Romance for Real Women

I saw this fabulous video about priests in a lingerie department. It reminded me of my partner’s reaction to lingerie before I trained him. Enjoy.

Real women who love romance also love vampires. Edgy, angst ridden and oh, so sexy, our favorite vampires have issues, usually self-hate, unrequited love and strong and frustrated sex drives. Today’s vampires battle the forces of evil, both human and undead, all the while meditating on the cursed twist of fate that made them what they are.
What’s not to love?
So we were delighted when CBS began airing Moonlight last fall starring gorgeous young actor Alex O’Loughlin as angst ridden vampire and detective Mick St. John. Not only did the writers get it right with the character, the show was a happy break from reality programming and Dick Wolfe.
By vampire standards, Mick is young, only ninety odd years. Turned by his wife on their wedding night, he hates being a member of the undead. But no moping around for Mick. He keeps busy solving grisly murders, often perpetrated by his own kind, that is to say, rogue vampires. (There are other twists, but you’ll have to watch yourself.)
Moonlight developed a following. But, I suppose because the show is literate and plot and character driven, CBS hasn’t decided to renew it. (NBC, after all, canceled Studio 60, a fabulous show, for similar reasons.)
Now, Moonlight fans are…well, out for blood.
Literally.
Websites www.moonlightfans.com, www.youuchoose.net and www.moonlightfan.blogspot.com are asking Moonlight fans to donate a pint of blood to the Red Cross in support of the program and Internet news reports claim some 4,000 fans have already pledged. Alex O’Loughlin is apparently “so moved” by the effort that he will become a spokesman for the Red Cross.
This is a crusade I can get behind. Two worthy causes.
Word is that the drive is making a difference. Four new episodes have appeared since late April. And www.HollywoodReporter.com and www.eonline.com claim the network will renew the show.
There are some snarky news accounts which allege the network had already decided to renew the program before the drive got underway.
Who cares?
Why, dare I say, puncture their balloon?

            In most markets, the quality of local media range from mediocre to poor. Real women know there are some exceptions, but not many.

            This is not such an exception.

            Yesterday I posted a report from University of California at Davis about men confusing a comment such as “it’s getting late” with “let’s skip the preliminaries and get it on.”

            This is egregious stuff. After finally dragging rape out of the shadows; after all the serious work that’s been done in the area of spousal and child abuse; after all the sensitivity courses in the workplace and in school, it appears that a large number of men still confuse what they want to hear with what’s actually said.

            This isn’t funny.

            But it apparently did tickle the funny bone of a Davis CBS13 reporter Mike Dello Stritto who went to the Davis campus and chatted up some of the students about the report.

            Led by an infallible news sense, Stritto asked the kids some of the same questions the professor posed on his study.

Yuk. Yuk. Giggle. Giggle. 

How did he think those kids would react when asked about their sex lives with a camera pointed in their noses?

Lost was any sense of the serious implications of the study.  Although as noted the professor did not study rape, this is moving very close to the line.  And it ain’t funny.

Check out this meathead and his compadres on the news desk.  And it may interest you to know that later in his video blog Stritto opined “this was kind of funny and a fun story to do.”

What a jerk.

The video is at http://cbs13.com/local/men.hear.yes.2.706568.html

A new study out of University of California at Davis ought to have real women calling their collage age daughters right this minute.

Scratch that.

Call your daughters however old they are. Call them at work. Get them in the kitchen after school for a chat. Do it now. And, while you’re at it, call your friends, too.

The study, by communication professor Michael Motley, found that men frequently, no, make that nearly always, misinterpret “indirect” messages from women resisting the “escalation of sexual intimacy.”

According to Motley, when a woman says, “It’s getting late,” the male hears, “Let’s get it on more quickly.” When she says, “Let’s be friends,” the male hears, “I’m not committed, but let’s get it on.”

UC Davis reports that fully eighty five percent of college women have had at least one “unpleasant” experience where physical intimacy escalated without her consent.

The study did not look at rape. But if you ask me, this kind of stuff is getting pretty close to it.

It’s hair raising.

When you’re talking with your daughters, tell them to forget being “nice.” Tell them to forget worrying about his feelings.

If the guy is pawing them beyond what they like, they have to be unambiguous.

“Knock it off.”

“Quit that.”

“Get your hands off me.”

“I’m going home.”

You undoubtedly can think of other, similar unambiguous messages.

Make your daughter repeat them after you.

I’m going to.

Right now.

Real women are always informed on salient issues, so on the off chance you’ve missed the controversy regarding the Dove “campaign for real beauty” I thought I’d, dare I say, weigh in on it.

Dove is a brand belonging to the Unilever Company, a multi-national consumer products company. Unilever manufactures products ranging from tea to mayonnaise, including deodorants, ice cream, diet and skin care products, soup, detergents, etc., etc. You have Unilever brands on your shelves, in your refrigerator and in your bath and laundry rooms.

In 2004, in concert with its advertising firm Ogilvy and Mather, Dove launched its real beauty campaign aimed at “inspiring women to enjoy their own beauty and individuality.” Two overall strategies underpin the campaign. First, the use of “real women” in its advertising and the source of the controversy and second, the Dove Self Esteem Fund aimed at teens and young girls.

The controversy developed after a celebrity photo re-toucher, Pascal Dangin, asserted in The New Yorker this month that he’d airbrushed the pictures of the “real beauties” used in the advertising.

This has struck a nerve, apparently a deep one, and hundreds, if not thousands, of articles have been written about the possibility that Dangin airbrushed the tushes, thighs and boobs of the women in the ads who are pictured grinning broadly in identical sparkling white bras and panties.

My own callow reaction is “Who cares?” I know I’d want my tush airbrushed if I was going to appear on a billboard in my underwear.

Far more troubling is the Dove Self Esteem Fund aimed at reaching “the lives of five million young people by the end of 2010 with at least one hour of participation in our self-esteem programs.”

The notion that parents would actually encourage their children to spend an hour participating in a program developed by the beauty industry, the same industry by the way that Dove is castigating in its campaign, is not only ridiculous, it’s a little scary. (And do any of these people concerned with the airbrushing issue recognize the hypocrisy of this campaign?)

But the company claims results. Dove says it’s reached over three million kids with its self-esteem programs, a fact much more alarming than any airbrushing Dangin may or may not have done.

Do we really want the giants of global industry developing self-esteem programs for our children? Do we want them developing any programs at all for our kids?

Nope. Not me. Not ever.

If I was the type to squeal, I would.

Yesterday I posted an opinion, mind you, just an opinion that my partner might turn up for Mother’s Day dinner with something gift wrapped.

He did.

Yes, indeedy.

Thoughtful man.

Not that he didn’t make me work for it.

He came over at dinner time, as arranged, carrying a large gift wrapped box that I couldn’t help noticing. However, he deposited it on a chair in the living room and then didn’t mention it.

I could hardly ask, could I?

So during the meal, prepared by yours truly, consisting of steak, roasted sweet potatoes, and Caesar’s salad accompanied by a good Merlot and followed by chocolate mousse, I didn’t say a word, although I admit I sneaked a few glances at the package when I had occasion to pass it.

Finally, after dinner when despite the wine, I began to grind my teeth, he leaned back in his chair and announced he’d brought me a little something for Mother’s Day.

“Oh,” I said with complete innocence as if I hadn’t noticed anything sitting on my living room chair begging to be opened.

Knowing me as he does, he just laughed and suggested I get it.

Well, ladies, he’d made an on line visit to one of my favorite lingerie stores and cleaned out the e-shelves. For tucked into the package was a gorgeous white sheer peignoir, a black gown and a red lace baby doll. He also included several pairs of fishnet stockings, a staple of my wardrobe.

I was nearly speechless. Gorgeous sexy lingerie is one of my greatest weaknesses and we can get into the whys of that in another post.

Well, naturally we took the rest of the Merlot into the bedroom where I treated him to a fashion show guaranteed to start his week off right.

I’ll spare you the details, but if you’d like to see what he bought me, go to www.inhisdreams.com It’s one of the oldest sellers of high quality sexy lingerie on the internet. Believe me, I know. I’ve been a customer for years.

Mother’s Day is one of the sweetest holidays of the year. And not just because my partner has learned I adore good chocolate.

It’s the one holiday when the rest of the family makes its own rituals.

If you’re like me, and you probably are, women, mothers, are responsible for the rituals that mark the years for their children.

Thanksgivings may be at home or friends or family. You may decorate for the holiday or just concentrate on the food. But Mom’s the person who decides the where and with whom. Ditto for Christmas and birthdays. And, to Mom falls most of the work. (My Christmas tree has gotten to be such a chore, that two Christmases ago I obtained an arty looking branch from one of the dormant trees in the lawn and decorated it with dried fruit. When I presented it to the children as a different kind of Christmas tree, you can believe they were having none of it. Last year we were back to the three days to put up and two days to take down version.)

This is not a whine, just a fact. We do the work that makes the holidays special.

But not on Mother Day.

This is the day children, husbands and partners are free to conspire to show us how much they care.

In my case, I thoughtfully packed the refrigerator with eggs, milk, bacon and thick sliced bread…just in case breakfast was in the offing.

It was. And, it didn’t take me more than forty minutes or so to clean up, but breakfast in bed was worth every burnt pan.

I am far too frugal to allow my partner to treat us to big dinners. And I’m far too good a cook to pine for eating out when I can make an exceptional meal at home. We will be having one of those tonight.

However, I’m have not been above training my significant other in those things that I do find delightful, jewelry, books and lingerie among them and I suspect I’ll be in receipt of something along those lines tonight. I’m looking forward to it.

I started this off with the assertion that Mother’s Day is the one day mom steps aside to let the family decide the ritual.

I might have been mistaken.

Real women love weddings. Even the most cynical among us forget our own disappointments and empathsize, however briefly, with hope, joy and love symbolized by the wedding ceremony. And, I would suggest men feel exactly the same way, even if they don’t bring a handkerchief, just in case.

Weddings make us feel good.

So, I think it’s an appropriate question to ask why President Bush and his family are refusing to let any of us share in the pleasure of his daughter’s wedding.

Yes, I know, reportedly Jena doesn’t like the press. And, after all, it’s her day. She’s going to do it her way.

Nuts to that.

Whatever your political persuasion and I’m not going to tell you mine, the president asked the country to share in the grief and sorrow of a difficult and protracted war. Households are feeling the pinch of high food prices occasioned at least in part by ethanol mandates he signed off on. High gas prices and the mortgage crisis, while not really his fault, are further squeezing all of us. And, the country is suffering through a long and unpleasant political season.

So why on earth is the Bush family refusing to share even the most banal detail about the wedding? They’re having fun. Why can’t we share in just a little of it? I know it’d take my mind off the cost of a dozen eggs.

You’d think someone in the White House could figure this out.

Again, whatever your political persuasion, you’d probably admit that the Bush’s are a close and loving family. In the few comments she’s made about Jena’s wedding, Laura seems genuinely delighted. So does the President.

So why aren’t we permitted even a moment’s inclusion in the family’s happiness?

I can understand why Jena didn’t want a White House wedding. Really. The pomp and circumstance would be off putting to someone who hasn’t sought and isn’t comfortable in that kind of fishbowl.

But who would it have hurt if the White House had released, say, the menu for tonight’s dinner party? Maybe a picture of the wedding cake? Is that asking too much?

The White House had no problem embedding dozens of reporters with the troops in order to cover Operation Shock and Awe.

So why can they embed just one reporter, a friendly, to dribble out details during Operation Happiness?

It’s like they’re thumbing their noses at us.

I would go so far as to say I understand that with the President’s approval ratings in the twenties, lower than any president’s since polling began, a certain bunker mentality might prevail over at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue.

Although it’s too late now, I’d tell them to get over it. To bring themselves to raise the curtain just a few inches on their happiness. To include the country in an event we can all enjoy and support.

But, the wedding is tonight and we’re not invited.

Stupid.

Real women should take note of a study that could actually give them useful clues into the psyches of their partners. Clues, I might add, that apparently didn’t even occur to the researchers themselves.

The study on postpartum depression in men was conducted by researchers at the Eastern Virginia Medical School in Norfolk, VA. It was published in the August, 2007 issue of the journal Pediatrics although interestingly, the general media have just reported on it today, May 6, 2008, which really goes to show you how the Democrat primaries have saturated the news.

Nevertheless, apart from the cognitive dissonance real women might feel upon hearing that men suffer from postpartum depression, the study does yield some interesting findings. But only if you know how to look.

The researchers studied more than 5,000 two-parent families. Got that, ladies? Two parent families.

It found that one in ten of these new dads suffered from postpartum depression.

The reasons?

Anxiety over supporting a family.

Anxiety over relationships with their wives.

Worry over the cost of raising a child to twenty-one.

Have you got that, everyone?

These are the good guys.

In another study, the University of Chicago reports that 31% or 22.5 million of the nation’s children don’t live with either parent. Add to that the 18% or 11.9 million children who live with only one parent, usually the mother.

You can betcha those guys don’t suffer from postpartum depression.

One question the folks at Eastern Virginia don’t seem to have asked is when these new dads last had a good night’s sleep.

Don’t get me wrong. I am not belittling depression. But my advice to real women whose husbands are adjusting to the new kid by worrying about how to support their family is to uncork the champagne, pull on some sexy lingerie and dim the lights. After the fun, let him sleep all night.

He’s a keeper.

And now real women have another relationship guru to contend with, a miserable little toad called Marc Rudov who recently surfaced on national television, presenting himself as an authority on romance, relationships and women.

Mr. Rudov’s appearance was apparently prompted by the debut of his radio show, “The Mark Rudov Show” which in a perfect world should sink without a ripple.

Mr. Rudov contends that most women are “little girls occupying women’s bodies.” He further contends that men are depressed because “they’ve allowed women to take over the world.”

Huh?

Real women know we rule…behind the scenes. We don’t flaunt our authority. We don’t want men depressed. We love men. We want them happy. Really. We go to great lengths to make them happy. And, we know they’re happiest when they follow our direction.

If you must, go to www.marcrudovradio.com But, in my opinion, this is a toad not worth kissing.