She Rant #7: Waaaaay Too Much Information!!!

I was recently reminded of one of my biggest She-Peeves. Women telling other women, in vivid detail, about their man's private parts. Seriously???

I cannot tell you how many of my friends - not to mention, women I hardly know - have dropped the TMI bomb on me before I have time to plug my ears, scream, "La la la la la la la!" and curl up in a ball under my desk. Really? You really think that I need, or want, to know that your husband has a really low hanging scrotum, one ball, small penis, penis discolored a certain way from circumcision, crooked penis, purple polka-dot penis, or anything at all about his penis???

I do not, repeat - DO NOT, want to know anything about the junk belonging to your husband or boyfriend. I think this is such an incredible violation of your relationship. And I don't want to hang around him knowing that his balls touch his knees or that he curves to the left. Not that it makes me uncomfortable, it's just that he's not my guy - it's none of my business.

The only sort-of, kind-of, maybe exception is if your guy is large. Fine. He has a big dick. Bravo. I have no problem with the brief advertising of your circus pony and most guys I know that have Mr. Ed living in their pants actually prefer that information be passed around. It's like people knowing he owns a Lamborghini - not really something he's looking to hide. (Which is weird because, honestly, for us women... Never mind. Penis size. Maybe a post for another day. Or not.) But that's it! That's all the information I need. He's big. End of story. Keep shape, texture, color, and all other identifying information to yourself. I am begging you.

Women are really weird about this - somehow not understanding how boundary impaired and beyond inappropriate it is. Ladies, men get pissed about it for a reason. And, no, they don't do the same thing. Guys DO NOT sit around talking about the fact that your right boob is bigger than your left, the size of your clitoris, how your V-Jay-Jay looks, or the color and length of your vaginal stretch marks. Could you imagine how you'd feel if they did??? Horrified, right? IT'S THE SAME FREAKING THING!!!

I have actually warned my son about this - just so, when he is older he can lay down ground rules with girlfriends and wife. And you better believe that my daughter will be schooled in the ways of relationship boundaries, privacy and loyalty.

Can't believe it took me so long to bitch about this. Seriously, Ladies, I don't want to hear it and he doesn't want me, or anyone else, to know it. If you still insist on divulging then I give him full permission to tell his friend about your crooked nipple and low hanging labia.

It's only fair.

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She Rant #2: What Is Wrong With This Picture?
She Rant #3: From Where I Stand
She Rant #4: The Toilet Seat
She Rant #5: Having Our Cake
She Rant #6: Cougariculous

She Rant #6: Cougariculous

S'been a while since I have She Ranted...

Okay ladies, I know as well as any forty something woman the joys of dating younger men. A man in his prime and a woman in hers is just kind of a no brainer. They don't require a nap or a pill or batteries or anything. But this is getting a bit out of control. There are sitcoms, reality shows, Saturday Night Live sketches. Somewhere along the line we've become a parody of ourselves.

I like The Show. Sometimes. Usually, however, I end up sighing and thinking: Really? This is where we are now? 40, half naked, drunk, hooking up and verbally raping young men?

I am all for freedom and adventure and living an unbounded, joyful life. Age makes no difference to me in sex, dating and relationships. I mean, who of us wouldn't want to be Demi Moore? But last I checked, she wasn't out flashing her boobs, falling over in clubs and dating entire college sports teams.

I love Sex and the City. I own the entire series and it pretty much single handedly gets me through these God awful Utah winters. And, yes, every time the game "Which one are you?" comes up it is quickly determined that I am more Samantha than any of the others. I went to Sex and the City 2 last weekend with some friends. We had cocktails. We all caught our breath and agreed, during a preview of his latest film, that Zac Efron has somehow crossed over to the land of beautiful sexy men. All good fun. But the movie itself depressed the hell out of me. Or, rather, Samantha depressed the hell out of me. I cringed at what she wore, how she looked, what she said, how she behaved.

Is there a point at which we become too old to "pull it off?" I think so. We can still play and have fun and be wild and look amazing and be sexy and date whoever the hell we want but can we please do it with class and a little dignity? Otherwise "You go girl!" just becomes "Oh honey, stop that right now."

I leave you with a poem.

A Cougar Blessing

May the road rise up to support you in your heels.
May the fat stay off your back.
May the sun shine warm upon your face
That is slathered in SPF 150,
And rains fall soft upon your
Hormonally challenged nether regions.
And until we meet again,
May you wear clothes that fit you,
May you not act your age but act with dignity,
May you not get lip injections,
May you stop drinking before you fall down,
And may the younger man of your dreams
Hold you skillfully in the palm of His hand.

Amen.

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RELATED POSTS
She Rant #1: Sister Suffragettes
She Rant #2: What Is Wrong With This Picture?
She Rant #3: From Where I Stand
She Rant #4: The Toilet Seat
She Rant #5: Having Our Cake