Whoa, what a jerk. Maybe if you got off your ass, you could sweat out some of this anger.
Archive for the ‘Peeves’ Category
Wouldn’t you know it, women find it more difficult than men to have orgasms during casual sex?
Well, yes, and I wouldn’t need a bunch of sex researchers to survey hundreds of women to figure it out. It stands to reason, right? Women tend to have a harder time having orgasms, period. Add in a stranger, who is both unfamiliar with your body and with whom you have less of an emotional connection — I mean, duh.
But perhaps what I find more baffling is the assumption that orgasms are the be-all, end-all of a sexual encounter. Why else would women bother to hook up, that’s the default. I’m certainly no fan of this guy whose behaviour is detailed in a Times column: “After his own orgasm that night, she said, he showed no interest in her satisfaction…. He fell asleep immediately, leaving her staring at the ceiling.” On the other hand, though, was all he had to offer clitoral stimulation? (He seems like a jerk, so maybe.)
Women have sex, casual and otherwise, for a host of reasons. Orgasms, sure, but also physical and emotional closeness. Pleasure in a multitude of ways. Because we can.
Yes, hookups shouldn’t be one-sided. But nor should our definitions of intimacy.
I’ll admit, I work in a profession that, entertainment-wise, doesn’t have much of an image problem. From Murphy Brown to Broadcast News to His Girl Friday, there are plenty of dashing — or the female equivalent — women reporters in movies and television for girls to look up to.
By contrast, women in engineering and computer science complain that there are few high-profile heroines in their fields in popular culture to capture the imagination of a new generation. This is undoubtedly true. It’s also the case that it’s pretty hard to dramatise writing programming code. STEM has an image problem.
At the same time, though, I kind of feel like it does a disservice to women to suggest that they only pursue professions that seem sexy on the big screen. To the best of my knowledge, there aren’t a ton of male engineers on the big screen saving the world one mathematical equation at a time, either, yet plenty of guys decide they want to go into those fields. Are we to believe women are more swayed by Hollywood lights?
Yes, we need to send the message that more women belong in engineering and computer science. But surely there’s another way than to cast Bridget Jones, Structural Engineer.
Running a race in America, one of the first things you notice is the women. Namely, that there are a lot of us.
More and more women are running distance events like ten-milers and half-marathons — about 60 percent of half-marathon finishers were female last year.
So, imagine my surprise a week ago when I showed up at the starting line of the annual Paris-to-Versailles 16K and found myself surrounded by…men. Easily 60 percent of the runners were male, if not a larger share.
I’d never really given much thought about running with women versus men, but having completed the French race, I’d like to say, more women, please! It was 10 miles with a bunch of jerks, not jocks. The course was hilly, and the day was rainy. At one point, I found myself heading down a narrow path. The ground was slick with sodden leaves and the descent steep. I naturally slowed. All of a sudden, a mass of guys sprinted along the edge of the path on both sides, pushing and jostling. The fact that more of them didn’t end up careening out-of-control and falling was amazing.
I recognised many of the jerseys as belonging to guys I’d passed on the ascent. Sure enough, the moment the route leveled out again, I lapped most of them as they heaved along.
And don’t get me started on all the in flagrante mid-race urination.
I often think gender differences are immaterial, but in this case, I have to believe that if more women had run, conduct would have been more sporting.
Look, I believe, based on utterly unscientific study, that the way to a man’s heart is through his stomache. And I absolutely love to cook for those that I care for. I totally buy food as an expression of caring.
But whatever — I cannot imagine accepting these terms: Make me 300 super-duper sandwiches, and I’ll give you an engagement ring in return. Who offers these terms, and who accepts them? And who the fuck cops to it in public?
Seriously, romance is DEAD.
One of the things I have to do before I can write is organise.
I have to put all my notes into neat, generally thematic, piles, optimally labeling which each pile is. Even though 90 percent of the time I recall where a piece of information is located or who said what fact, I cannot progress until I have made some order of clutter. Believe me, I have tried.
As someone who prefers not to traffic in cliches — maybe it’s a sign of my orderly mind — I suppose I’m glad to be neat.