important is a woman’s weight to you? Would you mind if your girlfriend/wife gained a lot of weight after you two got together/married?
I wouldn't mind, as long as she noticed it and starts making it an issue to get herself together.

What are you looking for: marriage and kids, just marriage, a live-in girlfriend situation (relationship), friends with benefits, dating with sex being the ultimate goal, or just straight Internet hook-up sex?
Just friends.From there, women get separated and thrown into different categories based on what I want from them.

Do you see marriage as a benefit? How so?
It's only beneficial if the you get a good tax return and good sex to match!

What do you think motivates women: love, money, security, children, “the show” of getting married, etc.?
I think they're motivated by their emotions. All the above that you just mentioned are decided upon based on their emotions.

Is there anything else you’d like women to know about you and men in general?
If you didn't know....
1.) Learn to cook and cook for him.
2.) Keep it freaky. Be a hoe (for him) sometimes.
3.) Be supportive of him, no matter what!

Friday, March 19, 2010

Because He Can't Have Sex with His Mom

Don’t get me wrong; he doesn’t want to. That’s incest-- but he does want someone like his mother, functionally speaking.

His mother cooked his favorite foods, cleaned his room when it was completely F’ed, nursed him back to health when he got the flu, and helped finish that science project the night before it was due. She picked matter out of his eyes and ears, told him he could be President, bought him that cereal he was never going to finish, and wasted half a bottle of Shout trying to fade the shit streaks out of his underwear (fail).

He’s a man now, but he hasn’t outgrown his need for a nurturing female presence. He needs someone like Mom… albeit with a twist.

The mother/whore complex-- “lady in the streets, freak in the sheets” is the popular colloquialism-- is generally believed to refer a man’s need for his wife to assume a maternal role-- attending to his needs without violating his pride-- while also transforming nightly into a succubus (pun intended) whose position-of-choice requires a stunt rig.

Most men want a woman who can comfortably navigate these two worlds, but if you can’t then it’s okay! The original Freudian concept of mother/whore described a man who relied on his “main” or “wifey” to act as a surrogate mother; because this didn’t jive with his sexual urges-- again, boning your mom is gross-- he would literally explode his base desires upon lesser women (jump-offs, scalawags, chickenheads, skanks, skeezers, hoes, tricks, trick bitches, side orders, freaks, cum-buckets, and “Jolene” [good song]).

Chances are your man won’t cheat on you if you can fill both roles. If he does cheat then it’s probably because you were either the maid who couldn’t swing from a chandelier or the prostitute who couldn’t vacuum or fold. Some men, however, consider the two roles to be mutually exclusive; in this case you’ll always have a “silent partner” providing help, whether you want it or not.

Thursday, March 18, 2010

Supply & Demand: Why the Men You Want are Nowhere to be Found

I hear women ask, “Why can’t I just find a good, decent man?” Answer: that’s not what’s in demand.

Supply speaks to demand. If men as a gender got nowhere being dicks, assholes and jerks who use women as sex objects, mothers and maids then they would’ve systematically changed up their behavior years ago; but they do get somewhere.

Sex is a man’s most powerful primitive imperative. Give a starving man a choice between a ham sandwich and a piece of new pussy and watch his head explode. So it follows that a man, like his prehistoric ancestors, will embrace behaviors that result in sex while eschewing those that don’t. Why then does the successful “loser” persist?

Often what a woman demands in thought is not what she demands in fact. Most men, assholes especially, are adept at supplying superficial demands-- the kind eyes, the nice smile, the muscled body, the witty repartee, the accoutrements of financial virility. Those deeper demands? Fuck ‘em! Men know how much “chemistry” matters to women, which is why they so often and easily fall victim to quacks and alchemists rather than the true male scientists of female love and fulfillment.

Men act however they want because they can, because it’s not so unbearable that you won’t put up with it-- at least for a few months or years-- in exchange for some sense of romantic excitement and spontaneity. That’s all a man needs; after that he’s off to the next flower like a pollinating bee. You demand losers with your choices and are rewarded as such. Your needs, your lists, your views of what should be mean nothing to us when inferior demand can be met by a commensurate supply.

Wednesday, March 17, 2010

Male Escape Tactic: The Desperate Phone Call/ Text Message

You’ve just reached the end of a satisfying sex romp. You’re still semi-aroused, all over the guy, waiting for him to recover for round two.

His phone rings, or vibrates... or doesn’t do either-- but he picks it up. “Dammit!” he exclaims. “My boy’s in jail (or in the E.R. [or stranded somewhere]). The rest of my crew can’t do anything without me. I gotta go and help out.” He leaps out of bed, puts his clothes on.

“Is there anything I can do?” you might ask. “You guys need help with bail?”

“I think we’ll be good. I’ll just call you later, let you know what happened. I’d rather get back in bed with you but… well, you can’t choose your friends.”

This escape tactic works best when the man has already worked it out with a friend to aid in the deception. For example: while you’re in the bathroom, I send a quick text-- *sos*-- to my buddy’s phone; he’ll already know what this means and call me back; while I pretend to complain about having to help our imperiled friend he’ll run down all the places where we can go eat breakfast!

Tuesday, March 16, 2010

Men Do Cry... When Necessary

He’s busted. You’ve caught him. Good job! Now what?

You step to him, ask him how he could disrespect you and put your relationship in jeopardy. You remind him of all he’s about to lose and all he could have had. You had a bag packed before he even got home; someone will arrive later for the rest. This is it... Michael Jackson. No more “I love you,” no more whiffs of the love below, no more arm candy, no more cook or nurse-maid or secretary-- no more you after today.

What does he have to say for himself? Not much, surprisingly. It’s what he does that takes you aback: he weeps like Jesus.

I deduced long ago that a man can’t cry in front of his woman whenever the mood suits him. She’d think he was a punk and eventually become abusive (such weakness breeds cruelty). No-- a man gets two cries.

The first cry can be as simple as a single rolling tear. This one is most useful when he’s been called insensitive, selfish, mean, or even-- gasp!-- noncommittal. This tear brings you back into his eye, into that deep pool you dove into headfirst when you two first linked up. It’s also good for the kind of passionate sex that earlier times afforded him, rather than the tired wrestling match that ensues now that you feel you don’t have to work so hard to please him.

The second cry, stationed behind emergency glass, is a true performance-- Richard Gere, Officer and a Gentleman shit (“I got nowhere else to go!”). He may fall to his knees and produce snot. His mouth may open up and resemble the Holland Tunnel. He may not break eye contact for a full minute! Dialogue is optional:

“Baby, I was out of my mind. I had to be… to disrespect you. I love you. That girl, she doesn’t mean shit to me. I’m crazy, that’s it! I’ve gone crazy. Take me to the hospital psych ward, commit my ass. They’ll tell you for sure, ‘He’s a goddamn nut, ma'am.’ Please, baby… I only want to be crazy for you now-- the bat-shit love of your life.”

The second cry doesn’t always work, but it works more than you’d like.

Monday, March 15, 2010

The Marriage Versus "The Show"

A year ago I attended the wedding of a great friend-- more like a sister-- that, all told, didn’t cost above a thousand bucks. It took place outside a nice hotel with no more than fifteen people present (including the photographer). There was no reception afterward. I wished them well on their journey together-- they currently reside in Europe-- and was on my way.

They’re still together, minus a $20,000 tab (the cost of the average U.S. wedding).

Many women I talk to have a pre-conceived fantasy about their “special day.” Sure, they try to play it off at first-- “I really don’t need all that flashy stuff, just a man who loves me”-- before going into specifics, right down to the flower girl’s shoes. Problem with this is, too many of them are more concerned with the front entrance than with the winding amusement park that is marriage for life.

I say marriage for life because, with the divorce rate near 50% in the U.S., the institution is becoming more like a video game you can simply reset; spouses are considered for-the-moment, like starter homes. Nevertheless, women clamor for “the show,” that one day in their average lives when tears of joy are shed upon their feet, when all gifts are addressed to only them (and hubby)-- when a gut-battling corset is seen as anything but tacky. Whatever happens after is irrelevant; doesn’t even matter if they married the right gent! They’ll always have the pictures and, possibly, a ring that set him back three month’s salary.

It’s so easy to become enamored of the show that a woman can be blinded to the more serious questions. How will we pay off the debt incurred by an event that lasted a single day (and wasn’t about him at all)? How will our marriage manifest itself as we move farther away from the adrenaline rush of the wedding? Did I press him as hard as I did to get to the marriage or to the show?

In all fairness, men love the show as much as women. Why not? It’s a day when you and everyone else (not your parents) forget what’s wrong with us: that we’re still stuck in that dead-end job; that we spend too much time with our raucous friends; that we drink booze for breakfast; that we dropped your cousin’s baby after she said we look good with kids; that we’re (allegedly) giving your quality time to that skank in the apartment above ours.

You get the marriage, “the show,” to act a fool; we get the marriage.

Sunday, March 14, 2010

"I've Got Standards. I Can Wait." So Can We.

When a cheetah hunts gazelle, the chase is like a 100 meter sprint-- fast and brief. Sometimes the cheetah wins and sometimes it loses. The wolf, on the other hand, will hunt caribou for miles and days, trotting behind the herd and waiting for them to fatigue.

Why the nature lesson, you ask?

I hear a lot of women talk about their lists and standards and expectations, and how they’re more than willing to sit out until conditions are to their liking. The problem with this is that conditions, over time, don’t really change. If they do, it’s for the worse. Time is the enemy for women-- not so much for men.

“Time is on my side… yes, it is…” goes the song by the Rolling Stones, and men hum this to themselves as they negotiate the female landscape. We’re aware that fatigue eventually sets in, that you tire of dating, that you watch more of your friends getting married and starting families, that you start acquiring wrinkles and extra pounds, that you become “that old bitch” at the club and that your stock declines as ours rises (there are no female Tony Bennetts).

Women who consider themselves “prime cut” hold out too long, reassuring themselves that they are too good to settle until they discover one day that their stock has plummeted, the choice men have been snatched up, and those who remain stand ready to exploit (and punish) them.

Men can be both cheetah and wolf, swiftly running down those they can catch now and patiently awaiting the deceleration of those who attempt to outrun time and reality.

Saturday, March 13, 2010

New Shoes Term: The Side Order

“Do I look like a biscuit to you? Do I look like a fucking French fry? Then why are you trying to play me like a side order?” -- from the romantic comedy film, Hav Plenty (1997)

Let’s put the term in its proper context. A man orders a meal from Whataburger: a cheeseburger, large fries, and a large drink. He only barely manages to finish it and finds himself extremely satiated. A few days later he returns and orders the same thing and consumes it on location. In the midst of eating he realizes he’s hungrier this day than he was the other day; he’s going to need a side order of something-- extra fries, tator tots, a salad, apple pie, chocolate malt, etc.

A man can be satisfied by a woman for a time but then suddenly feel the need for a side order. This could be a one-night stand or a longer affair-- whatever he needs to be satiated. This says nothing about the abstract quality of his regular "meal"; he simply desires something extra, or something new.

Friday, March 12, 2010

You Married the Paralegal!

Two Stories:

A man starts dating a woman who is a paralegal. She tells him that she plans to go to law school and one day practice law. The man commends her on this. Eventually, man and woman become husband and wife. Woman comes to man one day and tells him that, although she’d like to finish her degree, she’s not as keen on being a lawyer as she once was. Man says, “As long as you’re sure, it’s fine by me. I married the paralegal.”

A woman starts dating a man who is a paralegal. He tells her that he plans to go to law school and one day practice law. The woman commends him on this. Eventually, man and woman become husband and wife. Man comes to woman one day and tells him that, although he’d like to finish his degree, he’s not as keen on being a lawyer as he once was. Woman says, “Where’s this coming from? When we met you had ambition. You were working on your dream of being a lawyer. We’ve discussed this before and you admitted that you were just a little fatigued and needed a break, but that you would eventually get your degree and take the bar exam. Now you’re telling me that the place you were in when I met you is the same place you want to be in forever. I just thought we had the same goals, the same drive. I thought you wanted to do better in life. Maybe I was wrong.”

The Moral:

When a man meets a woman, he pretty much accepts that what he sees is what he gets. If a man isn’t satisfied with a woman’s “here-and-now” he simply keeps searching. If he marries the paralegal and she becomes a lawyer then that’s great, but if she doesn’t she’s still the woman he fell in love with and accepted. For men regression, not lack of progression, is the gravest sin: “When I met her she was 125 pounds; it’s a year later and she’s 140!”

When a woman meets a man, far too often she falls in love with the lawyer (the changes that will [should?] occur with him in the future) as opposed to the paralegal (the reality of the man standing before her). When he doesn’t become the lawyer or seems satisfied with being a paralegal, the woman is disappointed and resentful of his lack of desire to progress. She cannot love the man as he is… only as she expects him to have been.

Bottom Line:

Many women become dissatisfied in their relationships and marriages because they bought into the future instead of the present, because they bet on the potential rather than the actual. Remember, you married the paralegal!

Thursday, March 11, 2010

Men Want "Gay" Sex

[Author’s Note: Not all gay men are like the ones I’m about to describe-- just the ones who hang out at clubs where they have to put signs in the restroom that warn “No Drugs and No Sex in the Stalls.”]

Straight men secretly envy gay men, but I’m not talking about hygiene or fashion sense or being admitted as a fly on the wall during girl talk.

A man is almost always down for sex, be it on the first date or at the end of that six-week drought after she’s had the baby. What stands in his way? The very thing he craves-- women. Women have consequences to consider, feelings to reckon with (such things have no place in Grown-Ass-Man Land). Even when a woman agrees to sex from jump it’s usually a misguided attempt to boost her self-esteem. Most ladies will hide the cookies until they perceive an investment on a man’s part.

Meanwhile, he endures the horror of chronic dry dick.

Gay men seeking “business casual” don’t have to contend with such obstacles. Testosterone is the sex hormone, and even the biggest pink-‘n-glitter sissy has it coursing through him-- as do his potential hook-ups*. If one gay man meets another in the club and they hit it off, it’s only a problem of how to make it happen ASAP-pronto.

Straight men want this “gay” sex but have to resort to subterfuge, false flattery, and out-of-pocket expenses to achieve the same result with women; even then success is not assured. If sex-- the “soon and very soon” kind-- was guaranteed in a man’s mind he probably wouldn’t force the issue with females he met at the club, online, at the gym, during a funeral (no one who'll be missed), etc. Instead it’s a Jay-Z mentality: on to the next one.

We hetero men want what the homos have, that unabated path to love and sex and magic (but mostly sex); alas, it’s the other way. We have to pretend to be fascinated by silly chatter, awed by unflattering outfits, amused by girlfriends who cock-block us, okay with charging fruity drinks to our credit cards, and willing to accept “Call me, we’ll go out!” in lieu of actual coitus.

*White people long ago snatched up this term to use as a catch-all for sexless foreplay, but its original meaning—sex, quick and goofy—applies here.

Wednesday, March 10, 2010

"Could You Leave Your Bra On? Thanks."

Men are visual creatures. This is why we can never say of a woman, “What struck me first was her personality.” We understand that women have issues with body image but disappointment can’t be helped when-- after the date, when it’s time to get naked and bone-- what we see is not what we get. False advertising aside, here are several ways that men cope with your “glorious imperfections,” some which require notice:

Problem: Earlier, your boobs were located firmly within a bra in the center of your chest; now that the bra’s off, I need GPS to locate them.
Solution: You’re going to keep your bra on during sex (for world peace).

Problem: Your butt and thighs have more “shopping cart dents” than a Walmart security vehicle.
Solution: Combine a little oil and water in a bottle and spray it all over these parts, instantly giving you the regal sheen of a freshly basted porn star or a stripper breaking a sweat-- two kinds of women guaranteed to get a man from six o’clock to twelve.

Problem: Thanks to those nifty Spanx, we didn’t pick up on your “front butt” until the point of no return.
Solution: Face down, ass up.

Problem: Your breath smells like you’ve been drinking doo-doo shakes.
Solution: Face down, ass up.

Problem: Outside of those shoes your feet look like you’ve been doing roundhouse kicks against a brick wall.
Solution: Socks (anklets, please).

(Our) Problem: We just got too drunk and came home with a 1:50 girl.
(Our) Solution: We’ll turn off the lights and black out the windows. You’re welcome.

Tuesday, March 9, 2010

Another Harsh Truth

If you're over 30 and still think all men suck... you're the problem.

Betting the House, or: Know When to Run

Many women treat their relationships with un-invested men like a gambler betting his savings against the house. The odds are not in their favor but still they place their bets, hoping that a higher power-- God, fate, karma, the Force from Star Wars, perhaps even their own "supernatural" worth and appeal-- will favor them. Nine times out of ten they’ll lose, but all it takes is a single win (however minor) to keep them chained to their addiction like a dancing monkey to an organ grinder.

Kenny Rogers, the Gambler, popularized this famous creed: “You gotta know when to hold ‘em, know when to fold ‘em, know when to walk away and know when to run…” A professional gambler dispassionately calculates her chances of a win, analyzing past and probable outcomes and determining risk versus reward-- but even then she could lose. Imagine the odds for the woman who blindly wagers that her man will remain faithful, appreciate and respect her, be there when she needs him and not exploit her, and commit to something lasting when the past and probability as indicators suggest otherwise.

Would you reach for a venomous snake? Press your hand to a hot stove? Walk barefoot on broken glass? Jump off a bridge? Drink water from a toilet? Maybe-- but would you do these things again… and again… and again? Repeating the same action repetitively and expecting a different outcome is not insanity-- it’s stupidity. He’s betting on you to bet everything on him. That makes him the winner, you the loser.

Monday, March 8, 2010

Why He Cheated on You with "That Ugly Bitch"

When a man is caught cheating his punishment is magnified if the woman he cheated with looks like a busted Jack-O-Lantern. Not sure which is worse-- having your man dip out with someone better or worse looking than you-- but it’s the uglies who seem to ignite the most female uproar.

Anybody remember the women Bill Clinton banged before and during his presidency? It was a virtual rogues gallery. There’s a reason almost all of them went for plastic surgery after selling their tell-alls. Tiger Woods’s ever-growing list of paramours proves he had more than a few dimes in his pocket, but there were plenty of pennies jangling around in there too.

So, the $64,000 question: “Why is he cheating on me with a chupacabra?”

If he finds someone hotter than you he’ll be tempted to leave, but he doesn’t want to leave-- not really-- not from the woman who knows him. You know how to cook his favorite foods, what kinds of gifts to buy him, the beer he likes to drink, how to get the butt stains out of his underwear, etc. You know his mother and his family, his friends and a few co-workers even. And, most importantly, you know secrets. A new girlfriend or wife has to learn him from scratch and there are more pains associated with this than with sticking things out with you (and dipping occasionally).

Cosmo Has Failed You for the Last Time (Hopefully)

I was reading through women’s magazines the other day-- research, of course-- and saw an article in Cosmopolitan about what men’s text messages really mean. Intrigued, I read it, and found that Cosmo has failed you… hopefully for the last time.

Their answers were too reassuring. For instance: If the guy hits you with a line from a comedy, it’s his attempt to be funny; how cute. If the guy sends an indecipherable message, it means that he believes you two are already mentally in-synch; how adorable.

The article never addressed the more nefarious motives behind a man-text nor the reasons why a man would text you about the “important” things rather than calling you directly (this is covered in a previous New Shoes entry).

It was at this point that I realized that women’s magazines coddle you in an attempt to sell issues with bullshit articles such as “101 Things That’ll Drive Him Wild!” [Note: There are really only two or three.] Even when men are consulted they give the answers women want to hear, not the ones they require in order to navigate the minefield that is dating men.

So put that five dollar bill back in your purse and read this blog for free. It might make you sad or pissed off but it won't make you dumber, which means more.

Sunday, March 7, 2010

Family Life as a Mask Men Wear

My opinions and advice are unpopular with some-- mostly married women. They like to go off in my George Foreman something like this:

“I can’t believe the stuff that comes out of your mouth. Thank God my husband is nothing like you, doesn’t have friends like you filling his head with your bullshit. I’ll admit that there are things women do that try men’s nerves but it’s a two-way street. You’d know that if you were married. In the end it’s he and I against the world; that secures our bond. He’s kind, respectful, sincere, responsible, and he loves me, our kids… even my mother! Our wedded bliss defies your logic.”

Of course it does… and it should. Men who want to have their cake and eat it too, who want to act with impunity while avoiding detection and disgrace, who don’t want to burst the bubble you’ve built around this blissful life, don’t call their side-pussy from their regular cell phones or e-mail them from their regular accounts. They don’t go out with their mistresses to places you two frequent, and they don’t deny you sex because they just had it with someone else. They don’t forget special occasions or shy away from their kids. They don’t hesitate to volunteer at the community center, at your church. Being a good husband, he knows, is his ultimate gift to you-- your trophy… his mask.

Family life actually affords a man the optimum cover. There’s a reason corporations favor married job candidates over singles: married men are perceived as more altruistic, dependable, team-oriented, moral, tame, etc. John Edwards was the prototype until he showed his ass; Tiger Woods also. This isn’t to put down marriage-- yours, uniquely-- but to stress that all that glitters isn’t necessarily gold (you’ll earn that distinction after 50 years of defying my bullshit logic).

Saturday, March 6, 2010

Addendum to "Marriage is Like a Cell Phone Contract..."

It should be stated that a cell phone customer can salvage and/or improve their relationship with a provider by communicating any problems with goods and services. This may negate the urge and necessity to seek greener fields. Honest discussion, criticism, and feedback on both sides must occur here or else it's just an exercise in who's at fault and who needs who more.

Marriage is Like a Cell Phone Contract (to Men)

Imagine going to a cell phone store-- let’s call it Mobile-X-- and being pitched to. Their premium plan seems reasonable; they have decent phones, apps, and accessories; and the network is strong. “Sign me up, pronto!”

Now imagine that this contract-- dun, dun, dun!-- is for life.

What happens if Mobile-X alters the terms of the contract? What if they make shitty phones that keep breaking? What if the network keeps obliterating your contacts list? What if U-Wireless, a major competitor, offers better terms and-- wait for it-- no long-term contracts? What if you just want to try out other providers (for the fuck of it)?

To be fair, some people are loyal to their providers-- to a fault. I’ve been with Cingular since I bought my first cell phone plan back in 2001, but it’s not really out of any kind of abiding affection. I’m simply “settled” in my relationship with this company, neither loving nor hating it but ultimately susceptible to the aggressive seduction of a titillating campaign by a competitor or anyone offering a cheap month-to-month plan.

[POSTSCRIPT: If you consider yourself a lifetime contract type of girl, quit, quit, quit offering month-to-month. A man will gladly choose the latter option until it becomes inconvenient, at which time he’ll switch to someone else’s M-2-M. A man locked into a contract will at least consider his “early termination fees” before jumping ship.]

Friday, March 5, 2010

Your Own Worst Frenemy

There’s a type of woman in your SATC crew that we men have identified, even if you haven’t. She’s not a real friend but a part of your social galaxy nevertheless. When you blow up at him you run to tell all your girls about it-- including this woman. Like the rest she listens, nods, reassures you that it’s his fault and not yours, all the while wondering how this benefits her.

Almost every woman, either through complicity or ignorance, has a “frenemy” in their circle of friends.

But why worry about her? She’s not an emergency contact friend. She only infrequently joins the rest of you for girls’ night out. Your relationship is through a mutual friend. She even has another clique of go-to girls.

The problem is that she knows a lot about your man, because you told her. She also knows about the problems you might be having with your man-- because you told her. Yeah, you told the others too, but it doesn’t occur to them to use this intel to give it to you in the back.

“This doesn’t apply to me. I don’t have any so-called frenemies and my man and I are fine.”

The second statement is delusional, the third tentative. Chances are your man knows who your frenemy is. Men have subtle ways of feeling out which of your friends they may be able to “lean on” if things with you become troublesome (a frenemy may readily reveal herself as such). They won’t do this consciously; they won’t even act on it-- unless.

“He wouldn’t want my frenemy anyway. *laugh* She is not cute.”

So? Men just need their egos stroked, and your homely hater friend will do. She already knows what he likes and doesn’t like-- by watching and listening to you-- and because she’s inside your camp she can use disinformation to enable the creep, like so:

“Girl, I know where he was on his lunch break. I ran into him at the mall. I made him confess he was looking for a gift for you!” This is a story that, between he and she, can be corroborated and confirmed (for only $19.99 at Things Remembered).

A New Term for Our Discussions

H.H.S. - any situation where a woman's relationship or attempt at a relationship with a man results in Heartache, Headache, and a Serious waste of time.

I'll be using H.H.S.-- or Double-H.S.-- more and more so familiarize yourselves.

Thursday, March 4, 2010

The New Shoes Forum

Some of you think I'm on the money. Some of you think I'm way off. Some of you think I'm an asshole. And some of you just want the chance to express your own thoughts and opinions.

Create your own profile at the New Shoes Forum. Discuss and debate posts on this blog or present your own topics. Enjoy, folks!

The Love of Your Life is ... Brett Favre?

The day you’ve dreamed of has arrived! The man you love above all others-- your breakup-to-makeup buddy-- your triumph and tragedy-- your “Girl, I love his trifling ass”-- is voiding his player card and settling down. With you. He’s announced his retirement from The Game and is content to let the younger guys play. He’s been a winner long enough and is a future Hall-of-Famer for sure, but all he wants now is to focus on love and monogamy. With you!!!

Now fast forward to the future (near or far depends on the man). He’s restless, full of turmoil. The game by which he defined himself is passing him by. He watches the younger guys having all the fun, telling new stories-- and all he’s got is “Remember when I used to…?” Whether real or the result of nostalgia, he believes he’s still got some juice left in the old “throwing arm.” Calmly, silently, maybe even unconsciously, he begins looking for a "team" that will provide him the “comeback” he needs.

You might want his love forever, but his ultimate commitment is to the game. He tried-- for you, for himself, for his mother wishing for grandkids, for the romantic comedy genre and its crackpot notions-- but for him the game is the game. He probably won’t be as good as he remembers (being with you has diminished his skill sets), but he’ll be back where he belongs… and so will you:

“Girl, I know what you told me, but he's been my boo since high school! If he couldn't commit then why front? It's not like I pressured him, put a gun to his head. UGH!!! DAMN HIM!!!”

Wednesday, March 3, 2010

Amendment to Sex Soundtrack Post

Some people disagreed with an earlier post telling women to skip the music during sex. I'll backpeddle a bit and admit there is one album I wouldn't mind hearing in the moment: The-Dream's Love Vs. Money. But just so you know, money wins.

"If I Were a Boy..."

You’d be hornier than a Viking helmet. You’d pay top dollar to get in the club, then go home alone and frustrated to “Palmela.” You’d kick your boys to the curb to get “quality time,” only to drag your knuckles back to them when she disses you. You’d write corny-ass poetry and long e-mails to your chick about not a goddamn thing. You’d go “huh?” a lot. You'd find creative ways to readjust your junk.

You’d endure long conversations with women about things you don’t give a shit about. You’d weigh the cost of dating against a monthly porn subscription. You’d bathe furiously, do a hundred pushups, and arrive extra early at a broad’s house hoping to bang. You’d dread statements like “We’re not getting any younger” and “I think I wanna keep it.”

You’d question if the dude she’s getting into it with could knock you out of your shoes. You’d wonder if she’ll get as big as her mother, the starting left tackle. You’d think about that future day when the people laughing at those Cialis commercials will be laughing at you. You’d find out if you were living in a community property state. You’d hold in your lethal farts for her and listen to your guts howl. You'd struggle to get it all in the toilet, from age 8 to 88.

You’d resent being expected to read her mind. You’d answer “What are you thinking?” with “Nothing” instead of “Shut the hell up.” You’d keep a diary, so they’d know why you snapped. You’d ask how marriage benefits you. You’d burp (smells like breakfast). You’d hope for a front clasp on her bra. You’d wonder how much extra ass a degree in ________ would get you. You’d want to hang out with your boys at a “we-never-close” swapping stories about queefs and wrong holes over endless pancakes-- forever.

...but you’re just a girl.

Another Harsh Truth

If a man has a king-size bed in his place it’s so he can get away from you after sex.

Tuesday, March 2, 2010

The Crucible of the Female Professional: Part 1

A friend today asked me to address why so many female professionals remain single. A few brief points:

You’re a “man” now: You have to stay late at work, your schedule is tricky, you can’t be out all night, you’re supporting yourself and can’t make frivolous purchases, you have a professional reputation to uphold, and so forth-- pretty much the things men have always had to date around; boppers and hoodrats, they don’t have to reconcile any of these impediments and are thus at a man’s beck and call

“I deserve more”: This can be debated with men and between women all day, but it’s just a fact that the more a woman has earned in money and position the more she feels entitled to in terms of a mate; women are simple and complex at the same time, needing an honest man who is consistently concerned yet acknowledging that “a woman who’s on her Oprah grind can’t date just anybody!”; men-- especially minorities-- feeling now more than ever the pressure to be at a certain level, understand a woman’s expectations only as an indictment of their character, abilities, and overall worth; lacking the ability and/or courage to articulate this fear, they easily dismiss you in favor of insipid or weak-minded females

Power: It’s rare among animals that females dominate a hierarchy (lions, hyenas, orcas [oh, my!]), but among humans this is changing fast; women are in greater control of their financial circumstances and thus their sexual, relationship, and childrearing options; men are threatened by this but know that destroying a strong, professional woman outright would be considered wholly evil; instead they seek to make pariahs of you, shunning you and sending strong verbal and non-verbal messages that they won’t be with a woman who can challenge them, even if that’s the furthest thing from your mind

Meditate on and discuss these and we’ll examine other factors in future entries.


You’ve broken up with your boyfriend… for the last time… you hope. But the devil you know is better than the devil you don’t know, and you continue to sleep with your ex, eat with your ex, and bend your ex’s ear on the phone about work (which he still doesn’t care about). You, m’lady, have returned to state of an “in-between.”

“What’s an in-between, and what do you mean ‘returned’?”

Remember that time in between when you and he were merely dating and when you were in a full-on relationship? You were probably “hanging out” a good deal without any real borders, expectations, or demands-- hence, in-between.

This was probably the most fulfilling time of your man’s relationship with you-- unbeknownst to you, of course-- and now he’s been re-introduced to the in-between, the milk minus the cow (and the mooing). He’ll buy in as long as you’re selling, and you’ll be selling long time because it’s better than the alternative: an “empowering” slumber party starring you, your in-between friends, and a case of Moscato (the female’s Hennessy)!!!

Monday, March 1, 2010

"I Didn't Know You Worked in Corrections."

Men don’t like it when you try to correct their behavior. You know this but you do it anyway. You see a man as a project, unfinished.

“No, I don’t. I’m fine with him the way he is or else I wouldn’t be with him.”

Yeah… yeah, that’s bullshit.

An alpha male will fight you at every turn, leaving the toilet seat up on purpose and dragging ass to get dressed for functions you care about (like that spina bifida charity thing). A beta male will argue then make the changes then revert back slowly, until one night you find yourself sitting in the toilet or again smell the odor of Camel cigarettes (“Those nicotine patches don’t do shit for me!”). An Omega male will kowtow to your every “adjustment” but will come to resent you; all it takes is ribbing from his friends and he’ll transform into a human tornado on your ass.

The moral? He’ll be what he’ll be, same as you. He could just as easily argue that if he can put down the toilet seat after using it then you can lift it up following your turn. You’re dating a man as is-- let the woman beware.