The Day I Shot Cupid (5 page)

O
kay, price of nice perfume—$50. Lotion
and powder to go with it—$150. Victoria’s Secret nightie—$45. Mascara, eyeliner, concealer, blush, gloss, and foundation—at least $250. And mani-pedi—at least $30. Just some of the things we do as women to get our guys all hot and bothered, and it works. It attacks them like the bird flu and makes them defenseless. We become sex goddesses, smelling of roses and vanilla, with smoky eyes and French tips, slinking across the room with our hair cascading around us, in a body-hugging nightie that we will never wear again.

And yet, romance (or that damn Cupid) shoves one more pin in our alluring balloon. A
study was done a few years ago to find out what scent got men going. They were all blindfolded and asked to smell a bunch of different aromas. This is where you’ll want to sit down.
Every one of them
picked the same thing. Was it exotic? Did it smell of unforgettable nights in Europe? Could it change your sex life forever? Not unless you find breakfast arousing. They all picked the smell of freshly baked cinnamon rolls. Are you kidding me?

Okay, my first two problems—who included breakfast in the perfume test? (Must have been a man.) And do I actually have to worry more about the factory girls from Pillsbury than their model exes? Honestly, what is the world coming to? I refuse to walk around with frosting behind my ears and cinnamon on my wrists. A French maid or a Playboy Playmate is okay to get your man’s motor running, but to pretend to be a croissant? That is where dignity is lost. So save all of your beauty money, and I guess if you want to take him to bed, take him to breakfast.

O
kay, so we have all done it. Taken the
walk. We have connected with someone, or some tequila bottle, and found ourselves in day two of the same outfit. Taken what is affectionately called THE WALK OF SHAME.
QUESTION:
How come John Travolta walks down the street with a theme song after dancing all night and everyone thinks he’s cool? Yet we all can’t get a cab or friendly “good morning” without judgment and misunderstanding. SO WHAT? I DIDN’T GO HOME! The outfit looked great last night, maybe it will look even better in the light of day. “He said he could see into my soul” (okay, maybe that’s not a good reason to take the walk). Sometimes
stuff happens! What are we supposed to do? Turn our car into a mini walk-in so that others approve? Not ever follow our hearts down Impulsive Street? And why do we care? And here’s a bone—who made it the walk of shame? Why can’t it be the “I had a good time walk” or “the walk of accomplishment”? Maybe we just all care too much about what others think.

So right here, right now, let’s change it! NO MORE SHAME! Take a walk whatever time you want, with a theme song or without, but hold your head high. It’s time to be proud of our decisions, and remember, the outfit you wear tonight, you better like in the morning.

This is not for those with delicate stomachs, so
beware. In relationships there are lots of big moments, cliffhangers, and showstoppers, and then what I like to call “oh no he didn’ts!” Let me set the scene: it’s another beautiful day in your dreamy relationship with Mr. Perfect and you decide to be a domestic goddess for your man. Besides writing “Mrs._____________” over and over again on a piece of paper, the other way to pretend you’re in domestic bliss is to do his laundry, see your whites next to his whites, your thongs next to his briefs. It’s the moment
you don’t want anyone to walk in on because they would think you were absolutely hopeless. And then, as if you were in the front row of a horror movie, it appears. THE SKID MARK.

Stop everything. Unless you have had bad fish or the twenty-four-hour flu, there is just no excuse. WIPE HARDER! And if you know there’s a chance that something might get left behind, wash them yourself, or burn them. I have been introduced to Mr. Brown and I didn’t handle it well at first. I screamed and ran to the opposite end of the house. Why? I
don’t know. Maybe I thought it would leave or clean itself or I was just dreaming. Then, with the
Rocky
theme song in my head, I decided that no brown ugly was going to get me down. So back I went! I grabbed those undies, with tongs of course, and threw them in the machine. I felt like a real woman. I knew that oodles of women had washed skids before me. I felt domestic and ready to take on whatever the world had to offer. I wondered if I would look at him differently, pay closer attention to what he was eating, and wonder every time if I would come face-to-face with it again. By the way, after that, he did the laundry.

S
o you’re out with your guy, and it is breakfast
time at your favorite café. The sun is shining, your skin glows perfect in the light, his eyes are still a little bit puffy from waking up, his bed-head is irresistible, and your guy can’t stop staring at you. The type of staring you hope other women see because (a) you want witnesses and (b) you know for a brief moment of time they will be jealous and wish they were with him. Oh, but he is so not with them! He is yours and so happy to be a slave to the sparkle in your eyes! (P.S. Sparkle is provided by hot boyfriend staring.) And then it happens. And, oh ladies, it has happened to all of us. The moment that he says, “YOU ARE THE MOST
BEAUTIFUL WOMAN IN THE WORLD. I LOVE IT WHEN YOU DON’T WEAR MAKEUP. I WANT TO BE WITH THE GIRL IN SWEATS AND NO MAKEUP FOREVER.”

You are floored for many reasons. First, you have to forget the $30 you spent on hottie products, but, more important, all of that worry you’ve had for years, thinking of how you could erase supermodels so you could be noticed. Getting up two hours earlier than him to put on makeup so he doesn’t see you without the mask. Worried that guy 187 didn’t call because he met someone prettier. It’s gone. Vanished. It only took one guy, your guy, to make you feel more beautiful than you could have imagined. Forget burning bras, you want to burn it all! Every product. And feel free in your naked beauty. So you kiss him, a big one that says I’ll thank you now and later. You sit back and feel like the queen you are. You look around at the other women and wonder if they’ve had such a moment and, if not, hope they do. You are the natural Heidi Klum walk
ing down the runway of no-worries and everyone wants what you’re selling. (Cue the record scratch.) WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?! Did your guy just check out another girl? And not just with his eyes, but did he just turn his head? And for the girl in the March
Vogue
cover outfit and full makeup? And is he really trying to play it off like I didn’t see it?

And why did that skank buzz-kill my moment?! This has happened to all of us. To me, way too many times. And I personally will never get it.
QUICK QUESTION, GUYS:
If you love us, your partner, with no makeup, but your head turns toward the girl who has spent four hours in the bathroom, what are we supposed to do? And the excuses kill me. One guy said, and I quote, “Baby, I wasn’t looking at that girl, my neck hurt and I was stretching it out.” Guy two said, “Girl? What girl? I thought that was a dude.” And, my personal favorite, from guy number three: “You know, a lot of people have noticed it is hard for me to focus on one thing, maybe I have adult ADD.”

Seriously, they will go to any length to protect the right to stare. To admire someone’s beauty is natural, but the head-turning, dead-mouth drooling, and saying that you love us natural and then gawking at America’s Next Top Model is really hard to swallow. So what does it all mean? They should all be killed, that’s what it means (said like the little kid in
The Shining
—sorry, that was my inside voice talking!). Should we express the way it makes us feel? Or do we, and this sounds easy, accept it as a thing that men do that’s harmless, and unless they leave you at the café to follow the skirt home, don’t worry. Be annoyed, but don’t worry. MEN WILL ALWAYS LOOK.

So next time it happens, brush it off. And no matter what your inner voice tells you, know that if he left you it would be his biggest mistake. For the extremely insecure, the category I sometimes fall into, never let his wandering eye make you feel like you are not good enough. It’s like a dog that is full and fat. It doesn’t need food or want food, but if it’s there it will beg for
it. And remember, it’s in our nature to want what we can’t have. On the other hand, even if guys have to stare, it’s a part of their nature, blah, blah, blah, but it’s not okay if it hurts you. If it bothers you, that’s one thing. If it hurts you, talk to him. And to the guys who might be reading this, be gentle. Looking at other girls while we are standing there can hurt. And then maybe some of you should be happy with the woman you have. In a relationship, don’t look backward or forward, look right next to you. You are probably luckier than you realize. I say this to everyone. Love and relationships are already complicated, and making your partner feel like you’d rather be somewhere else doesn’t help anything. There are a lot of people in the world to be with, and there will always be someone smarter, prettier, or more interesting.

If girls are putting it out there, guys are going to pick it up. They are not in a relationship with you and actively looking for something else. They are just doing what my boyfriend and I call “the register.” They are registering
the opposite sex as a slight release of the old single guy and their right as “your guy” to still be able to look without it destroying you. It doesn’t mean they want to run off and start a life with every girl they look at (that’s in
our
heads). It’s strictly physical and not emotional. By the way, we as women should register, too! Ladies, try to accept guys for who they are and don’t take it personally. Guys, be more sensitive to your partner, and if you have to look, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, WEAR SUNGLASSES!

the book has officially been hijacked by a MAN, who is funny, I trust, and has insight into the female mind. I hope you find what you read next as enlightening and inspiring as I did. True to women’s form, I had to jump in every now and then!

(men hope so…)

“I like big butts and I cannot lie.” Boy, Sir Mix-a-lot
was a genius. No truer words have ever been spoken. The rear end or the booty has been the subject of fascination for the male species since the Stone Age.

I’m here to tell you, as a man, a guy, or whatever you want to call me, what we REALLY like. We like your BUTT, and we like it BIG.
Hold on a second! JLH here! I have to jump in! Did a man just say he likes our butts? And big? Then what has the last ten years of self-
torture been about? Why didn’t we know this before and where is the nearest Baskin-Robbins? Sorry, continue.
It’s the last impression guys have of you when you’re walking away. It’s like the end credits of a movie. It’s what we envision as something we can grab and hold. Something that will keep us warm and protect us from tropical storms because we can hide under it. But somehow in the last thirty years someone thought the butt should be smaller, tiny, like an eight-year-old boy’s even. WHAT!@#$%%? (NEEDLE SCRATCH.)

Ladies, ladies, ladies, let me tell you something. Stop trippin’ on yo’ butt. Let your man decide how big it should be for you.
JLH again! Okay, he can decide how big, but I have to carry it in my pants. You want a bigger butt? Say the word. Whatever you want, sweetheart. Sorry, keep going.
If you look at the history of film, from Olivia de Havilland in the beginning, all the way through the sixties, seventies (especially Russ Meyer films), Kelly LeBrock in the eighties and the nineties with J.Lo and Salma
Hayek, etc., women have always had big, round, beautiful derrieres. You notice how I didn’t mention Cate Blanchett and Nicole Kidman in that sentence. Classy, beautiful women, nonetheless, but no junko in the trunko. (Although, I will say, as far as Englishwomen go, Kate Winslet does have a nice badonkadonk.)

We men worship your heinie. First of all,
more cushin’ for pushin’, more round to ground
, and
bootylicious
, are all terms that apply to women that men love.
Oh, you know who it is! If I could just eat a double-double right now and shake it naked, I would. This is hot! Women everywhere—pay attention. A man who knows other men, and is surrounded by a city of beautiful, thin women, wants you bootylicious. Come on, tell me this is not the best day ever!
Shapely and curvy is what turns men on, not NOSITOL (no ass at all). It says that our women are sexy, strong, and yummy. When we see a woman with the kitchen sink as her backside, we just want to kiss you all over after we tackle you like a fullback on the thirty-yard line at Soldier Field.

I feel that women somehow (maybe when aerobics started…damn you, JANE FONDA!!!) have lost touch with what men desire and are trying to go against the natural grain of BONERISM.

Let me tell you something, MEN DON’T WANT OLIVE OYL! They want
Attack of the 50 Ft. Woman
. It goes back to our genetics, girls. Google it. I hate to see ladies always worried and saying, “Do these pants make my butt look big?” God, I hope so.
Yep, you guessed it, JLH again. I just have to say—what?? God, I love this man! And where has this secret colony of butt-lovers been living? We don’t
want
to ask if our butts look big. But we thought anything over a size 0, which isn’t even a size anyway, was a no-no. Again, sorry for interrupting, tell us more!
Men don’t want sticks. I’m serious, girls. We like juicy and firm, or juicy and jiggly. Have you ever heard a man say, “HEY LOOK AT THAT ASS! IT’S SO FLAT. COOL, LET ME GET SOME OF THAT!!!!”?

NOOOOO. Stop reading magazines, ladies. It ain’t reality. Those are starved bitches who
survive on Starbucks, cigarettes, and Valtrex, and most are fourteen years old.
JLH is SO glad you just said that! As women, if we said this we would get slapped. And P.S., have you ever seen a super-skinny girl with a smile on her face? No, she’s too hungry.
Being neurotic about your backside is not sexy to men. Sexy, to men, is owning your rump roast and daring your man to try and conquer it. Sexy, to men, is your attitude, and the attitude is in your eyes—when you look at us, and we see that stare you give and you’re confident in who you are. That’s what gets us going, because we think, “Dayyum, that chick knows what she wants. I hope she picks me.” Hell,
voluptuous
has become a curse word to a lot of women. THAT’S WHAT MEN WANT!!