Thursday, September 23, 2010
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Sunday, December 20, 2009
Screw Me like Tiger but pay me my 80 million dollars first
Screw me like Tiger, but pay me my 80 million dollars first!
To say that Tiger Wood’s indiscretions and extramarital affairs have been the most talked about story this week would be an understatement, as everyday more breaking news have surfaced. Men, women and children have been glued to the media outlets, watching as this squeaky clean sport celebrity’s private life is intruded upon daily, in full public view. It seems like Tiger was a freak behind closed doors!
As we learn about his numerous alleged affairs, all supposedly over the last few years, everyone has an opinion about his character and what his wife’s reaction should be. Women are up in arms about his doggish ways and some men, not surprisingly, are coming to his defense. Statistics report that over 75 percent of married men cheat, and most of them go for an extra affair within the first three years of their marriage.
Many married men, including some of my close friends, are asking, “So what is the big deal?” “Sandy, I could use a couple more pum pum’s right now miself. You just don’t understand how men think,” a very close, married friend of mine disclosed a couple days ago as we discussed the Wood’s situation. “Yu not a man, so you just don’t understand the sexual desires of men,” he tried to explain. Bewildered, yet curious to get to the bottom of this man woman business, I listened intently, while trying to interject a few points of my own. “Donovan, (obviously not his real name, but he would be very angry if I used his real name in this piece), I have the same sexual drive as you do Donovan,” I say to him. “I get turned on if I see a sexy man walking down the street with bow legs and 14 size shoes. Men just think with their little heads instead of their big heads,” I say to him. He chuckles and replies, “But yu different than most women Sandy. Most women don’t like to have sex that often.” “Yu don’t know my girlfriends,” I say to him. All Straight freaks, in my opinion!
Tiger , because of his “transgressions,” as he puts it, has now reportedly agreed to pay Elin Woods a whopping 5 million immediately ,plus an additional 75 million, up from the previously agreed upon 20 million in her pre-nuptial agreement ,if she agrees to stay with him over a certain period of time. Following on the heels of scandals surrounding other celebrities and sports superstars such as Kobe Bryant, David Letterman, Elliot Spitzer, and Michael Jordan just to name a few, Elin Woods has now officially joined the group being called, “Wives who are now stinking rich because of their husband’s inability to keep it in his pants,” group.
Where is my 80 million I ask? Should I then call up my ex-boyfriends and let them know that they actually owe me and my girlfriend’s money and that I would like it in cash immediately? How was it that I only walked away with tears and dirty boxers after a man who cheated on me left? Eighty million would certainly help me financially right now as I struggle to stay ahead of my bills in this tough economy.
So to all prospective boyfriends I say,” It is okay for you to cheat on me, as I,” as my friend Donovan insists, “don’t understand man business.” I will use your money wisely to ease the pain. New Manolo Blahnik shoes, Gucci handbags and a nice red Mercedes Convertible will certainly make me smile again. However, 30 year old muscular boy toy, with bow legs and size 14 shoes , and who is ready to please me in an instant ,will be my very first purchase, as I try to mend my poor broken heart.
So please, you can screw me like Tiger anytime baby! Just cut me the cheque first!
To say that Tiger Wood’s indiscretions and extramarital affairs have been the most talked about story this week would be an understatement, as everyday more breaking news have surfaced. Men, women and children have been glued to the media outlets, watching as this squeaky clean sport celebrity’s private life is intruded upon daily, in full public view. It seems like Tiger was a freak behind closed doors!
As we learn about his numerous alleged affairs, all supposedly over the last few years, everyone has an opinion about his character and what his wife’s reaction should be. Women are up in arms about his doggish ways and some men, not surprisingly, are coming to his defense. Statistics report that over 75 percent of married men cheat, and most of them go for an extra affair within the first three years of their marriage.
Many married men, including some of my close friends, are asking, “So what is the big deal?” “Sandy, I could use a couple more pum pum’s right now miself. You just don’t understand how men think,” a very close, married friend of mine disclosed a couple days ago as we discussed the Wood’s situation. “Yu not a man, so you just don’t understand the sexual desires of men,” he tried to explain. Bewildered, yet curious to get to the bottom of this man woman business, I listened intently, while trying to interject a few points of my own. “Donovan, (obviously not his real name, but he would be very angry if I used his real name in this piece), I have the same sexual drive as you do Donovan,” I say to him. “I get turned on if I see a sexy man walking down the street with bow legs and 14 size shoes. Men just think with their little heads instead of their big heads,” I say to him. He chuckles and replies, “But yu different than most women Sandy. Most women don’t like to have sex that often.” “Yu don’t know my girlfriends,” I say to him. All Straight freaks, in my opinion!
Tiger , because of his “transgressions,” as he puts it, has now reportedly agreed to pay Elin Woods a whopping 5 million immediately ,plus an additional 75 million, up from the previously agreed upon 20 million in her pre-nuptial agreement ,if she agrees to stay with him over a certain period of time. Following on the heels of scandals surrounding other celebrities and sports superstars such as Kobe Bryant, David Letterman, Elliot Spitzer, and Michael Jordan just to name a few, Elin Woods has now officially joined the group being called, “Wives who are now stinking rich because of their husband’s inability to keep it in his pants,” group.
Where is my 80 million I ask? Should I then call up my ex-boyfriends and let them know that they actually owe me and my girlfriend’s money and that I would like it in cash immediately? How was it that I only walked away with tears and dirty boxers after a man who cheated on me left? Eighty million would certainly help me financially right now as I struggle to stay ahead of my bills in this tough economy.
So to all prospective boyfriends I say,” It is okay for you to cheat on me, as I,” as my friend Donovan insists, “don’t understand man business.” I will use your money wisely to ease the pain. New Manolo Blahnik shoes, Gucci handbags and a nice red Mercedes Convertible will certainly make me smile again. However, 30 year old muscular boy toy, with bow legs and size 14 shoes , and who is ready to please me in an instant ,will be my very first purchase, as I try to mend my poor broken heart.
So please, you can screw me like Tiger anytime baby! Just cut me the cheque first!
No More Granny Panties Please
No More Granny Panties Please!
There is an old, unwritten rule which states, “A man wants a lady in the streets and a whore in the bedroom.” How is this accomplished by women wearing granny panties and tie heads to bed, especially during marriage? Effective as they may be to keep your weave intact and your rear warm, most men are turned off by this look.
Many women, not all of course, wear thongs, sexy lingerie, perfume and stilettos to get the man, but do nothing to keep him! These bad habits undeniably contribute to the infrequency of sex during marriage. Up to 48 percent of women, when polled ,admitted to faking an orgasm!
Some women also view sex as a “duty,” and refuse to make love to their mates unless forced to. Should wives not be vamping it up in the bedroom, swinging on the chandeliers or stripper poles, and whipping out the whipped cream, in order to keep their husbands satisfied? He has after all, “Put a ring on it,” like Beyonce sings, so give him the prize. Her H.O.V.A. or JZ, his surely getting his! He deserves it! Have you seen Beyonce’s rock?
Men, from all walks of life, complain daily about their “mistreatment” as they call it, at home. Loren, a very dear friend of mine, often complains to me about his wife’s lack of affection towards him, sexually and otherwise. I am held captive in his Nutrition store at least once a week, like a mouse caught in a trap. He really needs a physiatrist’s chair in his shop, as I am contemplating charging him for my opinions. “Sandy, yu know that the last time that we had sex was 3 months ago, and she will not approach me unless I insist on it?”, he says in his broken patois. Poor thing! I realize that he needs a shoulder to cry on and listen intently, while loudly drinking his blend of a protein shake, made with rich strawberries and almost ripe bananas.
Surprised, and at a loss for words I reply, “Loren, I am sure that if you talk to her she will come around,” I say to him. “Will I never learn?” I ask myself internally. I should know by now that I would not be able to leave on time once I have sat down. There goes my Desperate Housewives! Again! However, I am his friend so I ask, “Have you ever tried couples counseling or a couple’s retreat?” . I love gossip as much as the next woman, but picturing Loren banging his wife was indeed a turnoff, as I know them both very well.
His bald head, pale white skin and her slinky black legs and long weave, was too much for my poor little brain to handle. Many women however will defend Loren’s wife’s actions and admit to doing the same. “Who have time fe mek love? Me don’t even have time to even scratch me head!,” they say. Can we then only blame our men for cheating? Do we not play a role in it, sometimes?. Men are visual creatures; give them something at home to look at constantly.
I personally do not own a pair of granny panties myself ,as I enjoy seeing the toned rear that I have sculpted over the last few years. “Sandy, yu no fraid se u catch cold ina yu behind?” my friends ask. “No girl,” I often reply. “My rear is too tough for such a thing.”
Of course sex is not the most important part of a marriage, but it is still a very important part of a relationship. Ladies, you should also remember that whatever you will not do for your man, another woman will.
I guarantee you that Matey, as we lovingly call the girl on the side, has her thongs and stilettos! Outsmart her by wearing your thongs and stilettos to bed!
There is an old, unwritten rule which states, “A man wants a lady in the streets and a whore in the bedroom.” How is this accomplished by women wearing granny panties and tie heads to bed, especially during marriage? Effective as they may be to keep your weave intact and your rear warm, most men are turned off by this look.
Many women, not all of course, wear thongs, sexy lingerie, perfume and stilettos to get the man, but do nothing to keep him! These bad habits undeniably contribute to the infrequency of sex during marriage. Up to 48 percent of women, when polled ,admitted to faking an orgasm!
Some women also view sex as a “duty,” and refuse to make love to their mates unless forced to. Should wives not be vamping it up in the bedroom, swinging on the chandeliers or stripper poles, and whipping out the whipped cream, in order to keep their husbands satisfied? He has after all, “Put a ring on it,” like Beyonce sings, so give him the prize. Her H.O.V.A. or JZ, his surely getting his! He deserves it! Have you seen Beyonce’s rock?
Men, from all walks of life, complain daily about their “mistreatment” as they call it, at home. Loren, a very dear friend of mine, often complains to me about his wife’s lack of affection towards him, sexually and otherwise. I am held captive in his Nutrition store at least once a week, like a mouse caught in a trap. He really needs a physiatrist’s chair in his shop, as I am contemplating charging him for my opinions. “Sandy, yu know that the last time that we had sex was 3 months ago, and she will not approach me unless I insist on it?”, he says in his broken patois. Poor thing! I realize that he needs a shoulder to cry on and listen intently, while loudly drinking his blend of a protein shake, made with rich strawberries and almost ripe bananas.
Surprised, and at a loss for words I reply, “Loren, I am sure that if you talk to her she will come around,” I say to him. “Will I never learn?” I ask myself internally. I should know by now that I would not be able to leave on time once I have sat down. There goes my Desperate Housewives! Again! However, I am his friend so I ask, “Have you ever tried couples counseling or a couple’s retreat?” . I love gossip as much as the next woman, but picturing Loren banging his wife was indeed a turnoff, as I know them both very well.
His bald head, pale white skin and her slinky black legs and long weave, was too much for my poor little brain to handle. Many women however will defend Loren’s wife’s actions and admit to doing the same. “Who have time fe mek love? Me don’t even have time to even scratch me head!,” they say. Can we then only blame our men for cheating? Do we not play a role in it, sometimes?. Men are visual creatures; give them something at home to look at constantly.
I personally do not own a pair of granny panties myself ,as I enjoy seeing the toned rear that I have sculpted over the last few years. “Sandy, yu no fraid se u catch cold ina yu behind?” my friends ask. “No girl,” I often reply. “My rear is too tough for such a thing.”
Of course sex is not the most important part of a marriage, but it is still a very important part of a relationship. Ladies, you should also remember that whatever you will not do for your man, another woman will.
I guarantee you that Matey, as we lovingly call the girl on the side, has her thongs and stilettos! Outsmart her by wearing your thongs and stilettos to bed!
Monday, November 2, 2009
Good hair or Good Sex
Good Hair or Good Sex? Which would you choose?
To say that Chris Rock has stirred up deeply rooted emotions, warranted or unwarranted, amongst black women in his new film, “Good Hair,” would be an understatement. The movie, a satirical look at black women and their hair, has received critical acclaim from the critics, but sneers and snubs from the “Sistas” and is now a water cooler topic.” “Why examine ourselves and put our business out in the public?. Don’t we have enough troubles?,” they ask.
It is staggering the amount of money spent by black women on their hair, contrary to their white girlfriends. Collectively, we spend over 9 billion dollars for our hair to look white every year ,and individually over $800, and this is just on relaxers alone. To take it even one step further, many women, have happily forfeited a prospective love making session, terrified that their hair might get ruined! Some even charge the men if their hair gets messed up!
My appointment at my hairdresser’s salon, who has now become one of my closest friends, is etched in stone for every Thursday at 10am. Come hell or high water, I am there at 9:50am sharp, eating either ackee and salt fish and dumplings or mackerel and dumplings, at the Jamaican restaurant adjacent to her salon, waiting patiently for her to arrive. She usually saunters in at around 10:15am, cursing me lovingly under her breath as she complains, “Sandy, why can’t you ever be late for a change?” I ignore her and eat continue to eat my food.
As a young girl growing up in Jamaica, Jaffreys was the relaxer of choice by everyone. This chemical relaxer, the mother of all relaxers, guaranteed to make you look like an Indian girl, instilled enormous pain, made tears run freely, and created scars and sores in your head every six to eight weeks. I, along with every other little Jamaican girl, endured pain and agony at the hand of our stylists. While Dottie, my mom’s stylist and now mine, creamed my hair from roots to end, I silently begged for death to either myself, Dottie or my mother. ‘Sandy, hold your darn head straight nuh gal pickney,” she would say. “Yu mada said that the last time your hair was not done properly and is blaming me. You know how she is.” “Well, maybe she should have married a coolie man and not my dry head father,” I wanted to say, but of course I held my tongue and cried silently instead.
To this day I attribute my obsession with weaves, the Remy kind of course, to the abuse I was put through as a child in my mother’s attempt to ensure that I was seen as a little coolie girl, versus just being straight black. Many women, we conclude, ignore their lovers in order to keep their hair intact, while others prioritize their looks over other important tasks. Whereas I might not forfeit the lovemaking, however, I must admit that in the past, Remy hair has won in the fight with my monthly car payment. “The leasing company was already rich,” I rationalized, and, “At least I could take the bus and still look fly!”
While there is no thought in my head at this moment about a prospective lover or husband, I am however consumed with the burning question, “I wonder if de Remy Goddess that I buy comes in a body wave style?” As I am going on a cruise in a few weeks, I must organize my hair in advance! There might be something to Chris Rock’s movie after all!
To say that Chris Rock has stirred up deeply rooted emotions, warranted or unwarranted, amongst black women in his new film, “Good Hair,” would be an understatement. The movie, a satirical look at black women and their hair, has received critical acclaim from the critics, but sneers and snubs from the “Sistas” and is now a water cooler topic.” “Why examine ourselves and put our business out in the public?. Don’t we have enough troubles?,” they ask.
It is staggering the amount of money spent by black women on their hair, contrary to their white girlfriends. Collectively, we spend over 9 billion dollars for our hair to look white every year ,and individually over $800, and this is just on relaxers alone. To take it even one step further, many women, have happily forfeited a prospective love making session, terrified that their hair might get ruined! Some even charge the men if their hair gets messed up!
My appointment at my hairdresser’s salon, who has now become one of my closest friends, is etched in stone for every Thursday at 10am. Come hell or high water, I am there at 9:50am sharp, eating either ackee and salt fish and dumplings or mackerel and dumplings, at the Jamaican restaurant adjacent to her salon, waiting patiently for her to arrive. She usually saunters in at around 10:15am, cursing me lovingly under her breath as she complains, “Sandy, why can’t you ever be late for a change?” I ignore her and eat continue to eat my food.
As a young girl growing up in Jamaica, Jaffreys was the relaxer of choice by everyone. This chemical relaxer, the mother of all relaxers, guaranteed to make you look like an Indian girl, instilled enormous pain, made tears run freely, and created scars and sores in your head every six to eight weeks. I, along with every other little Jamaican girl, endured pain and agony at the hand of our stylists. While Dottie, my mom’s stylist and now mine, creamed my hair from roots to end, I silently begged for death to either myself, Dottie or my mother. ‘Sandy, hold your darn head straight nuh gal pickney,” she would say. “Yu mada said that the last time your hair was not done properly and is blaming me. You know how she is.” “Well, maybe she should have married a coolie man and not my dry head father,” I wanted to say, but of course I held my tongue and cried silently instead.
To this day I attribute my obsession with weaves, the Remy kind of course, to the abuse I was put through as a child in my mother’s attempt to ensure that I was seen as a little coolie girl, versus just being straight black. Many women, we conclude, ignore their lovers in order to keep their hair intact, while others prioritize their looks over other important tasks. Whereas I might not forfeit the lovemaking, however, I must admit that in the past, Remy hair has won in the fight with my monthly car payment. “The leasing company was already rich,” I rationalized, and, “At least I could take the bus and still look fly!”
While there is no thought in my head at this moment about a prospective lover or husband, I am however consumed with the burning question, “I wonder if de Remy Goddess that I buy comes in a body wave style?” As I am going on a cruise in a few weeks, I must organize my hair in advance! There might be something to Chris Rock’s movie after all!
Monday, October 12, 2009
Yogasm instead of an Orgasm:Replacing love with a yoga mat!
According to the Statistics, sixty percent of black women have either never married or are divorced. Yikes! What should I and my single girlfriends attribute our dire situation to? Lack of good men? No, there are good men still out there it is believed. No time? No, we find the time to do whatever is necessary, even with our hectic schedules. A low sex drive? No, most women, including myself, are vibrant human beings with the stamina of a 25 year old young woman. So then, what was the real reason? Why are women not taking the bull by the horn and dating more to find that special person? Why is it that my yoga mat has seemingly replaced a desire for Mr. Right my life?
Like some women, I can be seen running on the streets frantically, or burning rubber on Highway 401, (cursing everyone in my way of course, even someone in a wheelchair that I almost ran over), as I rushed to catch my yoga class.To be fair to myself in that situation, I must say that the lady in the wheelchair came out of nowhere on the King Street. It was like she was driving a sports car or something! Ninety minutes of hot yoga torture, almost the exact amount of time for lovemaking, (foreplay not included of course). Of course the benefits are amazing to the overall look of the body, but what are tight, leaned, toned arms and a rounded rear- end if no one is there to appreciate your hard work? The ability to place one’s legs over one’s head does not come in handy in the office and surely goes wasted.
Of course I have become the butt of all my girlfriends’ jokes. “Sandy, u a go to your yoga again?” Yu no fraid seh u brok yu darn neck gal?” they ask Needless to say, their point hits home but an admission of guilt from me is never going to be done.“You guys are just jealous. You wish that you had my skills,” I often reply. Being able to perform the, “downward dog,” a popular yoga move which instructs you to put both hands and feet on the floor while pushing back with your legs and derriere in the air, easily achieved by me, surely cannot possible be accomplished by them I rationalize to myself.
It appears that a lot of successful women, do not make their relationships a priority: no time for love. Unless we change our daily routines and make time for love, our love lives will forever remain unfulfilled. You will forever be in your living rooms, alone, wondering why your girlfriends, some with bad credit, bad hair and wrinkled bodies , have husbands and you do not. Why you are not the one fighting with your man for the remote control or scolding him about leaving the toilet seat up. Again! How many times do you have to fall into the toilet, filled with water, before he listens? Aww,The joys of married life!
Hot yoga, fulfilling as it is for the 90 minutes, cannot replace the love of a good man. I, like all other over- achievers, must tackle the problem head on and stop the escapism: be it hot yoga, like mine. Escapism rears it’s ugly head in many forms and often consumes your thoughts and every action. Figure out what is yours and what you are running from . Hopefully soon I will be able to say, Namasta! (Yoga terminology which means I give you my light), to my lover instead of to a sweaty yoga mat, a really tanned instructor and strangers in tiny bikinis, and even tinier see-through Speedos.
Like some women, I can be seen running on the streets frantically, or burning rubber on Highway 401, (cursing everyone in my way of course, even someone in a wheelchair that I almost ran over), as I rushed to catch my yoga class.To be fair to myself in that situation, I must say that the lady in the wheelchair came out of nowhere on the King Street. It was like she was driving a sports car or something! Ninety minutes of hot yoga torture, almost the exact amount of time for lovemaking, (foreplay not included of course). Of course the benefits are amazing to the overall look of the body, but what are tight, leaned, toned arms and a rounded rear- end if no one is there to appreciate your hard work? The ability to place one’s legs over one’s head does not come in handy in the office and surely goes wasted.
Of course I have become the butt of all my girlfriends’ jokes. “Sandy, u a go to your yoga again?” Yu no fraid seh u brok yu darn neck gal?” they ask Needless to say, their point hits home but an admission of guilt from me is never going to be done.“You guys are just jealous. You wish that you had my skills,” I often reply. Being able to perform the, “downward dog,” a popular yoga move which instructs you to put both hands and feet on the floor while pushing back with your legs and derriere in the air, easily achieved by me, surely cannot possible be accomplished by them I rationalize to myself.
It appears that a lot of successful women, do not make their relationships a priority: no time for love. Unless we change our daily routines and make time for love, our love lives will forever remain unfulfilled. You will forever be in your living rooms, alone, wondering why your girlfriends, some with bad credit, bad hair and wrinkled bodies , have husbands and you do not. Why you are not the one fighting with your man for the remote control or scolding him about leaving the toilet seat up. Again! How many times do you have to fall into the toilet, filled with water, before he listens? Aww,The joys of married life!
Hot yoga, fulfilling as it is for the 90 minutes, cannot replace the love of a good man. I, like all other over- achievers, must tackle the problem head on and stop the escapism: be it hot yoga, like mine. Escapism rears it’s ugly head in many forms and often consumes your thoughts and every action. Figure out what is yours and what you are running from . Hopefully soon I will be able to say, Namasta! (Yoga terminology which means I give you my light), to my lover instead of to a sweaty yoga mat, a really tanned instructor and strangers in tiny bikinis, and even tinier see-through Speedos.
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Play De Fool to Ketch Wise
Playing Dumb to Keep Your Man!
They say that a smart woman rules the home but makes her man believe that he is the King of his castle. A woman’s job, people say, is to be smart enough to know when to take a backseat, while allowed the while being the driver of the car. She must allow her partner to make his mistakes, and when he is ready and willing, he will do as she desires. Her role, they say, is to make her man feel wanted, loved, admired and respected, all without emasculating him in the process. How tiring! Who really has the time for all that work, plus all the other things that one has to take care of? Certainly not me! Then again, maybe that is why I single with no one by my side.
Women are expected to care for the kids, maintain a clean home, bring home the bacon, and at the same time look like Halle Berry and Beyonce combined. The last time I checked, Wonder Woman was the last Superwoman, and she was a fictional character, cultivated from someone’s imaginary mind. The funny thing though is that many women, including myself, try to live up to these unreasonable expectations. I cannot tell you the amount of times that I jumped out of bed at 7 am to prepare my ex-husband’s ham sandwich for lunch for the day, or pack him a lunch container from the previous night’s dinner. This, of course, was after making passionate love to him in the morning before his day began. Gosh, he was a lucky man! Why did we break up again? Oh I remember now, he cheated on me with the pretty little Pilipino girl at work, while getting all the loving at home as well. How could I have ever forgotten? I am not saying that all men cheat, because trust me, I really do not believe that, but he did, so I left!
I, of course would also get the kids ready for school, work full-time, visit the gym regularly and still take care of the home. This cycle continued on for years in my household. I am positive I am not the only woman who has done this type of crazy, I am Superwoman, hear me roar, utter madness. To make matters worse, I was not allowed to take full credit for all my work, and to this day my ex still maintains the position that he held our family together for years. What a bunch of crock! I am so happy that I do not have to feed his ego anymore. ‘Let little Miss Pilipino take over the work of cooking, cleaning, feeding his ego,” I said to myself. “It was time for me to bust loose from my chains,” I thought
My nickname for him was, and still is, “Captain of the Ship, master of nothing.” I remember him very vividly saying to me on many occasions, “Sandy, yu no think yu should tell Shane and Warren, (our two boys), to use a coaster on the centre table?” he would ask. Why could he not tell them I thought to myself back then? Was I the only parent in the house? He was truly not a bad person and we are very to this day, much to the chagrin of his current wife. The lady has self esteem issues, what else can I say? In my mind, his current wife is now his court jester. The baton has been passed to her and passed willingly by me!
The thought of me continuously feeding my ex-husband’s ego on a daily basis really got to me and so I felt compelled to leave. Coupled with the fact that he of course stepped out of our relationship. Am I the only one who sees the injustice and unfairness in this? Why do women have to in turn play the fool to keep their man happy and his ego intact? Maybe this is why I am unmarried and still very single!
Maybe one of these days I will learn to play de fool in order to keep my man! Not yet! I am not ready for that as yet!
They say that a smart woman rules the home but makes her man believe that he is the King of his castle. A woman’s job, people say, is to be smart enough to know when to take a backseat, while allowed the while being the driver of the car. She must allow her partner to make his mistakes, and when he is ready and willing, he will do as she desires. Her role, they say, is to make her man feel wanted, loved, admired and respected, all without emasculating him in the process. How tiring! Who really has the time for all that work, plus all the other things that one has to take care of? Certainly not me! Then again, maybe that is why I single with no one by my side.
Women are expected to care for the kids, maintain a clean home, bring home the bacon, and at the same time look like Halle Berry and Beyonce combined. The last time I checked, Wonder Woman was the last Superwoman, and she was a fictional character, cultivated from someone’s imaginary mind. The funny thing though is that many women, including myself, try to live up to these unreasonable expectations. I cannot tell you the amount of times that I jumped out of bed at 7 am to prepare my ex-husband’s ham sandwich for lunch for the day, or pack him a lunch container from the previous night’s dinner. This, of course, was after making passionate love to him in the morning before his day began. Gosh, he was a lucky man! Why did we break up again? Oh I remember now, he cheated on me with the pretty little Pilipino girl at work, while getting all the loving at home as well. How could I have ever forgotten? I am not saying that all men cheat, because trust me, I really do not believe that, but he did, so I left!
I, of course would also get the kids ready for school, work full-time, visit the gym regularly and still take care of the home. This cycle continued on for years in my household. I am positive I am not the only woman who has done this type of crazy, I am Superwoman, hear me roar, utter madness. To make matters worse, I was not allowed to take full credit for all my work, and to this day my ex still maintains the position that he held our family together for years. What a bunch of crock! I am so happy that I do not have to feed his ego anymore. ‘Let little Miss Pilipino take over the work of cooking, cleaning, feeding his ego,” I said to myself. “It was time for me to bust loose from my chains,” I thought
My nickname for him was, and still is, “Captain of the Ship, master of nothing.” I remember him very vividly saying to me on many occasions, “Sandy, yu no think yu should tell Shane and Warren, (our two boys), to use a coaster on the centre table?” he would ask. Why could he not tell them I thought to myself back then? Was I the only parent in the house? He was truly not a bad person and we are very to this day, much to the chagrin of his current wife. The lady has self esteem issues, what else can I say? In my mind, his current wife is now his court jester. The baton has been passed to her and passed willingly by me!
The thought of me continuously feeding my ex-husband’s ego on a daily basis really got to me and so I felt compelled to leave. Coupled with the fact that he of course stepped out of our relationship. Am I the only one who sees the injustice and unfairness in this? Why do women have to in turn play the fool to keep their man happy and his ego intact? Maybe this is why I am unmarried and still very single!
Maybe one of these days I will learn to play de fool in order to keep my man! Not yet! I am not ready for that as yet!
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