Words, and lack of such, have power.  Not just metaphorical power, like the bullshit happy-PC-thought crap your English teacher tried to pass off as gospel during the one-week poetry unit you suffered through in sixth grade where you were told that an inspirational line of iambic pentameter once stopped the massacre of a thousand bunnies, but honest to goodness, sock you in the mouth like a drunk guy at a Raiders game, power.  Every writer wishes she could harness this electricity of ass-kicking at will, and every moron who has been hit one too many times on the head with a sledgehammer spouts nail gun precise barbs as easily and naturally as a two-year old wipes snot onto his aunt’s sleeves.

Trust me, a two-year old with a grass allergy is like a snot ninja.

But people give away this power too easily at times.  Often because of emotional turmoil, people sometimes blather away and leave little bits of power lying about the pavement.  For example, I’m walking along with two guys who happen to be father and son and we’re discussing a young woman.  The conversation eventually turns to her attractiveness, because we’re guys and we can, where the son and I agree she’s at least an 8 or 8.5.  The third father guy asks, “Yea, but is she my kind of hot, or your kind of hot?”  Now I know he’s asking me in his attempt at being polite but really coming off as judgmental way, “Is she skinny enough for my taste?” because guy number three, being 300 pounds of hypocrite, can’t find a woman over 110 pounds attractive.

I honestly tell him that he wouldn’t find her as attractive as we did.  And here’s where his verbal vomit spilled some drops of power onto the ground to be picked up by anyone listening.  He responds, without any prompting, “Ah.  You know, the only reason I still find <his wife’s name> sexy is because she’s my wife.”

Yea, he said it.  And I greedily stored away the gem and informed him that perhaps I’ll share this information with <his wife’s name> the next time he pisses me off.  I’m then informed, “Do it and I’ll break your jaw.  She’d be mad at me for like a minute, and you’d have a wired shut jaw for six months.”

He was just completely oblivious to the TWO statements of power that he just tried to worm into his son’s brain.  First, any woman who doesn’t conform to some stylized image of beauty is unfit to be considered sexy, even if she’s had four children, unless she’s bound to you by some contractual relationship.  What a great message for a boy about his mom, right?  And then there’s the second message that this guy married such a milk-toast self-hating wet noodle that upon hearing that she is only attractive because he’s stuck in the marriage she’d be angry for only 60 seconds!  And if I hadn’t been there to grab those little nuggets of powerful words and redirect them with humor and a counterpoint, the son would’ve grown up to be an ass like his dad.

So yea, I told the son that, unlike his father, I prefer my ladies to be any size they’re comfortable with, and with a bit more backbone (Hi Denise and Cheri!).

Women aren’t immune to misusing the power of words.  I was lying down next to a beautiful, naked woman, caressing her bare skin with my fingertips, and gently kissing her neck.  Suffice it to say, she was enjoying the attention.  So I playfully whisper into her ear, “How about I kiss my way down and sip nectar from your sweet flower?”

Okay, I actually said, “How about I give you some oral sex?”  Sue me for trying to rewrite a little romantic power into my own words.  Anyways, her response was…

“Meh.”

Meh?  Meh?!  A single syllable that punched a hole into my pancreas with its simple denial of pleasure.  I did the only thing I could think of doing… I laughed.  So she laughed.  And the power of that tiny non-word refusal became a sphere of humor.  We could only come up with two phrases that would be worst ways for a woman to refuse cunnilingus for a sexual partner:

  1. No, I haven’t wiped away the cum from the last guy.
  2. Well there’s a tampon I haven’t changed since this morning there right now.

Besides those, an indifferent, “Meh,” is the worst response.  Just say, “No,” or “Not now,” or “Your tongue feels like sandpaper on my pleasure button.”  Anything but a sound that is also used to describe someone’s interest in watching an Austin Powers movie marathon.

The point of this rambling is be careful with your words.  Use that power wisely, carefully, and judiciously.  Or use it to catcall a forty year old milf wearing yoga pants as she bends over to pick a bikini bottom from the lowest rack.

What can I say, that ass was fine.  Security didn’t see it that way though.

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