TMI

Before I was liberated by menopause, I estimate that I had sex approximately 1,500 times. I was fortunate to come of age in the midst of the sexual revolution. I am retired, but I do have some advice for men.

1.            Yes, you should love your penis, but your love life will be less rocky if you don’t act like it’s the only one available on Earth. Chances are it is NOT going to be the only one ever offered to your woman, so don’t act like it is. And if you think it is the largest one available, you never met my second husband.

2.            That said, remember no truer words were ever spoke than: “It’s not the size of the boat but the motion of the ocean.” (I am reminded of the Jeff Foxworthy joke: “But it takes a dinghy a whole lot longer to get to England than a steamship.”) HOWEVER, Love also helps the result.

3.            Porn movies mostly teach men to beg their girlfriends to try new things with disastrous results.

4.            Believe it or not, you did not invent oral sex and there will be other men who know how it works. And for the love of GOD, don’t talk about it…just do it!

5.            Women have more intense orgasms than men because our time is limited. After menopause, we are freed of needing them constantly and can concentrate on our gardening and grandchildren. However, remember that we still enjoy sex. It will be more fun with the woman next to you in bed than it will be trying to earn the money a younger wife will cost. .

6.            A man who doesn’t learn to control the constant craving is not going to give the attention to the career he will need to get rich in to afford the young women he craves. Catch 22 can be so amusing.

7.            You can be the most skillful lover on Earth and give the greatest orgasms but we will STILL dump you if you are mean or act like an idiot. This is why God made vibrators.

8.            There are 6,000,000 more women than men in America. Chances are we are going to end up alone and we must be financially and emotionally prepared for it. Statistics prove that women need a TON more money than men to buy a man, so chances are it won’t help us. This is why God made chocolate.

It's All Right

Sonnet on Spending too Much Time on Facebook

Sonnet on Spending too Much Time on Facebook

I want to meet living breathing people

Not just upon the Facebook’s icy page

Talk occurs beneath my church’s steeple

But the rest of Earth leaves me in a rage

Thine headphones seal off earholes in the gym

Or upon thine cell phone thou dost natter

Walking or seated with a visage grim

Sternly bearing your teenager’s chatter

Neighbors stand behind closed doors as you pass

Trying to avoid the hallway face to face

You’re home all day as they laid off your ass

And the hot men no longer give you chase

With a sigh, back you log on to FB

Hoping that your life will be less MT

I Forgot 97 so THIS is the real 100th Sonnet

Number 100 The Last Sonnet

Sonnet one hundred is eluding me

I’d like to end the whole thing with a bang

I never found the rhythm or the key

My lady doth confess they never sang

Will did have his mystery dark lady

But aging broads are dismissed as stalkers

Regarded more as Sad Sack than Miss Sadie

Unsexed by their medicine and walkers

Still, there are proud moments to remember

And gave to me respect for poet’s muse

Apt it is to end it in December

And while we still can do it without booze

And thus I end my farting with this biz

The final sonnet and Whoot! Here it is!

A Novel Idea -- Roxy's Lost Years Inspired by 'Amour Americain'

Day One Year One: I Am Reborn

I open my eyes and still I am in darkness. Slowly, shapes and dots of light reveal themselves. White and silver on a canvas of ebony black. I realize that I am breathing hard, with cold air ripping through my lungs. Some THING rattles by and I do not know if it is a rat or an autumn leaf. The poem! Find the poem! Reach into my coat to touch the envelope and I smile, I can breathe again. I remember that, despite losing everything, all of my worldly goods, that I am loved by God and one woman. There is nothing more a man needs in this world. Nothing!

However, it is dangerous in this alley at two o’clock in the morning when even the sounds of taxis and the number 6 train are rare and there are strange and desperate men like myself moving through the empty streets. I shiver from the chill as I only had a moment when I realized that the men were coming up my stairs and I only had seconds to decide on what I could grab before being dragged out and cast into the street by the goons…no! No, Robert, don’t do that to them and yourself…by the men send to clear me out of my home.

Of course I made sure the poem was safe against my heart and then I went to my easel and found my oldest and dearest friend: a camel’s hair brush that I have been using since college; and slid that into my backpack. No time or room for canvas or color except for a new tube of crimson red that had yet to have its mouth unstopped. Unstopped. Strange word to use right now. The poetesses in my life have left their mark.

R U HERE? M I – September 22, 2013

R U HERE? M I – September 22, 2013

So, after forty years of good playwriting and three years of mediocre poetry, it’s been suggested that I hunt down and tame the elusive essay. Ah, what an intellectual bunch we are on Facebook: suggesting essays instead of flower arranging or knitting. Yes, I know that I will get fifty FB comments defining ‘essay’ and how I’m screwing up the form, but…your suggestions will be appreciated…through gritted teeth at times…but appreciated, damn it. I pray that you will not sweat the grammar to death, as the reason I became a playwright is that I do not see dangling participles but I will put them into a speech if they sound natural. Playwrights don’t have to do that there grammar stuff right.

Thank God for Spell Check.

I will begin this with a statement you will not agree with. While we are all shining stars, all alike and valuable…I am flawed. Please, no happy bright reassurances, I have to confront the reality of being raised by a control freak Mother. When I ran screaming into the night at the age of 19, I was not aware that she had undermined my self worth and self confidence and had habituated me into taking care of She Who Deigned to Permit To Live If I Was of Service to Her.  That I left her was also the best thing that happened to her as she remarried to find companionship.

As for my companionship, I was ripe for anyone who needed to control others. Being rudimentarily female, these masters would all be men. It’s taken me till the age of 64 to realize that they were all also as rejecting and impossible to please as Mom. Part of the Controller is that they will always criticize you, no matter what you are doing for them. (Including paying the bills and keeping house for two husbands.) But I always tried to do better for them. I always thought it was my fault that they didn’t want to do anything for me, that I was unlovable and unreasonable and uneducated and inferior. I eventually left them all and here’s the funny thing…they are all still alone in their 60’s and 70’s because is no way to satisfy a control freak. It’s not about whether or not you do it ‘right’, it’s about control, and so you can never do it ‘right.”

All right. This is Essay 1 and the fun has just begun.

And only one Spell Check error!!!!!

Final Sonnet and end of Reinhard Rites Blog