WDKY did a post on this the other day and all the comments discussing the subject got me thinking. In fact, it got me thinking so much that I ended up spending most of this afternoon in the pub forcing my friends to talk about it.
If you're a regular to my blog, you'll know that what I want from a guy is quite simple. I want to have a laugh and I want great sex, not necessarily in that order. I'm not the type to leaf through wedding magazines or get a dreamy look in my eye when a baby throws up all over my brand new Karen Millen silk dress (yes, this really happened; I'm still tempted to send the parents the dry cleaning bill). I'm not a commitment kind of girl. Variety is the spice of life, you know?
Anyway, Helen and I are in the pub as we usually are on a Sunday, flicking through the papers and talking shit. Today we had Karen, this girl who's at Uni with Helen, and an old mate of mine, Evie, with us. So I bring the subject up and the girls are all like, oh God, what do women want in a guy? Well, isn't that just the million dollar question?
Helen goes, babe, the first thing is that you have to differentiate between is guys you just want to fuck and guys you really like. She says, I'm happy kissing a whole load of frogs until I want to get more serious, maybe in like five years or something, then I'll start thinking about all that steady commitment shit. And I wouldn't want to end up with most of the guys I've been fucking since way back when.
Karen is like, yeah, totally. The guy you end up with, you have to really like, you know? 'Cos this is the person who, in an ideal world, you'd be buying denture-grip for thirty years down the line. It's got to go beyond the sex thing.
We all stare at Evie, who's practically the only grown-up we hang out with on a regular basis (all the others have disowned us), and has been with the same guy forever. We're like, so Evie, what's the real deal? How come you can still stand the sight of Dave when you've been fucking him for most of your life?
Evie goes, sometimes I can't stand the sight of him. Which is when I seek out the company of you lot. We're like, thanks bitch; but seriously, how come you're still with Dave? What's so great about him over all the other millions of men in the world?
Evie goes, I don't know. I just love the guy. It's that complicated and it's that simple. Oh yeah, and he's got a huge cock. Which is kind of up there on my essentials list.
So we keep on talking, and we're all doing our ideal man lists (and in my case, my ideal man means a different thing to theirs, like I said, I'm no great believer in forever), and the only thing that we can agree on is that we have to have a guy who's great in the sack.
So the message to you guys out there trying to figure this shit out? All the lame stuff you focus on to try and pull women, you know, the car, the clothes, the gym-fit physique, the jokes, the job - it's nothing more than window-dressing. You just concentrate on honing your sexual technique and it'll turn out fine.
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12 comments:
Duh! Tell me something I don't know ;-)
hey wdky, that was quick, I only just posted!
I was checking my favourite blogs. You're a big favourite of mine.
aw bless you
it's good to hear. :-)Pass me round!
ah, t'is I who should ask forgiveness. stroppy-sloshed-soppy-poop that I was on Friday night.
Day in bed today with the sickles.
Just read your post and... hm.
I wonder if sex just needs to be great enough, for long enough, so that, by the time you're zimmer-framed and false-toothed and unable to get into bed without a caboose strap, well, by then you've already got a few other things to enjoy with each other.
laughter rates pretty high. Phoebe and I seem to laugh pretty constantly at each other's jokes, which is, like, such a relief because nobody else does. It's nice finding someone who actually thinks your really funny and is not a complete psychopath or social miscreant.
And cleanliness - it is an eternally overlooked factor but I do think having the same level of house-proudness is pretty important.
Neither Phoebe nor I seem to care for a house clean enough to conduct major surgery in the bathroom, but then we do have a level of sloppiness that is perfectly matched to the amount of time we have in a day to clean. We never get shitty with each other because the house is this way or that way, just once a week we clean up together. We are what you might call clean-conscience slobs.
romantic aren't I?
compatible msense of cleanliness is next to marital joy?
LOL
I think that is as good as anything to base a marriage on. But you know my views on that insitution. Big credit to anyone who manages it.
Or you could get a cleaner and spend the extra time in bed.
Hi--Thanks for stopping by the blog :-)
Hope it's OK if I link to you.
you've gone all colourful on us.
kind of like a female Che Guveura look that one (I'm not married to the guy so don't ball me out if I spelt his name wrong):
you should start a competition: see who can make the best caption to go with your photo because there is definitely some intent and thought or other snapping across the synaptic gaps in that snapshot.
NYM - link away. I'm delighted! Good to see you here.
Lighterate - yep, I decided the old pic had to go, so Helen got bullied into taking pics this morning. I was quite pleased with this one because a) it was taken after a weekend of excess and b) I'm not wearing any make-up, which just shows the restorative effects of lots of valium-riddled sleep and a pint of water before bed.
I like the comp idea. Please feel free to be the first to submit! Not sure about prizes though, hmm, will have to think about that one.
I'd be fucking worried if you were married to Che.
I'm not the kind to put words into other people's mouths.
or, for that matter, thoughts into their heads.
or even captions to their pictures.
Maybe this epiphany:
"--------?--------!---------"
(as anyone who has seen 'Revolver' might tell you.)
Of course Laughing during sex could be a bit of a disaster :o)
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