Women are always late getting ready; Men are always late to show up.

       

   You were planning on leaving for date night at 7:00, its 7:00. You’re on the couch tapping your fingers on your leg in an overtly frustrated manner watching the pregame show barely audible in what seems to be in collusion with the hair dryer. You wonder why it bothers you so much when it happens every time; it’s so predictable. You didn’t even start getting ready until the last minute because you knew that you would be sitting on the couch for an hour waiting to go and didn’t want to wrinkle your just pressed clothes before you walked out the door. The hair dryer turns off and you can hear the makeup cases shutting and being put back into the ten little Ipsy bags. Zippers shutting drawers opening and closing and wait for it…… the selfie click! That means she’s done and it’s time to go.

   She walks into the room and owns it. you get that first date feeling followed by the let’s just stay home and keep that on feeling followed by the big eye, shy almost embarrassed look women  give when they just went full assault mode on every imperfection they think they have for an hour and a half. She’s fucking beautiful and your eyes can’t stop following every curve, dip and inseam from the bottom of that stiletto heel to the makeup giving her eyes that seductress vibe. They slant mischievously as you stand up and reach your hands out for her to lay hers on. Giving her a devilish grin you tell her; my love, you look amazing. You can’t even help yourself it’s a spell, she knows it and loves it. She was late getting ready but damn did she show up.

   You smack her on the ass walking out the door, she giggles. You love it when she giggles. As you get in the car you ask, where do you wanna go babe? I don’t know, where do you wanna go? She replies. Wherever you want babe? Oh I don’t care, she replies. This bullshit conversation has probably been the injection of the magazine into the gun holding the bullet that’s gone right through the forehead of a million relationships. Woman are so indecisive its fucking pathetic make a damn decision without the head games just one fucking time….

Fuck women right!

   No, fuck you dude…  and fuck me and fuck every guy who does this shit. She spent an hour and a half making herself beyond perfect for you to enjoy to your heart’s desire tonight. For ninety minutes she went over every part of herself; faced every physical insecurity she had, put on makeup, did her hair, obsessed about what to wear all day to give you a feeling of validation and a fucking babe on your arm. The whole time she was doing that you sat on the couch condescendingly jerking off your self-righteousness and all you had to do was figure out a place to go and just take her there.

You weren’t late getting ready, but you damn sure didn’t show up….

   Whether you understand it or not polarity exist. The divine stands before you adorned in her finest, radiance flowing from her being like a desert sunset. The smell of jasmine and cucumber in her hair, aloe on her skin and a fine mist of perfume sitting gently on her neck and breast beckoning the adoration of your lips. This woman, your woman, my woman; has allowed herself to be vulnerable in this moment. The feminine desires to be taken, desires dominance, desires the contrast of her being to ignite her soul and allow her to submit to her unrelenting need to feel and be felt. BUT! Sentences don’t start with but… but this but is a big fucking but. BUT only by the divine.  Only by the steady, firm, assertive essence of masculinity that is in exact opposition to her energy. These moments cannot be taken for granted in the monotony of day to day life. When she is fully in her feminine you must be fully in your masculine.

    Where do you want to go? I don’t know, where do you want to go? This is a conversation of two beings with absolutely no contrast. Want to get friend zoned by your wife? Keep that shit up… The feminine is movement. It can be a destructive wind or a refreshing breeze. It can be a morning mist or torrential down pour. That my friend is up to you and all the decisions you default upon her because of your inability to assert yourself.

   She wants to be taken, she wants to be embraced and guided by you. She does not feel subordinate in this situation but more in control. She is allowed flexibility of thought and movement of energies through her. Gift her freedom to enjoy her labors of adornment and just be beautiful for the night. Give her the chance to let go of her natural disposition to caretake and nurture and just be entertained.

  The feminine is a river of unfathomable energy.  Imagine the ocean crashing against a rock. You are the rock, she is the water. Let her flow and drift and oscillate and circle and crash against you in a hurricane of feminine energy. Find your center in the chaos, ground yourself, be the banks of the river that directs her energy into a beautifully calm lake. Gently grab her hand from underneath her fingers, bring it to your lips. Look her in the eyes and say… I made reservations, it’s a new place. Let’s adventure tonight.

Photo credit KatarzynaBiałasiewicz@123rf.com

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