A Tale of Two Wives

Dear Reader: This article is not meant to be a universal statement of "the difference between men and women," or anything like that. This is not a global proclamation regarding the problems in all marriages. I offer it simply as food for thought. It is up to you, the reader, to determine where, if anywhere, its applicability lies within the context of your marriage. That being said, I would like to challenge wives with this: IF you are married to Mike or Rob, then are you Doris, or are you Susan?

He Wants to Hold Her

When a man sees a woman he finds attractive, there is this internal impulse. Some kind of fundamental drive. Who knows where it comes from? But it transcends sexuality, for it comes up whether he's admiring his own wife, his daughter, his neice, or a friend's wife or daughter. It is a thing that arises out of the beautiful "femaleness," or perhaps the perfect femininity of the woman or girl. As a man, he sees this and admires it. He is momentarily captivated by it.

The man thinks to himself, "I want to hold her."

What is Love?

What is love?

The poets have never stopped contemplating it.  Song writers write, singers sing, actors act… they write about love, they sing about love, they portray love as best they can.  But mankind still cannot understand its depths.

How I Met my Friend, Garry

The stinging chill of the night air cut through my alpaca wind breaker like a Frenchman on a mo-ped in rush hour traffic as I reached for another fag. The distant, muted cacophony of the surf beyond the jetty, the pungent fragrance of the tailings of yesterday's catch, and the oddly diffuse brilliance of a full moon peering down through a meandering marine layer all conspired to set the mood—a doleful, introspective kind of mood.

indecision

What is it about indecisiveness that I hate so much?

It's not that it uses up time (though the older I get, the less patience I have). No, I think it's because of the complications it adds to life.  There are two basic types of indecision that drive me crazy, and they both center around stuff that just doesn't matter that much. The two scenarios can be exemplified as follows:

My Conversion

It was never a question, for myself, whether I would one day
     be what, and whom, I wanted to be.
The fact had always stood,
     with opportunities in abundance.
But there that day the questions seemed to proliferate.
What next to do that I hadn't already tried?
—or that wasn't so similar as to quench 
     any hope of satisfaction in my quest.
And, "Quest for exactly what?" I could no longer answer.
Had I ever known? Or was I now just tired of the empty humor.

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