Life in 3D: True Intimacy

There is a point in every relationship where a girl knows she is really in love.  It is not always at first sight, first kiss, even first time you two have sex.  It is not even the first time you say “I love you.”  For me, the first I know that I really love a guy is the first time I clean his apartment.

First off, I am NO clean freak.  I have some serious organizational issues.  The first of which are my clothes and shoes are in a constant state of chaos.  Even when I do laundry and everything is put up, it can take just one indecisive session of “I have nothing to wear” where I pull out everything in my closet, throw it on the bed until I find just the right outfit that expresses my true inner self at the moment.  Being that I, like most women, our “true selves” can shift and get out of joint like a pair of panties with the a shot elastic band is why we have and NEED more than thirty pairs of shoes.  That being said, unless I am in severe state of depression, my dishes are usually done and my bathroom clean.  I might be cluttery, but I am clean. 

So, I have a new boyfriend.  Totally sweet guy.  Although I resisted at first, his nerdy charms and overt attempts to woo me, I am wooed.  He really is cute and super smart.  He treats me like a queen even though he lives in squalor.  Okay, it is not really squalor.   He lives in a very nice apartment in a much better part of town than I live in and he has very nice furnishings, appliances and nice clothes.  You just can’t see the furnishings and appliances for all the crap strewn everywhere.  He has a twelve-year-old son so basically you have the mess of your average straight male times 1.5. 

The first thing I cleaned was the kitchen.  It was gross.  Now, I have seen worse.  There wasn’t anything growing anywhere, just that I refused to use the microwave for fear that the use of the radon beams would somehow animate the months of caked on crud and become the latest Marvel villain illustrating society’s over-reliance on technology.  Either that or a 50’s B-grade Horror Movie: “The Barbecue Left Behind.”

I have been kind of sick the last few days and have been basically hanging out at his apartment drinking lots of cranberry juice and watching cable.  The dog has been over here too at my side.  I believe in the healing power of puppy.  But today, I am feeling better and just had to do something.  I decided if I am going to spend more and more time over here: sleeping, eating, writing, working, showering, etc., that I could not live with the caked on food on the stove, the stacked up Coke Zero bottles in the living room, and the little flecks of red beard stubble in the sink.  I love this man, his child, and myself and it was time to make a commitment.  If I was going to stay with him and visit his place as often as I have been I had to take a stand for “us” and against germs.

I guess the ritual cleaning of the apartment (in his absence) sends a message that the woman is “nesting.”  She wants to make the apartment/house/hut/cave more inhabitable to herself and any offspring the relationship might create.  Call it nature, evolution, call it love, there is just something that says “I want to stay with you” like Lysol. 

Women of the World Beware of the Charm of Southern Men

Because they will charm the pants right off of you.  That is their mission, it is their duty, and it will be your undoing.

I am not saying that Midwestern Men don’t have their moments, because they do.  Once you actually get them to notice you and with a great amount of subtle and not so subtle hints of your availability, they might ask you to their bedrooms to pleasure them, if it is not too much of an inconvenience, if they are not busy with work or hanging out with the guys or if a sporting event is on TV.  If you meet those criteria, they are somewhat serviceable.

It has been my rather limited experience that Southern men take it to the next level.  A Southern Man will sweep you off your feet “Gone with the Wind” style ala’ Clark Gable and you’ll never see it coming.

First is the pursuit.  If a Southern man finds a girl he desires he will pursue her relentlessly.  None of that “take it or leave it” bullshit men from other regions pull.  By the way, men, we fucking hate that.  Any woman who will put up with that shit gets what she deserves. I had a man chat me up at a gas station and then literally chase me down a highway to get my number.  As psycho as that sounds, it worked.  And it worked because he was stupidly handsome, undeniably charming, and damn persistent.  How could a girl say no?  I had the choice to either pull over or call the cops.  Either way, one of us was going to surrender.

The next thing is how they kiss.  Oh my God, can Southern men kiss!  Jesus Christ!  I think I need a moment.  I’m good, I’m good.  Whew, just thinking about it makes me woozy.  Now, I have fallen for a few Southern transplants in the North and I thought it was a fluke.  Nope, all men from the South know how to kiss.  If a man has spent at least a portion of his formative years in the South, he learned how to kiss.  It was like they were all in on the same kissing seminar that they did not tell the Yankees, Midwesterners, or the West Coast-is.  Can you blame them?  I am not saying that they have the same technique.  I have not kissed every single guy from the half a dozen or so states that claim to be “The South,” but I think enough to make an educated guess that somewhere they learned to kiss with their whole mouths, nay, I say their entire being.  They get so wrapped up in that kiss, so intent and single-minded of purpose that nothing distracts them from the kiss.  I don’t know what they are thinking, because I know I lose my mind when they kiss me like that.  Other guys you know that they are just kissing you to get to “the good stuff” or so we don’t complain that they are not “romantic.”  They kiss you like they would like to fast forward through this section like coming attractions on their favorite Adam Sandler DVD.  Southern men take their time, like they got nothing else better to do than to kiss your mouth and make the two of you happy.   Like Scarlett O’Hara, when you have been kissed by a Southern Man, you have been kissed, and kissed properly.

Ladies, do not get out your wallet, because a Southern Gentlemen will not allow you to pay, at least initially.  He might be broke as hell and scrounging coins from his pick-up to treat you to the dollar menu at McDonald’s but he is sure as hell going to pay.  But be warned, just because he is shelling out big bucks in the beginning does not mean he’s loaded, it just means he is trying to win you over.  Do not be fooled, but do go with it.  Modern Southern men did get the memo that we can take care of themselves, but isn’t it sweet to let them try? 

Southern Men are not so troubled with a little thickness, at least not all of them.  I have heard some immature Midwestern men say that they might like a heavier girl for her personality, or might genuinely be attracted to her, but won’t pursue her because he is afraid what his friends might say.  Southern men do not give a shit about such things.  First of all, the South has a higher obesity rate seconded only by the Midwest, but they don’t seem to care.  Down here, if you don’t like chubby girls, then you don’t like girls because they all can’t bang the skinny blonde at the bar all at the same time.  And some of them like “something’ to hold on to.”  Now, if a Midwestern man said that to me, I would be offended.  Southern men will make reference to a woman’s weight, size, and body in general, but it is not meant derogatory, he is just “telling it like it is.”  And believe me, if he is slapping that big ass in a restaurant as you walk by, don’t be offended because you know he wants to tap that big ole’ ass of yours as soon as you two get home.

The South in general firmly believes in the “Lady on the street, Freak in the bed” phenomenon.  This is the Bible belt and you can trip over churches down here.  That does not mean they don’t like to fuck.  They love it.  Southern men (I imagine, have not actually witnessed yet) love to get buck wild and then  shower up, comb the pussy juice out of their beards from Saturday night and walk into church Sunday morning and shake the preacher’s hand with the same hand that was, quite possibly literally, all up in you the night before.  But they can be possessive.  They know what a wild cat you can be in bed and they DO NOT want to share.  There are probably more bar room fights over a lady’s “honor” down here than in the Midwest.  I imagine this occurs because they value the pussy and (often) the lady it belongs to it is worth fighting for.

Yes, they will treat you like a lady, they will hold open doors for you, and they will fight for you, but do not expect to be treated like an equal.  And you better let go of having some kind of “agenda” on a date, because your Southern Man is just going to throw a wrench into those plans anyway.  Just let it go and let them lead the way, at least initially.  They secretly know that the woman is smarter and makes all the real important decisions anyway, but they like it that way.  Don’t ruin their façade, ladies.  It is all about manners and appearances.  They want to seem like the “head of the family” but they know who the real boss is, but that doesn’t mean you have got to rub it in their face either. 

And if all else fails: the near stalker-ish pursuit, the worship of your body, the wining and dining and picking up the check, his chivelous way he opens the door for you and defends your virtue, and the intentional, deliberate, mind blowing kissing does not work, they use their secret weapon that is natural as, well, talking.  Their accents will really win you over.  I know I love the way they call me “Baby” and “Darlin’” just makes me weak.  I can’t help it.  Just understand that when a Southern man calls you “Sugar” that you are going to melt and get as sweet and drippy as honey.  Just accept it and offer up a piece of that sweetness because he sure as hell earned it. 

That is all I have to report on my observations of the mating rituals of the Southern Men.  And I don’t even know their mating habits, only their making out habits thus far, but no one really cares about those findings.  I am sure Albert Kinsey would hardly consider my little anecdotal evidence as scientific, but it is kind of funny and cute. 

+++By the way, men from other regions, you guys are great kissers… really… just… can you try a little harder?

++++These observations were based mostly on data collected on Caucasian representatives of these regions.  Men of other ethnicities, sorry, I just have not dated enough of you to gather enough data to draw any conclusions.   But those that I have had the good fortune to enjoy kissing…. Yeah…. You might have had your own little seminar that you didn’t let the Midwestern cornhuskers in on either.

+++++Did I mention that this is mainly a joke for humorous purposes?  Relax.  You are all hot, okay?  *wink