The Female Conspiracy

The nice thing about being 40 and single is you no longer have to date teenage girls (and in most states are forbidden from doing so) and having to suffer through long hours of conversation where she patiently explains the way she'd like to be only to leave you the next day for someone who is exactly everything she told you she didn't want.

The nice thing about being 40 and single is you no longer have to date twenty-something girls (not that you ever stop wanting to) with killer bodies and a party attitude who you find drunk as a skunk in a back room sucking the cock of a gentleman with a nicer car than you.

The nice thing about being 40 and single is you no longer have to date thirty year old women who are dedicated either to their career (around which your time and energy must be scheduled) or dedicated to having children RIGHT FUCKING NOW and if you can't deliver she'll find someone who can.

The nice thing about being 40 and single is you get to date 40 something year old women. These women have dated assholes, both successful and unsuccessful, men who still lived in their parents' basement, men with no futures, no jobs, no steady income, no energy, no ambition, and no indication of every wanting to improve. They've been through the "I can change them" syndrome, and they're ready to settle.

Many of the these women are ready for Mr. Right, but have certain "needs" (sex) and are willing to hang out with someone who is halfway decent like yours truly. I have a steady income, a car that doesn't belong to the bank, an easy, relaxed non-judgmental attitude, a sense of humor and a healthy libido.

This woman becomes the "friend with benefits", at least until Mr. Right comes along. This woman is willing to settle for a man like myself who is a little bit of an asshole, but not so much that he's unbearable, and at other times is generally sweet, encouraging, but is honest about not wanting a relationship. Many of these women have joined yours truly in not wanting a long term commitment, because they (like me) value their independence and freedom, but it's awfully damn nice to have someone to sit with at the movie theater, to smack strawberry jelly with at the Poteet Strawberry Festival, and finally return home to shed clothing and inhibitions for no less than thirty minutes, but no more than forty five, unless I'm drunk and can't get it up, but she gets around this by making me drive . . . but I digress.

If all you sisters stuck together, I'd be in a pretty bad pickle, an extra sour one. It's because women give into the "friends with benefits" theory of life that men like me get to keep on keeping on in life without having to get married . . . or having to hire prostitutes.

The problem with abstinence and celibacy is it defies the basic human programming. God, Mother Nature, Life and/or the Universe wants us to fuck. You want to fuck. I want to fuck. If we met, we might like to fuck each other. Granted, I don't have as much stamina as your pink buddy with the double A batteries, but I'm human, warm, funny, unpredictable, sweet, tender, brutal and I pay for dinner and a movie without complaint (including gas). I also smell nice when I'm really being considerate.

I know there's a philosophy out there that says, "Ladies, don't give him sex until you're sure you're in a relationship, committed or otherwise". It's good advice, and it works like gangbusters when women can stick to it, and many can and have. But at the first stumble, the body, male or female, will always default to . . . fuck it, let's find someone to have sex with to accomplish any of the following goals:

Get back at him.
Feel desirable again.
Get crazy to relieve stress.
Relieve the loneliness.
Relieve the pent up libido.

And so on. . . .

I've done a lot of things I wouldn't otherwise have been tempted to do because of the shape of a particular woman's ass, breasts, smile, eyes, and so on, because I wanted her to smile, because I wanted her to like me, because I wanted her to part her thighs, because I wanted her.

It's okay. I'm comfortable with being manipulated, because I know women are also being manipulated by men, by women, by moms, by peer pressure, and by their own libido and ticking biological clock.

Thank God most conspiracies fail. If this one had succeeded, I'd be married again, and I'm enjoying being single too much right now.

Of course, the girl with the right smile, the right glitter to her eyes, and the right dirty joke on her gleaming, wet lips could change all that.

Aaron Diaz Hoal
August 9th, 2009

What I Learned From Dating Fat Chicks

First of all, fat chicks don't always have low self esteem.

Portly or no, every girl is grateful for a good roll in the hay (and sometimes even a bad one), but not every girl appreciates a good roll in the hay like a fat chick does. I won't bother defining what makes a fat chick fat. Our definitions would differ, from me to you, from you to your friend, from your friend to your friend's favorite supermodel, and so on. But I will offer that in my experience fat chicks don't hate themselves nearly as much as skinny chicks.

Fat girls are fat. They already know what's wrong with them. They either eat too much, don't exercise enough or both. They don't go looking for other flaws. Why bother when you can't escape the biggest flaw of all? Skinny girls, on the other hand, can be trying. They are the conquistadors of low self esteem, always seeking out the next flaw, in perpetual journeys across the mirrors of the world for the next wrinkle, next cellulite, next mole, freckle or sagging body part.

Skinny girls spend more time in front of the mirror, and they don't eat or if they do eat they spend a suspiciously large amount of time in the bathroom directly afterward. Fat girls aren't anorexic, and usually not bulimic, or if they're bulimic they have the added curse of not being very good at it. After all, the point is to be thin, right?

When you take a skinny girl to a pizza joint, they either order salad or they get halfway through one slice and pat their tummies with a simpering smile. Which means I eat the rest of the pizza, which means I get fat. Fat girls carry their fair share of the eating, which means they stay fat and I stay however I am.

Skinny girls have more energy during sex, but who wants that? I don't want a girl that will make me walk like I had a colonoscopy with a fumble-fingered doctor the next day. I want a girl that exhausts quickly. I can do foreplay, but fiveplay and sixplay gets a little tiring.

I want a girl that drinks beer. 'nuff said.

Skinny girls are like skeletons in a latex dress. Fat girls got curves (sometimes hidden under other curves).

And frankly they're more fun to be around. They worry less about food, booze and laying on the couch for the entire weekend. And if you want to go somewhere, all you have to do is suggest that it will be good exercise. Dangle dreams of being thin and they're in the car with a towel and a water bottle in nothing flat. Fat girls do worry about skinny girls stealing their men, of course, (I doubt skinny girls worry about their man straying to plumpville), but they want to believe. When you explain to them that the thin, bony toothpick girls disgust you, they believe you. Skinny girls always worry someone skinnier will steal you away.

Fat chicks appreciate attention more. Skinny girls, pretty or not, get attention. They get a lot of it. If they're skinny except for their breasts, then they get even more attention. Watch the eyes of every man in a bar when a fat chick and a skinny chick walk in together, and you will begin to think that fat chicks have the gift of invisibility, though not always by choice.

Slather attention on a skinny chick and she'll be sizing you up. Are you the only game in town? Is there anyone else in the place that looks a little better, a little more successful? Smile at a fat chick and she's halfway yours. Ignore the skinny chick she's with and her thighs will part like a biblical sea.

Granted, depending on your definition of fat, the mechanics of sex may alter or even suffer slightly, but how many of us guys have laid our physiques over the girl of the evening and worried about crushing her? You don't worry about that so much with fat chicks. You do occasionally worry about the reverse, but again, that depends on your taste.

Last, but not least, I proclaim that dating fat chicks is not my fetish. It's just that more and more people are fat in the U.S., and I'm no slender puppy myself. And, of course, there is a difference between being curvy and obese, the number of curves for one thing. The heavier you get, the less curves you have. They are replaced by rolls. But when you kiss the pizza sauce stained lips of a curvy chick and tell them they're the most beautiful thing you've seen come around since flat screen plasmas, you'll see how easy the light turns on in their eyes. It's fun to switch that light on, and it makes you feel good.

And in the dark, all boobs have nipples, all voices moan and all beds squeak the same, though some admittedly more than others.

Aaron Diaz Hoal
(Originally published 4/7/08)

I have 2 eyes in a blind kingdom, and yet I'm still not king.

GOOD ADVICE FOR DUMB PEOPLE (Part 1)

On Living:

Everything that you do will bite you in the ass. It could be good. It could be bad. Either way, you will complain about it.

On Dating:

You're not interesting; she's not interesting. Together, you're far less interesting. You're both too picky and it's a miracle you managed to get past date #2 without fucking it up. Your chances of lasting through the long haul, through the big M, in a Universe where Victoria's Secret supermodels / waifs parade up and down a television runway in nothing but their underwear and white angel's wings . . . . . . . . . . . . sorry, lost my train of thought . . . oh yeah, your chances of making it are almost nil.

So, here's the thing. Don't worry about how long it will last or what it means, savor the shit out of it while you've got it, because after he or she or it shreds your heart into more pieces than a Lehman Bros. retirement plan, long after you've gone broke on the therapy bills and gotten past the pain and the betrayal and the "that fucking bitch" syndrome, you'll have something nice to get all nostalgic about when you're listening to your next girlfriend drone on about how her boss /friend is such an idiot and can't even wear shoes that match her belt.

On Dying:

You're gonna die. You don't know when. You don't know how. Treating your body like some holy temple through which no evil shall pass, not cheese, not meat, not second hand smoke, will get you hit by a bus and / or killed by a chunk of wing off a poorly maintained international aircraft going to all the places you're afraid to go because you know the water there isn't quite "right". Why? Because God hates pompous asses, self-righteous asses, and people who don't know how to have fun with the life they've been given. On the other hand, treating your body like a theme park called GarbageLand USA will probably build up your immune system, but it will also make you feel like crap, and therefore make you wish you were dead, because you can't stand up straight, and in your hunched-back glory, you spend more time coughing up phlegm than you do breathing.

So, the key is to eat well most of the time, eat crap every now and then. Walk every day, and I don't mean to and from the fucking car. I mean, around a track, at a park, anywhere that gets your heart pumping and your lungs filling, and only do stupid, reckless, spontaneous things every once in a long while.

Exercise:

Listen very closely! You do NOT have to run six miles a day before breakfast, then hit the gym on the way home. You do NOT have to throw up. You do NOT have to take expensive herbs, pills and potions to feel normal, and you and I and the entire fucking world know that there are no quick fixes. Liposuction won't make you healthy. Breast implants won't make you feel better about yourself. They'll only make you feel better about your tits and leave a special "prize inside" your coffin. You do NOT have to buy any book that has the word "Diet" in it. This includes, but is not limited to, The South Beach Diet, The Atkins Diet, The Gerbil Food Diet and "Hey, Look, I Ain't A Fatty No More" by Starr Jones. No one can tell you anything more than you already know about food, but just in case you're a complete and total idiot (and I always assume that which is the highest probability), I will explain.

Running tears up your knees. Treadmills are boring. Weights are boring and tear up your joints. Swimming is good. Walking is good. Having fun is really good, even if it's doing something dorky like wearing a cape, wrapping foam around a stick and meeting all your friends from the Society for Creative Anachronisms down at the park to properly educate your "Squire" upon the most chivalrous uses of his "sword".

Eating fat is bad. Eating a shit load of food is bad. Eating in a restaurant, fast food or not, is almost always bad, even when you think you're being good. Sugar is bad. Vegetables are good, but not deep fried, soaked in butter or sprinkled with sugar. Meat is okay, but not wrapped around or stuffed with cheese, deep fried, soaked in butter or sprinkled with sugar, and absolutely no roadkill. It's disgusting and you know it. I don't care if you are from Mississippi.

It's more important to feel healthy than it is to look healthy. Fuck anyone who tells you different. They can look healthy in their coffin, but you'll be the one making snide comments about how "lifelike" they look.

If you're so fucking fat that you can't manage it on your own and you want to get your stomach stapled or lap-banded or tied in a knot by a party clown with balloon experience then do so. Be proactive. Realize that it's still not a magic solution and that you're still going to have change your health, your psychology and your behavior. Food can be a reward sometimes, but not every meal is a fucking Grand Pris Trophy.

Fucking:

You can do it fast. You can do it slow. You can be hard and/or gentle. You can fill whatever holes you like as long as it's mutual. A little bruising or redness is acceptable, but anything that sends you to the hospital or that leaves lifelong scars is coming about because you have gaping wounds inside you that haven't healed. Get your ass to a therapist, figure your shit out, then go back and try it again.

Pleasure feels good. Pain can feel good. Both can be rewarding. Role-playing is fine. Public sex is fine, as long as you are aware that anyone who happens along has the right to call the cops if they so desire. It wouldn't be as exciting without the fear of getting caught, right? Well, do it enough and your excitement will be fully realized.

Having a fetish is fine as long as the fetish does not become the sole focus of your sexual desire. Sex is supposed to be about connecting with yourself and possibly another person, or two. It is not supposed to be the end all be all of your existence.

Don't fuck animals. Don't fuck children. I don't give a shit if you think your neighbor's schnauzer was coming on to you or if that little boy in his front yard was blowing kisses your way. They weren't. They can't give their consent, and even if they could, they don't understand the act they're consenting to, because they're too stupid and immature.

You are an adult, and you're reasonably intelligent. Check yourself in and get your shit figured out or we can and will catch your ass and send you to a place where you can't give consent and aren't given a choice, but will get everything that's coming to you, and no one will care because we'll be too busy applauding a three time loser who made the mistake of ripping off a shop that specializes in security cameras, but who also found inside his heart the time and energy to rape you.

to be continued

Aaron Diaz Hoal

(originally published 10/12/08)

Date Me . . . you know you want to.

I might be married, but you won't know for sure until we've slept together, after which I will absolutely not, under any conditions, call you the next day . . . or ever for that matter. Well, Saturday night when I've had one too many and feeling a little horn--er, lonely, I might call you then.

It's too late in the battle for equality for me, the man, to pay for dinner, or to drive or to dress nice. You'll need your own car and good plastic. Also, you might go ahead and bring some condoms so I don't have to make any extra stops, though if all goes well you'll be picking me up at my place and returning me there after the date. Please lock the door on your way out in the morning. You might also consider feeding the dog, changing the cat litter and cleaning up a little.

On the first date, I promise at some point to pull down your top and go "Brrrrrrr!" between your breasts, because I know you girls love that, the attention, the admiration, etc. I also guarantee to let you go first through every door and up any stairs or escalators for the sole purpose of watching, and commenting on, your ass. I swear to comment on every other halfway attractive woman, pointing out the parts of their body that are supremely better than yours, and giving you a "I'm just kidding" expression, but which will also have that "Not really" gleam in the eyes. I may or may not nod off during your endless chattering. I snore. It's best to let me wake up on my own, otherwise I tend to get violent. You might consider talking less and listening more. I will have endless conversation about drinking, fucking, sports, video games, other women, my life, my interests, things that piss me off, things that REALLY piss me off, and the time I almost stuck my dick in a cow. Laugh. A lot, and nod, and smile, and lick your lips to let me know you're actually listening.

I will bring lots of drama into your life, and lots of chaos. I like games, emotional games, sexual games, board games, bored games, games where I call you lots of bad things, but only to help lower your self esteem. We both know that makes you more manageable and that you secretly love it. I will admit that I'm not much of a hitter, so sadly you'll have to go somewhere else for any physical abuse. I'll take care of the emotional and verbal sabotage though. We're all weak in one area or another; this is mine.

I won't be isolating you from your friends, unless they're married, give good advice or are otherwise unavailable to me. I wouldn't dream of telling you to get rid of any girl friends that I might be able to sleep with behind your back. Don't worry, you'll find out, that's what drama is all about.

I'm not an attractive man, nor am I thin or young, but you should be both young (or look young) and thin. Don't worry, it doesn't meant I won't date you. It only means I get to taunt you with calls of "fatty" and that you have to go to the gym daily and stop eating, but it's okay, because you're doing it to please me and that's what's important. Also, your breasts should be in decent shape, a nice size and not too saggy. You might consider plastic surgery, implants, tucks, etc. Again, you're doing it for me, but you'll need to finance this yourself.

Girls who are exempt from dating me:

• Anyone nicknamed "princess". We don't need two high-maintenance people in the "relationship".
• Anyone with more than one kid. Shoving one kid off constantly on a friend or family member is perfectly acceptable, but after that your house starts to look and smell like kids live, vomit and poop there. I don't want to meet them and I won't be their new daddy. I don't "do" kids, in any sense of the word. Exception: if you have a daughter that is or is nearing 18, but she better be hot.
• Anyone who is already dating (or married to) someone who is already more of an asshole than me. You don't need me and what fun is that?
• Anyone with family nearby, unless you hate them, then we're in business.
• Anyone in therapy. Unless the therapist has a drinking or drug problem.
• Fat chicks. Don't worry, we can still have sex in between your episodes of starving yourself and going to the gym, but we can't be seen together until you can fit it into your size 4 jeans (or smaller).

I drink. A lot. I smoke. All kinds of substances, even dog poop once, but it was an accident. I frequently have problems with erections, so I probably won't last very long, but don't worry, I'll get off. You may or may not. You'll just have to get faster. Also, I don't do oral, but you will, and you'll probably have to learn to love anal and some other rather nasty things. It just depends on the kind of day I've had and how much I've had to drink.

And I'd like to add I'm very open minded. It doesn't bother me if you have tattoos and piercings everywhere or if you think you might be a lesbian or half lesbian or 1/4 lesbian.

Aaron Diaz Hoal

(Originally published 7/23/08)