Sexual Misappropriation

The NY Times published an article recently about a new trend: men wearing women’s sexy lingerie. We’re not talking Tim Robbins wearing Susan Sarandon’s garter belts playing baseball in the movie Bull Durham. We’re talking full on Frederick’s of Hollywood teddies with provocative cutouts and mesh inserts. And we’re not talking just queer identity, non-binary and transvestites, although those segments are driving the bus. One company makes boxers of sheer lace that are so popular that they now have a wait list for their orders.

 

Suddenly, it seems like men are willing to do anything to get into women’s pants. And sadly not just metaphorically. “Men’s lingerie is one small part of a bigger movement,” said Francesca Muston, V.P. of a trend forecasting company. “You’ve got a whole generation… embracing the inclusivity and diversity within gender.” Well, I guess that’s one way to describe it. 

 

The trend might have begun with Spanx, but men have legitimate functional reasons to wear those. Here are some companies that are hopping on this. Leak NYC is a men’s lingerie brand that makes sexy bodysuits from fishnet and other see-through materials. They purport to have the marketing savvy to allow ample room up front. This of course has me wondering if “ample” comes in sizes, the way women’s bra cups do. Then there’s Cosabella, an Italian lingerie brand. They began selling lacy men’s briefs, semi-sheer thongs and colorful G-strings on their website last year.

Some men with more traditional tastes are also becoming enamored with the new lingerie. Steven Green, a photographer and plus-size model from Kansas City, had a gig walking the runway in the 2020 Savage x Fenty show. He claims that he never thought of lingerie for men until he worked with them. Before, he only wore briefs by Calvin Klein or Polo Ralph Lauren, but he has since expanded his undergarment wardrobe. I wonder if “expanded” means he selects styles that have “ample room up front.” I appreciate that tighty-whities can be boring but that’s no excuse for full on misappropriation.

OK. Enough about the sexual misappropriation of women’s lingerie. There are other far more serious areas where men are misappropriating issues that should be exclusively the domain of women. I’m talking about a woman’s right to control her own body.

Women are now at risk of having mostly male justices decide whether Roe v. Wade remains the law of the land. I’m not taking a position here on what decision a woman should make about continuing her own pregnancy. That’s personal and it should be private. I’m simply saying that what that decision is should be hers to make, not that of a group of men who know nothing about her. That includes the predominantly male legislators who make the laws of our states that regulate what a woman can or can’t do with her own body.

The men who believe they have a right to make those decisions for us are as guilty of sexual misappropriation as the ones who are now wearing lacey teddies and see-through thongs. If men could get pregnant, they would likely have a different opinion about a lot of these issues. If they want to appropriate parts of the birthing process, how about they start with developing birth control pills for men. (We’re still waiting for that.) Here’s a novel idea: sperm wranglers. (Like cats, but even more squirrely.) It’s one way to have men help prevent unwanted pregnancies.

Women have to live with the consequences of all these decisions, so they have the right to be the sole deciders. Until men are forced to live with similar consequences, they haven’t earned the right to be a party to those decisions, no matter how sexy they feel wearing our lingerie.

 

Copyright 2022 Business Theatre Unlimited

Perverted Pleasuring

There’s one aspect of sexual harassment that has me scratching my head. It’s all these reports about men getting their rocks off by forcing their victims to watch them get their rocks off. Surely these men don’t think women are turned on watching men “pleasure themselves.” Or if they did think this on their first outing, wouldn’t they eventually have figured out that the ladies’ facial contortions did not reflect the throes of ecstasy? After all, based on the reports, these aren’t one-off occurrences.

Obviously it’s the men who are turned on, and the logical explanation is that it’s about control; it’s a power trip. I let this notion percolate a bit. Then I asked myself: If I were a predator and wanted to force a male to watch me do something he’d find repulsive, what might that be? It didn’t take me long to come up with a list. Needless to say, none of the items involve me “pleasuring myself” sexually. That would no doubt be a turn-on for these offenders. My pleasures lie in things sufficiently abhorrent to qualify as payback.

First, I’d make him sit with me to look at chick flicks on the Hallmark romcom channel. If I were in in a really spiteful mood, I’d then turn to COZI TV and subject him to four back-to-back episodes of the original Will & Grace sitcom. In my area, that show runs from 10 pm to midnight. This seems like an ideal window for a predator to stalk prey, which means a double whammy of two hours of gay humor combined with missing out on prime opportunities for his own predation. I get a tingle just thinking about this torture.

Next, he’d have to look at me eating a huge helping of Breyers vanilla bean ice cream with dark amber maple syrup drizzled all over it. If this sounds like a turn on to some of you, you’ve never seen me dive into a container of ice cream. I don’t have the patience to wait for it to get soft. I attack it with a metal scoop. It’s not pretty. And I don’t share.

If I were feeling particularly perverse, I’d log onto my computer and force him to watch me enter data into the Excel spreadsheet I’ve set up to track what I spend each month. I get excited just thinking about spreadsheets. My columns run all the way to AF and I have close to 1000 rows already. I’d provide a running commentary while formatting breakouts within categories that can be tax deductible (at least until the Republicans pass their new tax plan) and insert subtotals. If your eyes are glazing over right now, just imagine having to sit through it.

At this point, I’d move on to a yoga session. Seeing me wrestle my yoga pants onto my rolls and love handles may not be as revolting as the sight of me excavate myself into a pair of Spanx, but what would come next would be a surefire turn off. My go-to exercise would be the Pawanmuktasana, or as I like to call it: the Breaking Wind Pose. It helps get rid of excess stomach gas. You lie on your back, arms and legs extended; draw your right knee tightly to your chest and clasp your hands around it until you break wind; straighten leg. Reverse and repeat. And repeat and repeat… You get the idea.

Finally, I’d tie him up and practice my saxophone for at least an hour. Ten minutes of this would be observing me wet my reed. While this might get him aroused at first, the next ten minutes while I try to affix that reed to the mouthpiece just so would leave him softer than the reed would be after all that sucking. The remainder of the time—when I would actually be playing—would do him in completely.

Oh, yes. I’m prepared to subject any sexual predator who crosses my path to repulsive pleasuring of my own. I guarantee it will be a long time before he can give himself a happy ending again.

Copyright 2017 Elaine M. Decker

Spousal Uses

My “Spousal Excuses” post elicited some interesting responses, not the least of which was one from my husband. Jagdish asked me to make a list of the things I’d like him to do around the house. I’ll gladly comply, and I already told him the first item on that list: Take care of the chores on it without my having to keep reminding him.

I guess he realized that my frustration has been growing geometrically since we moved into our condo. Maybe he asked for a “honey do” list so that the “ex” in the title of my previous post wouldn’t migrate over one word from “excuses” to become “ex-spousal.” To put him at ease, I decided to delete the “ex” altogether and focus this post on “Spousal Uses.” Which brings me back to the list.

A few of the tasks were no-brainers (put out the trash, wash the dishes when I’ve prepared the meal). But this provided a good opportunity to consider what else I could use help with. I immediately put him in charge of adding salt to the water softener and changing the furnace filter. These are both on about a 3-month schedule. They’re tedious work, but not physically demanding, since I’ll carry the bags of salt to the basement. (He has too many stents around his heart to lift anything that heavy.)

The prospect of actually getting help around the house was liberating. A few hours later I came up with another item with which Jagdish could be useful. First, some backstory. I don’t put on make-up every day, only when I have a meeting. Most of what I use goes around my eyes. When I’m done, I put on my glasses to look for smudges and errant strokes that need to be removed.

On this particular day, those glasses also magnified the stubble on my lower legs. Since I planned to wear a knee-length dress, I needed to shave. I’d already showered, so I decided to use the sink for the shaving. As I hiked one leg up, I almost lost my balance. (Yet another complication of shrinking 1 ½ inches in two years.) It dawned on me that here was one more use for my spouse.

I called to Jagdish that I needed his help. I had him stand behind me, steadying my hips so I didn’t fall over. “See?” I said, when I was done. “There are all sorts of things you can help with around here!”

My husband has been wedded to his computer since we left Providence. He’s become an expert buyer for his store. He reminds me of my friend Sheryl, whom we lost seven years ago. Sheryl knew where to get anything at the best price and on the best terms. She found things the old fashioned way—by phone and through networking and as she was driving around on errands. Jagdish uses modern technology. I should tap into his Internet browsing skills for our house. Note to self: Start a “to buy” list for Jagdish.

He also has a fancy (and smart) iPhone. There must be some things he can use it for that will be helpful to me, since I still have a dumb, flip phone. Perhaps there’s a lullaby app to play music that will mask his snoring. To be fair, he’s been snoring a lot less lately. Maybe it’s all that fresh air coming up from the river and drifting across the golf course.

Here’s something you probably never thought of. It came to me when I heard a comment on The View. (Yes, I’m watching that show more often now that Joy Behar is back as a co-host.) The women were discussing Spanx. Apparently some of them wear multiple layers of this popular shapewear. One of them said that Spanx cause a problem, because the fat they push in on one area of your body has to pop out somewhere else. I gave this a mental head nod. OK. I actually nodded my head vigorously.

The solution came to me in a flash. I don’t wear my Spanx very often, but the next time I do, I’m going to make sure Jagdish is handy. I’ll have him push the fat back in wherever it pops out. Of course, with the condition my body is in right now, this will be a bit like playing whack-a-mole, but a girl’s gotta try. If Jagdish can accomplish that task, he’ll never have to worry about any floating “ex” in my blog titles. I might even take over filling the water softener again.