Magic

Sorry I didn't write yesterday, but I was a very busy lady.

My first client of the day was an adorable 55 year old widow. She married her high school sweetheart and they seemed to have had an amazing life together. The kids, success, all of it seemed wonderful until her husband came down with cancer. His cancer was fast growing and he quickly went from a robust man to being completely debilitated. His most important mission, the reason he actually stayed alive as long as he did, was to make sure all his ducks were in a row for his beloved wife. That she would not only be taken care of, but that she actually knew how to take care of everything herself. As she told me, his passing was peaceful knowing that he had lifted his wife up enough to carry on without him.

It's now been two years and she has started to come in to see me regularly. She still works for the same doctor as she has for the last quarter of a century, but she has changed. She feels a yearning to be healthy and keep herself up. She not only takes care of her inside, but also her outside. By losing 40 pounds, exercising, and keeping up with the little things, like her nails, she guarantees some of the things that make her life fulfilled.

Most of the time, talking with her, is like giving a lesson to a 16 year old girl who has never dated. She is just getting out there, but is hesitant. Most of our conversations center around her asking me questions like, "Why did he do that?" and "What does that mean?". I think it's adorable, but having to translate men-speak makes me wonder why we even need to do that. Do men wonder and lament about the subtle nuances of what we are saying and how we are saying it? It's still a mystery to me and I question on whether it's even necessary.

The rest of the day is basically a blur of facial clients on the Living Social coupon and it wasn't until my neighbor, Stalker Sue, texted me to remind me of our "date" to go see "Magic Mike."

I was really hoping to get out of it. I mean, seeing male strippers is just not my thing. Men just look awkward stripping and I don't find it sexy or enjoyable. Simulating "banging the sh*#" out of some woman on stage is not my idea of a fun time. In fact, I think I would rather have my teeth drilled then see some guys dance around buck naked and trying to titillate horny females.

There was a line to get into the movie and all kinds of women were there including a smattering of reluctant males looking for bonus points for even coming.

I felt myself getting nauseated at some points that went beyond the "C" rating of plot and acting skills. I can't really put my finger on it, but somehow it made me really uncomfortable. I thought at first, is this what women are reduced down too? Looking like desperate she-devils?  Don't men know that the peen is funny looking and why are they putting it in our face all throughout this movie? I mean I don't mind Michael Fassbender's peen, but thongs and sex-simulated dancing is just not sexy to me.

This reminds me of that book, "50 Shades of Grey." Never mind that her writing is horrible, but the concept of actually being beat down is exciting to women sexually is weird for me. I actually dated a person once who was REALLY into that and I tried it a couple times. It wasn't until my friend Gina saw bruises all over my boobs and questioned me, that I finally realized that this isn't sexy. What happened to sensuality? The magic of breathing in another person's energy and making it a totally sensory experience? Holding and kissing every part of a person's body. Learning that every part of your partner's body smells differently, tastes differently, and relishing that. Have we been over-porned? Are we taking our cue's on how to do the most fundamental (and fun) human experience and letting the porn industry dictate to us on how to do "it?"

Honestly, I don't know how to answer my 55 year old widow on how to date or what men are thinking or even what is normal sexually or otherwise. I just think men may be just as perplexed as we are.