Tag Archives: Women

The Solvers and The Havers

Most men enjoy solving problems;

It gives them a meaningful life.

Alas, this is not something wanted

By most men’s eventual wife.

A man will fix up an auto,

A house, a business, a toy,

But it’s not solving problems but having them

That I’ve noticed most women enjoy.

A woman takes pleasure in saying

“I’m hungry, I’m tired, I’m gross,”

Because other women say “me too”

And by such connection grow close.

If a man tells another “I’m hungry”

Another will say “have a snack”

And the problem is solved with five words

And the men to their task may go back.

Now the trouble occurs when the solvers

Treat problem-lovers the same:

A woman says “I’m bored,” and the man

Says “go play a video game.”

Now if the woman obeys him

She’ll prob’ly no longer be bored

And thus need another discomfort

Until her drama-quota’s restored,

So the man has given a solution

Which really won’t help her a bit

So she says “you don’t understand me!”

And runs off and calls him a git.

The man is confused by her answer

But has a solution to that:

He says to himself “bitch be crazy”

And then changes the sink in his flat.

So men, if you want to help women

Be happy then here’s what to do:

Have lots of flaws in your character

So she’ll always have drama with you.

And women, you know how to please a man

And don’t need advising from me,

But (as a man I must say this)

Without drama how happy you’ll be!

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Back When Some Men Weren’t Rapists

I remember yesterday

When to look at someone was okay,

When an elbow or a shoulder touch

Didn’t mean nearly so much.

I remember yesterday

When a compliment would make her day,

When “you look nice” was not a slur

When casually said by him to her.

I remember yesterday

When a man held doors and asked to pay,

When a bit of gentle care

Was not met with a dour glare.

I remember yesterday

When a guy could idly say

“What’s your number?” and not fear

Her screaming “rape” for all to hear.

So if you remember yesterday

In the aforementioned way

And know its loss would lead to sorrow

Let’s keep the past in mind tomorrow.

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They Probably Met Online

Sharp and cold’s the flashing rain

Upon my black umbrella

Which I relinquish happily

Unto my new love, Stella.

Now her springtime golden tress

Is dry as my nervous mouth

For my journey takes me northward

While she vacantly looks south.

I stammer “what’s your number?”

As an adolescent might,

And I’ll never forget her eyes,

Dark blue just like the night.

“First you give me this thing,”

She says towards my umbrella,

“Then follow me for blocks

“Like I’m some sort of Cinderella?

“I won’t give you my number

“And I beg you, leave me be!”

Then she closed my umbrella

And thrust it into me.

And in that painful moment,

Twice breathless made am I

For my heart says “Dude, she saw you!”

Though my gut tells me to cry.

Thus as my tears join eagerly

The gutter’s growing moat

I wish her path be free of puddles

For I cannot lay down my coat.

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Tom Is The Perfect Man

She says she wants a man

Who’ll be honest and true,

Who’ll give her his heart

And support when she’s blue,

Who say they’re old-fashioned

But open to stuff,

Safe and spontaneous,

Non-threatening but buff,

And I can’t help thinking

As I look in her eyes

That I’m glad I’m her cat

And not one of those guys.

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Romance, California Style

It may have been love

If that’s what you call it,

‘Cause I liked her tits

And she liked my wallet.

As it turned out later

Hers and mine were both fake

But we both loosed our hair buns

And took what we could take.

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Cinderella, Millennial

As the clock strikes midnight

In the palace of ice

My glass shoes turn to cowhide,

My horses become mice,

My hair falls in dirty sheets

Over my blouse, which ironically

Is also made of dirty sheets

Which still smell better than me,

And I see my prince’s eyes widen

And he tells me I’m still beautiful

So I slap him and run away

‘Cause I don’t like being objectified

By one-percenters.

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How Real Men Express Love

When we met I asked “Can I buy you a drink?”

When we left I asked “Your place or mine?”

When the mood was right I leaned in close

And asked “you sure this is fine?”

And so the night proceeded,

As again consent was had

For removing one sock, then the other, then a shirt,

Just to make sure no one felt bad.

And as I removed my underthings

(Consensually, and with heart)

I realized I hadn’t checked about my shoes

And suggested we restart.

She said she was ok with it

And told me “just whip it out!”

So I grabbed my legal contract

And she began to pout.

At this point I could see

She wasn’t happy, so we parted.

I was just happy to be safe.

She was broken hearted.

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