TRU DAT

Just because something is good, doesn’t mean it’s good enough for me.

The 105-year old virgin

Pop that pussy.

Britain’s oldest virgin who celebrates her 105th birthday this weekend says no sex is the secret to her long life.

Having known she would remain single from the age of twelve, Clara Meadmore abstained to concentrate on earning a living.

She has never had sex because she was “too busy” for intimate relationships which seemed like “a lot of hassle”.

The retired secretary said sex equalled marriage in the 1920s and 1930s and she did not buy into the idea.

“People have asked whether I am a homosexual and the answer is no. I have just never been interested in or fancied having sex,” Clara said.

“I imagine there is a lot of hassle involved and I have always been busy doing other things.

“I’ve never had a boyfriend – I’ve never been bothered about relationships. When I was a girl you only had sex with your husband and I never married.

“I’ve always had lots of platonic friendships with men but never felt the need to go further than that or marry.

“I made my mind up at the age of 12 never to marry and I’ve not gone back on that.”

But Clara was never a girl short of marriage proposals and despite “offers” she turned them all down.

“I grew up in an era where little girls were to be seen and not heard so I had to learn to stand up for myself and earn my own living,” she said.

“Some men don’t like that in a woman and before long I was too old to marry anyway.”

Instead of looking after a husband, Clara took up reading, gardening, walking, cooking and listening to Radio 4’s Woman’s Hour.

A hundred years of sex-less existence. Let that sink in for a moment before you .. ahem .. moan that you haven’t gotten any in a month. Other then preference, or should I say, nonpreference for sex, there doesn’t seem to be any medical repercussions of not gettin’ some good lovin’. So, you can’t argue with abstinence there. Though the argument of “not getting any, hence not wanting any” comes to mind.

Would you tap that?

Maybe it just wasn’t Clara’s thing, y’know? Maybe if you took her knitting needles away, she’d be clawing at the walls and making a reverse stocking stitch every chance she can get. Or an unhealthy obssession with ceramic cats. (I don’t know, the ceramic cats really just came to me in a dream and begged to get on my blog. I fear the wrath of Basement Cat. And Ceiling Cat sees everything I do, so my hands are tied. Besides, Rabeh Cat judges like no other bitchy kitty can. So I can’t ignore him.)

Clara got it right, people. A sexless existence simplifies everything else. The sooner men know that you’re not putting out EVER, the sooner you weed out the assholes, douchebags, and venereal diseases. I know that some good time in the sack is what the world could use a little right now but if men weren’t driven by their dicks (I’m looking at you Henry VIII played by Eric Bana (hawtt)) or women by the fire in their crotch (Sarah Silverman rubbing it in our faces that she’s fucking Matt Damon), the world wouldn’t have had to sever heads, get herpes, Lorena Bobbit, or see Jimmy Kimmel fucking Ben Affleck. Hey Clara, yo go girl!

The First Celebration

Lucy wadded through the layer of silly string, confetti, and balloons on the floor just to get to the couch that was now occupied by a mountain of pink wrapping paper. She gave a little sigh knowing the cleanup rested on her shoulders. Just as she was about to carefully relocate the stack of pink wrapping paper hastily torn to shreds, John overtook her and just pushed the entire mess onto the floor. He fell back into the now relatively empty couch (except for a few hats and noise makers lodged in between pillows) and patted the seat beside him. Ordinarily, Lucy would be upset that he’d just created a bigger mess than when the girls were here and bouncing around like pin balls at the mere mention of a bubble show. But today, she just let it go and promptly fell into his waiting arms.

The moment her body fell against John’s, they both breathed a sigh of relief. The day was finally over. All the preparation and hours of decorating ended with a smashing success. Sandra finally got the pink princess butterfly fairy theme (or some combination of those words) she had wanted for her eighth birthday. Never mind that the house looked like a Pepto-Bismol threw up in it and that there was still the dirty business of cleaning up all that glitter from everywhere. When Sandra was tucked into bed, she had a huge smile on her face and could not stop talking about the entire day. They had promised she could wake up the day after and tell them everything that they had missed.

John stroked Lucy’s hair as she gently ran her fingers up and down his arm. She forgot that she had not eaten throughout the entire party. There were just too many things to take care of. John reached at the side table and produced for her a good slice of the birthday cake that took him weeks to track down and make specifications for. The past six months had taken a toll on the entire family and John thought that Sandra’s birthday should at least make up for all the changes that had happened. Thus, the cake was his personal mission, riddled not only with fairies and flowers but the hopes and dreams he had for the entire family.

Lucy was now getting a good sized bite and savoring the specialty cake. She was glad that John had made arrangements for the food. She never would have done it all had he been there to oversee part of the party. And she was even more appreciative when he had offered and she had not had to push him into it. Lucy looked up at John who was now mocking the way she had attacked that cake. She poked him at his side until he promised to cease the teasing … for now. He flinched as she lunged at him again thinking he was going to get another tickling session, only for her to retreat seconds later, brandishing the television remote that was hidden behind him. They laughed at the own silliness somewhat reminiscent of the festivities that had occurred mere hours ago in that very room. She handed him the remote and he promptly flicked the television open. After flipping through a couple of channels, John settled on one that featured a travel documentary of the Caribbean islands or something.

Minutes later, Lucy stood up and made her way to the kitchen where more mess, party balloons, and party favors were to be found. She opened the cupboard and produced two wine glasses and filled them with the bottle left out on the counter. She padded back into the living room and handed John a glass. He was stretched out on one side of the couch and she promptly took the other. The wine warmed her up a bit. Autumn was really making its presence known and the red was just what she needed.

John’s legs were longer than hers and took up some of her leg space. She started fighting him for it, subtlety at first, but ended up in an all out footsie war. They were both giggling and mercilessly tickling each other while trying not to spill their glasses onto the ecru carpeting. Before she could warn him, John tipped his glass a little too far and suddenly there was a noticeable red splotch on the pristine carpet. They looked at each other wide-eyed. They had to move NOW if they were hoping to get that stain out of the fabric. It was going to set harder every minute they wasted just staring at that red blotch.

They turned to the stain and then to each other, back to the stain and to each other again. Lucy froze. She had bugged John about getting this particular carpet for months on end and promised it was a good buy and it would be oh so perfect with the couch that she picked out for the living room. He finally relented and she got his way. John froze. He knew that Lucy was a stickler for cleanliness and vacuumed like mad daily including everything under, over, and around a piece of furniture, a habit he still had to get used to during the weekends. As the red wine sank deeper and deeper into the carpet, the color got darker and more sinister.

They searched each other’s faces, eased back, and then broke out into laughter. No one knew why he or she was laughing. But even with nothing said and just wheezing and coughing between them, they knew that the previous months were worth it. All the planning and changes were nothing compared to what they were giving it up for. John stood up, still laughing, and walked to the kitchen to get a washcloth and some soda. And while Lucy was smiling to herself, she cleared the area where the spill had been lest anything else make it set deeper into the threads. They had worked on it until for a while. They did everything they could until they couldn’t do anything else but go to bed and call the carpet cleaners in the morning.

(Sorry for any grammar, spelling mistakes. I just typed and never looked back.)

Wanting it All

“You can’t get something for nothing, you know?” – Ursula, The Seawitch

Even as children, we’ve been taught never to take candy from strangers. The promise of sweets do not come without a visit into an unmarked van. As teenagers, we’ve learned that a monetary allowance also comes with a stern warning and/or punishment (if we haven’t already spent it on useless things such as tiny porcelain figurines of cats). As adults, however, the stakes become higher and the gratifications aren’t as instant. Wanting something so bad that you can taste it does not only take your “want” for it. It eats up your time, energy, relationships, your entire being.

Wanting a successful, excitement-ridden, power-wielding career doesn’t just come by keeping your head down and doing the job. Politics come into play. And if you’re not the type that plays well with others, then your ascent on the ladder of success is filled with more rungs than the rest who are ready to brown-nose. Climbing a step could mean that you leave a part of yourself behind. All the compromises and the deals do not just mean that you give your word. It also means that you’re giving a part of yourself. There is a saying that goes, “Find yourself a job that you love and you’ll never work a single day in your life.” That does not hold true nor is it applicable for every job situation. It might start out that way, but a job still is a job and you give a job (that you love) all the time that you have. You believe that something this important to you merits everything you’ve got. And so, you give it all your energy. And eventually, you give up the quality of your relationships. In some way, this weeds out the acquaintances and the fair-weather friends and gives you more time to focus on the ones who have “staying power”. Even then, that should be heluva bond to be able to take a hit. A million handshakes, documents, over times, and meetings for a secure future you’ve never seen.

Wanting a love/social life is addled with difficulties and hurdling over insecurity barriers. Assimilating new people into our lives demand that we put ourselves out there for people to see, and consequently, judge. The time and energy spent in first impressions, conversation skills, and proper decorum can be overwhelming and tedious. And we’re not even talking about the people who we meet and NOT want to be around. Coupledom, even the best ones, have had work done. It all starts out well and good – the butterflies in the stomach, that sense of anticipation at the next encounter, those “me too” moments that just make you think “This is it! Life will never be better, never be sweeter than this” – but the honeymoon may be over sooner than you expect. Then begin the arguments and out come the issues. Yes, a lot of people have worked through their differences, but it is not to say that they have not spent countless hours “working it out”, exhausting every possible word in any or all of the languages in the world to bring your point across precisely. But if you want/love the person bad enough, you suffer through all of that because you believe, you have faith, and you feel that s/he is an integral part of your being. A million words to explain why this and that for three words that you want to hear so badly.

Wanting a family and all the accoutrements that come with it requires a partial losing or redefining of self. The “i” in family is unnecessary but recognized. From the conception of a child, no longer shall you belong to you alone. You are to share and adjust and adapt. Your time, your food, your body and its functions shall no longer be dictated by you. You need to be stronger than you ever have been in your whole life. Mentally, you cannot afford to have doubts because, at this point, it’s not just about you. Physically, it will be like a boot camp where your drill sergeant is yea feet high and can’t even wipe its own bottom. Emotionally, you will be a landmine. Sitting in a conference room with the most powerful people will be incomparable to when you have to deal with a 2-year old throwing a huge hissy fit in the middle of a supermarket. The excitement of a lovers’ tryst will be nothing compared to your child’s first steps or when s/he finally calls you Mama/Dada. These are just the “highlights” that parents have and talk about. Nobody tells you the real day-to-day grunt work that goes into raising a family. Remembering to fill the car’s wiper fluid or coming back from a vacation will no longer just be those things. They will be heavily-laden with history. You make room in your life for someone who you think is important enough to disregard anyone else that comes after him/her.

We juggle everything as best we can. Very few have achieved such juggling feats in their lifetime. We drop something in lieu of something we think is bigger, better, more important. Wanting it all (a career and a life) then is a tall order. To have a thriving career, be an outstanding mother, a loving and caring wife/lover/significant other and remembering yourself requires a trade off. What will it be? Less time at the office to spend with your child? Less time with your child to keep pace with the corporate world? Less time with your other half for more office time? For your child? Less time for yourself for everything else? Maybe less effort with everything as not to wear yourself out? But you know, at the back of your mind, your ego won’t take you being mediocre in ANY THING. The only way I see how the juggling act can work is when you’ve 1) seen the world, done it all, become successful in your work, then 2) keep at your fabulous job and meet someone along the way, then 3) keep dating this someone (while keeping that fab job) and eventually getting married to that someone, then 4) live a married life (with job security, of course), and the 5) eventually have a baby and be a mother/father and a wife/husband (and there’s your job somewhere ). Each step requires the completion of the one before it. Each step represents maturity and growth. Each step mentally, emotionally, psychologically prepares you for the one after it. Each step is crucial…necessary…to lead a life without regrets (with fingers crossed). But the plans that we make are not the plans that happen. After the ideal 1-5 sequence is shot, you’re pretty much in the dark. And not everyone who’s done the ideal 1-5 sequence turn out to be the most successful people/amazing parents/great partners either. There is no “Life for Dummies” that we can read in our down time. Can you have it all without giving up something in return? If you say “yes”, let those of us (non-conformists to the 1-5 sequence) blindly groping in the dark know. Since you’re such the expert, I’m sure you can tell us what to do. I mean, you’re not the only one to want it all.