Investing in a Relationship

Hello ladies (and ok, men),

I’m not sure if you will agree with me, but I have a strong opinion that holding on to a relationship has a high incremental cost. In fact, the cost are so intelligently hidden at the start that if I could equate a relationship to a financial product, well, we could be facing another big financial crisis. Say hi to the new mini-bonds, ladies. We may risk losing all our capital as well. *gasp*

An investment into a relationship has an initial zero cost outlay. When you are drowning in love, it doesn’t matter if you have to pay for cab fares, movie tickets, presents, sexy dresses, etc. They don’t seem to cost anything, even though you would probably look forward to your pay-check more than anything at the end of a month. There is no energy wasted on quarrelling since love is strictly blind at this point in time and everything he does is either “cute” or “suave”.

As the term of a relationship progresses, you realise that the ’product’ doesn’t seem to be what was promised. He is no longer that perfect after all. His farts really stink, he has bad hygiene practices, he no longer calls you everyday and the list goes on. BUT, you still cherish a small hope, thinking that if you can bear all these nonsense, you will be with him till the end of time, against all odds. That’s love, isn’t it? So romantic. But wait, you start to notice COSTS which are creeping in not-so-subtly. In fact, most of the cost revolved around the constant generation of brain cells to whip up unnecessary compliments for him, a strong heart to take his insults and wrong-doings as well as the money you need to splurge on shopping in order to make yourself feel better. And oh, at this point in time, he is probably no longer interested in giving you surprises, and Ta Daa! Money and effort is needed to spring up surprises for him instead, and pathetically, for yourself. Did you hear that?? KA CHING!!!

Assuming that he actually bothers to give you a sense of commitment, you may find out that you have gotten yourself a portfolio rather than a single product. You have to manage his family as well, just so that these efforts can possibly land you a ticket to the church one day to say those marital  vows. But before you reach there, things aren’t exactly rosy. We are talking about more money to get even more presents for the birthdays of his mum, dad, brothers, sisters, grandmothers, grandfathers, dogs, cats, and pet birds. And oh, there are Christmas gifts too! More importantly, let’s not forget the effort needed to be remain politically right and to act decent in front of these distant people, as well as the effort required to learn how to cook, sew and sterilize utensils. You probably also have to give up hot dates with handsome and young hunks simply because you know that they will never want to pick up girls with greasy hair or girls who smell of some antiseptic detergent.

As time passes, you start to ponder about the maturity date of your ‘product’.  When can you cash out everything? Throughout the years, you realise that he will rather shout “goal!” in front of a tv for 50,000 times than to shout “please marry me!” for that ONE time in front of you, Then you have to manage your family’s and your own expectations. When are you getting married? Why is he not marrying you? These naggings will probably damage your ears, or even more importantly, induce psychological stress and emotional fears in you about men, faith, and happiness. You may also start sinking into depression when you realise that those “sweet young things” out there are no longer fierce competition. There isn’t a basis for competition, my dear. You have been defeated even before any comparison started. Traumatized? That’s COST.

And when God is finally kind enough to grant you the wedding you wished for, you realise that marriage, as cliche as it sounds, is indeed the tombstone for romance. It’s no longer “my dear, how’s your day?”, rather, it’ll be “hey, how are the kids doing?”. More importantly, the fats that have been accumulating around your waistline after giving birth to 10 kids ain’t exactly rewarding either. If he’s good to you, he’ll sign up a slimming package for you. If not, of which chances are high, he’ll expect you to lose those weight by doing more household chores. There’s no longer a distinction between a wife and a maid. You are the wife. You are the maid. Wife = Maid. Period. It is at this point in time when you finally realise that… you were sold a product that you didn’t want. Too late, your market has long crashed.

But hold on a minute.. what are the benefits that we are supposed to derive from our investment in this ‘product’? And how have they changed throughout the years of dating him?

These benefits (most likely for illustration purpose only – after all, real products are subject to market fluctuations) are:

1. Sex – highly definite that it reduces throughout the years: you are no longer fresh and exciting, remember? He can probably draw a detailed and accurate picture of your pussy without carbon/tracing papers.

2. Kisses and hugs - If these really decrease, well, be contented that he’s still fucking you. Let the kisses and hugs go. Sex is more important after all. No?

3. Care and concern - It diminishes at an exponential rate. We all know it when he takes you for granted and vent his frustration on you just because his hot female colleague has been promoted instead of him. And you are supposed to be very understanding, remember?

As much as I’m racking my brains, I can’t think of any other benefits. Now that we have gone through (somehow) a “pros and cons” analysis, enlighten me please. What’s the point of getting into a relationship when costs clearly outweights the benefits? Are we facing another misrepresentation crisis?

Conclusion: Think, more than twice, before you invest into a relationship.

Tarzan and Jane

I was sitting by my computer when a thought suddenly struck me.

How did man and woman first make love?

I am referring to the very first pair of man and woman. (Just in case you are wondering, I’m leaving dear Adam and Eve out of the picture – God can read.) How did they know that he should insert his penis into her vagina? What made them feel that it was safe to do so and that she wasn’t going to die if he stuck something of his into her body?

Analogy: Imagine me telling you that I’m going to push my finger into your nostrils, all the way up, until… I don’t know where. If you ask me why, I’ll say I’m just trying to see if either of us will feel good. Or something like that. Rationally, it would be a big “NO WAY”, isn’t it? So how and why did they do it?

I named the first pair of man and woman as Tarzan and Jane, since it seems to me that they should be living in that kind of era. You know, rocks, jungles, rivers, dinosaur bones lying around and then making friends with lions, giraffe and birds (say Madagascar!).

Well anyway, I imagine…

It was a bright and sunny day when Tarzan headed out to hunt for his food. Instead of the usual four-legged creatures that he had captured, Tarzan found Jane lying unconscious on the forest ground. The petite lady had tripped over some traps that Tarzan had set up for his prey. Called it fate or pure bad luck, the woman had fallen for the man (literally).

Tarzan was shocked by the similarity. All along, he (and his huge ego) had thought that he was the only one in the whole world. That being said, Tarzan could not help but notice some major differences between their body structures. So he proceeded to undress her (i.e. removing random but yet strategically placed leaves on her body), all in the name of curosity.

*Note: she may be partially/fully naked. At this point in time, I’m still not too sure if there’s a need to dress yourself up if you have been the only one of a kind around.

“Why does she have bigger lumps in front of her chest? Oh my god, They feel so soft in my big hands!” He licked her breasts excitedly, not realizing that Jane was slowly regaining her consciousness.

His hand moved downwards, trying to make further sense of the curvaceous body laying in front of him. “Why doesn’t she have the long thing that I have? Or is it hidden somewhere?” He sniffed around and spread her legs apart, trying to find a similar looking piece of meat inside that thick and hairy bush.

There was none.

Instead, what Tarzan saw was something really different. He couldn’t put a word to it. Neither could he explain his excitement. The only thing he knew was that, strangely, he couldn’t keep his eyes and hands off that area. So to figure out the mystery, Tarzan did what he knew best next. His tongue tasted Jane’s private area while his fingers continued to roam all over her body, not knowing that he was, in fact, teasing Jane mercilessly.

While all these went on, Tarzan realised his dick had gotten harder and longer. “Is that mine??? Wait… what’s happening?” He wondered. He gave himself a good rub, hoping to calm his stick down, but instead it seemed to stay up even stronger. (Note: that’s probably when masturbation was first discovered.)

Almost at the same time, some body fluid was dripping from Jane’s lower body and the sight did not escape Tarzan’s sharp eyes. Years of hunting skills that he had gained, they didn’t go to waste after all. His finger followed the traces of liquid, eventually leading him to a warm moist hole. Instinctively, as a man of that era, he stuck his finger in with much force.

“Ommpphh!!!” Jane was jolted awake.

Wait… was that a groan or a moan? Tarzan had his first experience of not understanding what a woman wanted. Afraid that she would start attacking him, Tarzan whipped out his new-found weapon and inserted himself into her body. (Of course, this was after sensing that it was safe to do so. After all, his finger came out safe, sound and wet.)

He thrusted with all his might, taking her gasps and moans to stop as signs of over-powering his prey. Yes, he was getting there soon. Victory had never felt so good before.

“Why can’t you listen to me?” That (in)famous statement by a woman was first heard. If she had the chance to speak her piece, Jane would say, “You are so rough! If you go any harder, your dick will be jutting out of my belly. Why can’t you be gentler and where the hell is my foreplay?”.

To shut her up, Tarzan shot his load into her mouth. Ok, that’s too far of a digress. Maybe Tarzan did that because… hmmm… they didn’t want to waste food. Anyway, after the orgasm, Tarzan ran off and wept silently in a secluded corner. He didn’t quite understand what had just happened. He knew he felt really good. In fact, he finally felt like a real man! That was all that mattered. At that special moment, Tarzan found a new meaning to live for. Life was no longer merely about throwing spears and stones at other beasts. Hurray!

Tarzan made a firm and fast decision that an orgasm was well-worth any effort. Thereafter, he fucked Jane whenever he can (regardless of Jane’s sexual mood), until they had enough babies to start a human population. He also figured that while he used to not have any choice (since Jane was the only woman back then), he now had many ladies to choose from. (Am I stirring thoughts of incest right now? I don’t mean it, I swear.) In addition, he realised breasts came in a variety of sizes and shapes. So did vaginas and waistlines. It was the concept of “having options” and he secretly made a vow to educate all his male descendants on the idea. (How evil.)

On the other hand, Jane didn’t mind the intensity of sex. That very first time of sexual intercourse, she felt an unfamiliar but great feeling. However, she did not really know what had happened, probably because… well…. Tarzan was a virgin and so he came too fast. Furthermore, there were subsequent times when she didn’t know he had started and… ended. Sexual frustration was built up and Jane jumped at any single chances of getting satisfied.  Soon after, she realised she had given birth to one child after another, all for the sake of trying her luck for reaching orgasm once again, or maybe, for the first time. (How sad. Aw.)

Before the technology for birth control methods was developed, Jane and other ladies soon invented dildos. In that way, the ladies did not have to keep getting pregnant simply because they wanted to be fucked. More importantly, they no longer had to rely solely on men who were real dickheads (pun definitely intended).

That is it – my version of the history of sex. I bet you didn’t know human population could have such a sexy story behind it, ya?

Sticks and Stones: sex toys …the beginning

In The Beginning… there was sex. And it was good …until that whole serpent thing …then it was really good. Since then a lot has happened. Though the Bible tells us “There is nothing new under the sun,” you know better …otherwise you wouldn’t be reading this. You’d be clicking your way through weather.com.

For those of us who’d rather make our own thunder rather than watch geeks chase storms, let us thank God for giving us the most amazing thing: SEX. Smart-ass that God is, The Almighty made damned sure his creation would last. Through feast, famine, slavery, war, and tax time, humans are sexual. We are either getting it, doing something to increase our chances of getting it, thinking about it, suppressing it, compensating for not getting it, compensating someone for giving it to us, downloading it, sexting it, lying about it, or dreaming about it. Face it: cradle to crypt, we are sexual beings. If you don’t agree, you’re repressing it.

As man and his big sex organ (brain) evolved, so did sexual variation and exploration. Sure, Fred and Wilma invited Barney and Betty over, and lacking cable TV, they ultimately enacted their very own X-rated Nature Channel. But even the best reruns become tiresome, and after lasciviously eyeing Dino, their eyes and minds surely continued to wander… “I wonder how those little round stones would feel if I shoved them up…” “…That warm mud-hole is lookin’ kinda’ inviting…”

Prehistorically, sex toys were quite simple. Early dildos were carved from bone, stone, or wood.

                                    Carved antler bone unearthed at an archaeological site in Sweden.                                                               Estimated to have been plunging orifices sometime between 4,000 and 6,000 BC.

It is believed that this phallus-shaped stone “tool” (precursor to the modern glass dildo) was used for pleasuring 28,000 years ago.  It was excavated  still clenched in the skeletal grip of an elder male surrounded by large number of sun-bleached female bones.  Forensic computer analysis of the much older male determined that he looked something like this:

Prior to humans harnessing power, the only way to add vibration (and its accompanying earth-shaking orgasms) was to have sex when and where the earth was actually shaking.  Early settlements clustered around geological faults, where vibrations sporadically occurred. The unpredictability and danger of living by geological faults led to unstable relationships and constant risk of death by falling rocks and molten lava.  What might have developed into early civilization devolved into a vortex of dissatisfaction and primal screaming “It’s your fault! … It’s your fault!!!”

Safe sex was hundreds of thousands of years away (…talk about “la petite mort!”) …and without motors (steam, electric) and modern materials (plastic, latex, silicone, CyberSkin, etc.) sex toys did not begin to become integral to human sexuality until the Industrial Revolution …unless you count the torturous kink of medieval times, the Spanish Inquisition, and witch hunts.  Amen!

There are innumerous books, web pages, and museums dedicated to the history of sex toys. I will not dwell on the past, but I hope to bring old and new, sexy and informative, fun and fascinating to this blog.  Subscribe.  You’ll laugh.  You’ll cry (hopefully from laughing).  You’ll get ideas…