Men do Love a Bitch – Crossing the line from Passive to Bitch-hood

“Don’t make me go Xena on your ass bee-otch!”

Gettin’ your bitch on doesn’t need to involve bustin’ a cap in someone’s ass or hittin’ up some hot bitches. “Shit did you see Kayla last night? Dat bitch had her hood on!”

Okay, so I may not be that in-your-face-finger-snappin’ ghetto bitch, but I do reserve my inner bitch for those instances where placating and submissive postures will only get my ass kicked. And for those of us with an urban upbringing, survival tactics, attitude and a little bitchdom go a long way.

Basic Bitch 101
Let me preface this by saying that the words bitch, biyatch, and bee-otchnot to be confused with my bitch-slut, hussy, she-devil, meangirl, vixen, wench, or the “c” word, are used quite loosely in my vocabulary and never take themselves too seriously. In fact in my world they are quite complimentary. They connote: confidence, sassiness, feistiness, and a no-nonsense attitude. The bitch I’m referring to is never rude or abrasive, nor is she the classic cut-throat office bitch who is hated by her co-workers. She is a strong spirited woman who can stand up for herself. She is compassionate, has an inner strength and a presence of mind. She knows when to pull back and she doesn’t lose herself in a man. She has a certain moxie about her―sugar and spice and not always so nice. Her spice is an intriguing quality that keeps men interested. A woman who is “too nice” or too needy, will keep giving until she’s depleted.

We’ve all had those moments in time, when our inner-bitch revealed itself―maybe in a fight-or-flight response to an altercation in high school with the ‘mean girls’ (the true bitches), or maybe you embraced your inner bitch when you stood your ground or showed a strong will. I can remember a time, in dating mode, when I was perhaps a bit soft, too appeasing. Somewhat timid. You’re thinking to yourself, there is nothing timid about you bee-otch! Well, in my younger more insecure years, I was a yellow-bellied, spineless follower, trying to fit in with the coolest. I did a pretty decent job faking it, ‘cuz guys were calling me.

When I’d be interested in a guy though, fear would settle over me like a stubborn cloud, and when he’d call at the last minute and casually invite me over, did I say, “Oh hey..I’m sorry, I’m busy, but give me a bit more notice next time.”
Hah! No.
“I’ll be there in a bit,” I’d say, and I’d madly rush in and out of the shower, throw on some clothes, slather on makeup, spray a generous cloud of perfume and dash through it and out the door (I hate perfume). I’ll spare you the play-by-plays, but after many years of an on-again, off-again romance with my college buddy and love of my life (the 20’s felt like my life), feeling more often like an over accessible  needy suspecting fool, I had finally had enough. A calm came over me. I was done. Jerks, dicks, and heartless SOB’s in my life, no more! A small stubborn voice buried deep within the essence of my soul finally got some cajones and shrieked, “Fuck this! I am not taking any more shit. I’m finished. Fuck you. Fuck off and good night!

And lo and behold, the bitch was born. A holy terror on dates, matter-of-fact, and always expressing my opinionI just didn’t care. And holy shit, they started flocking. All of a sudden, things began to make sense. Men go for bitches―feisty, bold, opinionated women who spare no feelings biyatches. But why?

“No more living for you..”

The definition of unforgettably sexy, taken right from the male rulebook: A woman who can function on her own and take care of herself. She won’t let me always have the upper hand. She’s a straight shooter, and doesn’t take shit from anybody. That’s the woman I’ll work harder to be with.

The fact that men prefer strong sexy bitches should come as no surprise. Apparently according to hundreds of men polled, confident women are in very short supply, and a confident woman is the sexiest kind of woman. Is it that shocking that confident women are hard to come by? Nearly every freakin’ fashion magazine has the skinny bitches convinced that to keep their man they need to play the servant role. “Can you serve a cold beer in trashy lingerie and stilettos? Are you givin’ it up doggie-style over the kitchen counter, the tub? ‘Cuz if so, he’ll drop to one knee and propose right there.”

All women are learning from this shit is how to be needy and desperate. “Pick me, choose me, love me,” (barf..puke..tossing my salad and then my cookies) one of the sappiest Grey’s Anatomy lines ever (clearly an off day for the writers) is the most certain death of a man’s desire. Being extra nice to your man will NOT make him more devoted. Begging never works, and over-pleasing is just pathetic. When you are too worried about a man’s approval, you lose all respect.

Imagine if our roles were reversed and men cooked and cleaned for us, picked up our dirty clothes, and couldn’t wait to get married. Imagine your boyfriend getting all emotional every time you strolled past a Baby Gap, or left wedding hints around the house in post-it form. Maybe he would greet you at the door at the end of the day in nothing but an apron and cowboy boots, ready to do a chippendales replay. Add in a few ultimatums: “Where’s my ring? Why haven’t you asked me yet?” and you’d come down with a sudden case of WTF??? Then, planning a quick escape, you would spew the inevitable, “It’s not you, it’s me. I’m just not ready.” And with that, you’d blow out the door in a New York second.

Bottom line, men need a mental challenge, and like it when women have a bit of an edge to them. Men want to commit to women who exude confidence and are in control of their lives. Men prefer sassy verses sappy. They also view a bitch, as synonymous with mental challenge, a characteristic that above all, they find sexiest. A woman who is seen as particularly kind or selfless doesn’t come off as that hard-to-get. Once a guy falls in love however, his game-playing mentality melts away and he can appreciate those qualities.

But until then, go ahead. Ditch the nice girl and embrace your new and improved bitch. Go on…Don’t make me go Xena on your ass bee-otch!!

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Taboo my Ass!! In Conclusion…

Way back in the Paleolithic era, (okay, so maybe it was April, but in blog time, that’s freakin’ prehistoric) The Scarlet Dogma asked me to do a guest post, encouraging “the more taboo, the better.”  Naturally this led me first to panic (oh the pressure!), then to Xanax, and finally to the fundamental question of what, if anything, does taboo even mean nowadays? So my Sequel to my Prequel post made this same inquiry.

I figured we’d get enough comments that I wouldn’t have to do any real investigative or thoughtful work myself. Yet weirdly…not so much. So I wondered if the non-responsiveness was because readers are lazy or because who the hell has time these days! But I have since hypothesized that it’s largely because defining the forbidden has become, ironically, verboten in our free, modern and evolved society.
(Can you feel me smirking and doing air-quotes while using those adjectives? If not, go buy a subtext translator app.)

When I first began pondering this post, I’d hoped to sum it all up in a tidy little package bursting with my incredibly insightful revelations, thus confirming my shrewd cultural awareness and all-around geniusness.  But that just ain’t gonna happen, because the truth is neither simple nor revelatory.  Or maybe I’m just not all that smart (I mean, I did just use the word geniusness).  However, after reading the few comments that did make their lonely way to me―the essences of which were:

personal integrity

spicing up one’s (especially married ) sex life
the idea that every social group has their own boundaries & to cross these  is “taboo”

And finally: “I don’t have the answer, honestly.”

…followed by me drinking and procrastinating via a Vampire Diaries marathon with my best pal TiVo, what I’ve finally come down to is the last comment about not knowing. And I think that speaks for America in general. (‘Cause if this post can’t speak for America, then who the hell can, right?)

Though this has totally lightened any stain of scandal in my post, there’s a silver lining to the fact that, when asked what is taboo in today’s society―we JUST DON’T FUCKING KNOW.  Whereas in the not-too-distant-past, it would’ve been easy to get disturbingly consistent responses (sex, sex, and oh yeah―sex).  So deep within our not knowing is evidence of a sort of knowing, of a (REALLY. FUCKING. SLOW) evolution towards awareness.

So perhaps the better question is not “what is taboo,” but rather, “why is this subject so difficult?”
First of all, people are lazy and change is hard.  Which is one reason no one wants to admit that we’re fundamentally who we were back in medieval times.  Hell, in all times.  But in order to grow, we have to be honest with ourselves about who we are versus who we’d like to be—not an overnight task.

Thus, what is really our most problematic of taboos, is simply acknowledging the continued existence of taboos. We Americans, in our profoundly hypocritical culture, so desperately want to sit at the cool European kids’ table and be all laid back like the French, with their appreciation for older women, silk scarves, and laissez-faire attitude toward adultery, or those hash-smoking, prostitute-loving people in Amsterdam, that we are almost paralyzed by denial.

The number of people with sexual fetishes isn’t known because unconventional desires are often kept secret.

But it’s time to face facts.  No matter Jew, Christian, Muslim, Buddhist, Wiccan, Atheist, Blogger, most of us harbor this inner puritan like some plague that came over on the Mayflower and seeped into the soil where it has since continued to flourish.

Sure, feel free to argue with me.  But c’mon, how many of you openly discuss your sex life with your MOTHER?  Or openly discuss it AT ALL (especially while sober)? How many gay men and women must spend some time in a closet before coming out (if they come out at all)?  Like, why is there even still a closet?  Why do we still have the phrase “coming out,” implying that they’re stuck inside somewhere else, more like “hiding in.”

As for the polarizing natures of politics and religion―those are really just about the inability to tolerate the scary “other.”  Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses… as long as they feel/think/act/look just as I do.

It’s ridiculous.  It’s pathetic.  It’s depressing. It is incredibly American.  This is the twenty-fucking-first century. And THAT is the scandal…and the shame.

But our bewilderment over this topic is actually proof that we have made some nano-particle of progress (which isn’t nearly as significant as we like to think, but still). Just look at who’s sitting, or more likely pacing, in the oval office.  Like having anyone but a white guy in charge wasn’t a real taboo at one time….(like, yesterday).

In today’s America, people who have sex with call girls end up with their own CNN talk shows! Though it might be more interesting to hear them talk about said call girls rather than crime and politics…. But whatever.

Once upon a time, women couldn’t vote. Now a woman who claims she understands Russia because she thinks it’s like, her backyard neighbor, can make a legitimate run at the second highest office in our nation. Now THAT’S progress. (though incredibly humiliating, both as a woman and as an American).

Really, this is a subject we should address every decade.  Give ourselves a report card on how we’re doing CULTURALLY and psychologically, rather than judging our health by a GDP, or who we’re invading. But I fear our society’s evolution towards being truly open and free, candid with others, and more importantly with ITSELF, will be as sluggish as the shifting of the tectonic plates.

We just need to be patient. And as any good puritan can tell you, patience is a virtue. What they can’t tell you is that sex, drugs, rock n’ roll, freedoms of religion, speech, political view and sexual orientation are also pretty awesome too.

– Minka Fieldstone

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Still Hot In My Own Not-So-Young-Anymore Kind’a Way

Rockin' it in my city..

When I stumbled onto Stephanie Dolgoff’s photo in my Facebook sidebar, a girl I babysat for when I was around 12, and her 6, it prompted me to her awesome site,, a blog essentially about no longer being the chick she was for most of her life. We connected, bonded for about 17 seconds (we are New Yorkers) and discussed her blog which then, was a soon to be released book, now a New York Times bestseller. After learning that I was a single parent who had in the last year braved the whacky world of online dating, she  mentioned that her readers had often inquired about dating as a “Formerly,” and that she would love my perspective on love and sex as a Formerly. I was thrilled to say the least, not only because this woman is a real talent, and one I respect and admire, but because writing about these self-explorations were so cathartic for me. Here is the piece I did for her in the late fall. Enjoy!

Sometime after dreading the inevitable 40th birthday, I felt the onset of a strange optimism, a renewed confidence. It was just after 9/11. I remember the feeling of helplessness as I watched the tragic events of that day unfold like millions of others from a TV screen. I was living in DC, but as an ex-New Yorker, it was especially painful to not be there to help.

Those few hours would change everything for me; specifically my perspective on what really mattered in life. Time was suddenly precious. I felt as if my new life was just starting and this new outlook affected how I thought about dating. I no longer needed those barriers I had put up that suggested cynicism and insecurity. It was about approaching dating again with the same innocence and excitement of youth, and discarding as a load of crap that notion that your 40’s were considered middle age and all downhill.

What I didn’t anticipate was becoming a mother at 41–a single-mother. Finding myself pregnant with a less than ecstatic prospective father, I resigned myself to parenting alone. I took a deep breath and was thankful that age and maturity would be my guide. Somehow, I would survive as I always had, but never would I have imagined that becoming a single-mom late in life would fill a void—one that apparently eliminated my need for sex and intimacy…for seven years!

Last year, my son ordered me back into circulation with a thumbs-up. The sense of freedom to have a sexual existence again was exhilarating and empowering, as well as a bit foreign. I was 48 by then and had briefly entertained the notion that I might not be as alluring as I had once been as a Formerly Hot twenty-something. These doubts were very soon dispelled. Shortly after posting a profile on a popular online dating site, along with a few of my best photos, I was floored by the barrage of male attention and the extent to which I was pursued (much more so than in my ‘hot’ youth.)

Dating at this age was a revelation. I loved the attention, but didn’t worry about where each date would lead. I learned, among other things, that sex without love could be still be loving and passionate. I knew what I didn’t want and didn’t waste my time with those that fell short. I had always been no-nonsense (clearly my New York upbringing), but something about getting older and the realization that your prime years are limited, force you to say what you mean and what you feel, skipping the mind games altogether. Clearly that aura of confidence showed.

One of the best suprises: Sex had become infinitely better than ever before, because of experience, independence, and frankly, just not giving a damn.

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Do You Taboo??? (The Sequel to my Prequel)

Da You Taboo?

Happy Monday, folks. (Talk about an oxymoron). I’d like to turn your attention to a subject we visited a little while back:

So.  Apparently, the biggest taboo is discussing taboos! Or, to be more precise, commenting on a blog that asks its readers to reply with their idea of what is or isn’t taboo today, or what fruits they feel we’re still forbidden from eating ― if any. To see what the heck I’m talking about, see my original post Taboo my Ass! Give me the Uncensored Version right here on The Scarlet Dogma. To the few of you who commented, I extend a ginormous thanks. You’re awesome. To the rest of you who chose not to, it would have been great to hear from you. But I suppose one of the nice things about blogs is you get to observe conversations without the pressures or time loss of full participation.  And in the age of video, it’s still a pretty damn cool thing that so much reading goes on.  And I love having all of you read my post, so again,  many thanks.

Today’s post is just my last call for comments to the above-mentioned guest post which I did for The Scarlet Dogma a few weeks back, as I’m about to begin work on the follow-up post, which will address the concept of taboos in today’s society (hopefully in an entertaining way! I certainly don’t put myself forth as a philosopher or academic… thank God.  I gave all that intellectually ambitious shit up when I bailed on a Ph.D and embarked on a career in film and television instead! Cue sound f/x of parents sobbing….) Mainly, I’ll be addressing taboos in American culture, since, like… I live here.  And I don’t need to make a total ass of myself speaking for the rest of the world.  I mean, who the hell knows what passes for a taboo in France…?  Wearing the wrong Hermes scarf to the market while buying a baguette?  Possibly, but not sure. Anyway, you get it.

So please, if you have something, anything, to add to this conversation, or simply wanna chime in, please do so in the next day or two. Because after that point, I’ll have to take this ball and run with it myself, with a hearty assist from those brave few who commented earlier.

Thanks! And I wish you a non-suckish (“suckish,” my daughter’s word—btw, feel free to borrow it) Monday!

– Minka Fieldstone

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Taboo my Ass! Give me the Uncensored Version!

...Call me prudish, but I ain't touching that stuff..

And now a few words about a very taboo subject…

Dear Esteemed and Awesomely Cool Readers:
The Scarlet Dogma has honored/flattered/scared the shit out of me by allowing me to speak from her sophisticated, sexy, sassy and provocative podium. Regarding subject matter, her basic guideline was “the more taboo, the better.” So here’s my problem (or at least the most immediate one―what the hell is considered taboo these days?

In the age of reality television and this crazy inter-web deal, where EVERYTHING is on display, is anything off limits anymore? Sure, there are still the illegal things, like murder, pedophilia, incest etc. But that’s some sick shit that goes beyond taboo. Or if it falls under the taboo umbrella, I’d rather walk unprotected in the rain. So call me prudish, but I ain’t touching that stuff, and hopefully you’ll be cool with that.

Used to be back in “olden times” (as my daughter calls anything pre-1995), there were a bazillion go-to subjects if you wanted to discuss (or avoid) taboos: masturbation, adultery, alcoholism, women needing sex as much as men do, homosexuality… But today… seriously? What is considered shameful when everything is revealed, often on film or video and to millions of youtube or Oprah viewers…?

Take me, for instance. (you’d be doing my husband a favor, by the way). You know what my definition of a taboo subject is? Anything that might upset my husband, mother or children. But that could just as easily be mommy opening her big mouth and actually SPEAKING HER MIND at the PTA meeting (yet again), or bringing the crappiest cupcakes to the bake sale, as it could be “the UPS man brought mommy this thing called a vibrator.”

So before I waste the precious space that The Scarlet Dogma has so generously loaned to me, I want to hear from YOU. Yes, YOU there, who reads but says nothing in return. What is your idea of taboo in today’s tell-all culture?

I’m hoping that with enough of your thoughtful and insightful feedback, I can craft a post worthy of the woman who has opened her blog to me, as well as her devoted readers, who clearly are people possessing wit, intelligence, and above all, good taste in bloggers!

Get back to me soon, yo! This is a great topic and I want it to be the result of a dialogue, not the monologue that runs through my head….

(And ps―if I seriously get enough replies that the only taboos left are: incest, murder, pedophilia, etc… you should know that I will not shy away from dealing with that disturbing/interesting fact)

I thank you in advance….

– Minka Fieldstone

A mommy blog, a working mom blog, a parenting blog, a Hollywood-exile blog, a “how the hell did I grow up in N.Y., work in L.A. and end up in the Mid-freakin’-West” blog…which is essentially my literary attempt to make sense of this absurd, increasingly impossible and self-destructive juggling act we call life in the 21st century.

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Is There a Difference Between Being Considered ‘Attractive’ and ‘Fuckable?’

“I’ve still got it"

Last week’s post,  “It’s the Age of the Sexy MILF – Once Taboo, Now Perversely Erotic,” seemed to arouse interest, (shocking) and provoke discussion—and since I seem to be heading down the road to erotica at some point soon, I felt the topic warranted some further dialogue.

A comment I received today comes from a sassy mother of two, servant of two needy canines, wife of one, and exiled Hollywood screenwriter, who spent most of her “so-called  adult life” as she puts it, writing for TV and films in LA. As snarky and opinionated as me, I couldn’t help but connect with this ex-New Yorker. Minka and I clearly share the self-absorbed narcissistic gene, and both have a need to be heard…in more than 140 characters at a time. New Yorkers have the gift of gab, and we won’t be stifled…we just won’t damn-it!

So today, I share my virtual podium and megaphone with this sassy and talented literary maven, Minka Fieldstone, who also happens to wear the MILF badge of honor. Here is her comment:

Minka says:
April 4, 2011 at 2:54 pm

“Really well articulated, Karen! My simplest reply is that I never, for a second, took this phrase to be anything but a compliment and am in total agreement with you. Lets face it, does anyone ever really dislike being told they’re attractive? On the other hand, people who think there’s a difference between being considered “attractive” by someone, rather than “fuckable,” is in total puritanical denial. We are animals. Despite our intellectual and spiritual compulsions to be something better — or rather “more” –, this is simply not the reality.

The first time I received the honor of being called a MILF I was totally psyched. “I’ve still got it!” I thought to myself, smiling all the while. And I agree with everything you said as to why this has become somewhat of a phenomenon — having children later, staying in better shape, plastic surgery and botox, etc. But it is definitely a balancing act — not confusing being sexy with acting immature. The only thing that sometimes challenges my ability to walk that line is my daughter’s reactions to me. She’s still a tween, but very aware. And every now and then, I can tell she wishes I looked more stereotypically “maternal.” Yet at the same time, she has also voiced how proud she is that her mom is an athlete who takes good care of herself and dresses “cool.” I suppose this shows that there is still a troubling distance left to travel for women in today’s culture — the fact that my daughter has questions about a woman’s image and what is or isn’t correct or acceptable… To say she’s picking up on my inner conflict is, I think, too simple an analysis. No doubt she’s picking up a lot of her attitudes from media and others around her… Anyway, great blog. Thanks!”

Karen says:
April 4, 2011 at 6:02 pm

Two birds of a feather…Must be a bit of the “How the hell did I grow up in NY, and end up freakin’ here” syndrome. Although in lieu of screenwriting in Hollywood, I opted to perfect my calf roping in Colorado. Either way, here we are, me in suburbia, you living dangerously close to the Ohio state line. Both of us trying to making sense of the absurdity of our lives with literary humor, occasional rants, and in my case a lot of long-winded gibberish.
Loved your must have been stifling the “snarky and wittily articulated scorn” for your own blog..regardless, I’m glad you had something to contribute. It was appropriate given the slew of acronyms I’d been recently exposed to writing some erotica for phone sex blogs. Yes, my Jewish mother would be ‘kvelling.’

Being a “hot” single mom, (not to be confused or compared to the likes of Hollywood goddesses), and knowing you still “have it,” is an awesome feeling (when the hormones aren’t kicking my hot ass) I’ve always been a sensual person, and my recent entry into the online dating world after a long hiatus, was proof that the hotness factor is so much more about sex appeal than standard good looks. In my case, “fuckability” has had more to do with a certain air of confidence, my embracing my midlife sexuality, and my focus not being so much about the future as living in the moment. My expressions seem to exude it all…the lust, the erotic urges, that reptilian need to feel good and to stimulate ourselves. It’s that hunger to regress to an animalistic and primal state that makes us even more “fuckable,” especially as a mom. Add on the maternal factor, the devotion, the sacrifices and  instincts to protect your cubs at all costs and “hot damn,” as they say here in W. Virginia!

I think your daughter is lucky to have a mom that is not repressed and can teach her to embrace all that she is, eliminating her desperation to fit into an unrealistic mold. It’s a good thing you’re not in LA anymore. If she sees her own mom being perceived as hot, “even at “her age,”she’ll embrace age, her sexuality and that fabulous journey of a woman’s life. I say, wear that milfdom with honor and milk that “fuckability” as long as you can!

Minka, you rock…Love your blog! Keep on reading!

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It’s the Age of the Hot, Sexy MILF – Once Taboo, Now Perversely Erotic

An image exuding an eroticism suggests that motherhood is not the death of her desirability.

We live in a glorious era in which motherhood has become synonymous with audacious, adventurous, confident and perversely seductive. It’s the age of the MILF, or to put more crudely, Mom I’d Like to Fuck—an acronym both repulsive and appealing. Repulsive particularly to our Matriarchal feminists of the 70′s, who would view ‘MILFdom’ not as a solution, but rather a self-destructive form of female-chauvinist piggery. (heard that term somewhere and it stuck)

Are moms so afraid of seeming past their prime that they accept objectification as a compliment?

Yes, that would have been a mild version of what we would have heard from our militant sisters back then, when competition over sex and beauty among women was taboo and to be outlawed. Outlawed! No wonder these feminists were so damned rigid about sex! The easy access women had to one another’s bodies was a natural solution to their anti-male agenda. A woman lying down with another woman, and the world doesn’t bat an eye.

So how did a once taboo erotic fetish become this widespread?  Why the colossal fascination with the hot mom, and why now?

Maybe it has to do with women’s conceiving later in life, and being more resistant to surrendering a sexuality they’ve spent decades building. Or, it could be that for ages women have been drawn towards the forbidden―ie: bad boys, the ultimate seducers.  It could also be a looks thing, given that women—with the aid of Pilates, botox and nip/tuck, can turn back time to a sometimes alarming degree (ie: Joan Rivers.)

The evidence surrounds us, with MILF branding and tees, to the plethora of new hot housewife driven reality shows. We can also thank Demi and Madonna whose “cougar” relationships have played out most notably in the tabloids. While Demi has worked relentlessly to earn her the MILF honor, women like Dina Lohan have failed miserably. Clearly not all MILFs are created equal. Demi seems to understand that the allure of the MILF lies between appearing both maternal and doable, like Madonna.

Dina Lohan, on the other hand, seems to have missed the mark completely―constantly pictured clubbing with Lindsay, sipping champagne, living off her daughter, and bragging to the media that she is more of a sister than a mom. Over-tanned and under-concerned about your daughter’s welfare and rehab, sorry to say Dina, makes you very un-hot. You, are not a true MILF.

The twisted genius of this MILF culture, where blatant objectification is passed off as a compliment, has left us a bit conflicted. As modern sensual women, we’re torn by two fears: that having children will make us unsexy, and that trying to stay sexy will make us look ridiculous like…well..Dina Lohan. There’s the exhausting pressure of wanting to have it all, be desirable during pregnancy and the race to snap your body back into shape (everywhere…where it counts) so that you can look forward to earth shattering sex…Hello, kegel! Then of course there’s that small detail of resurrecting your libido in between breastfeeding and diaper changing.

Is MILF an insult or a compliment? Personally I can’t think of any context where it wouldn’t be a compliment. I’d say it’s a crude compliment, something like “Your daughter is a really attractive girl- great figure” meaning pretty much the same as “Your daughter has a great set of tits and a fantastic ass” and the latter, although crass and more to the point, would probably get a different reaction. It’s an observation that although you’re of an age to have had children, or even grandchildren, you’re still a damn sexy woman that your typical hot-blooded straight male would love to get naked with…and for most, it’s even a little more straightforward than that.

But in the end, we are suckers for the MILF. There is something captivating about a mom taking back the negligee, an image exuding an eroticism that suggests that motherhood is not the death of her desirability. Besides, the MILF fantasy unveils a whole slew of scenarios, role plays and seduction that are the ultimate for every man, young and old, married and single.

Get rid of your inhibitions and engage in a little role-playing in your marriage, and I guarantee you’ll add a little spice and everything nice…

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Enough with the Broken Heart Woes – So you got Dumped. Get Over it!

“Buh-bye now…buh-bye..”

We’ve all done it at some point―frantically search google for some profound wisdom or poetry on “soothing broken hearts” or “rebounding from the depths of hell after being dumped.” We are desperate for anything that will bring us solace and ease our pain as we recover from that sucker-punch to the gut.

Chances are, you were ambushed, like a deer in headlights, with nothing more than a mere “Sorry, this isn’t working,” or “It’s not you, it’s me,” leaving you in a state of shock as you stare into a text or post-it. Depleted of oxygen and gasping for breath, the loss and rejection sink in leaving you completely devastated. You wonder whether life will go on… (enter Gloria Gaynor singing “I will survive“)

Here’s what you need to know first and foremost.

You are NOT alone. You are NOT being singled out by the fates to suffer. There’s nothing wrong with you. You simply got dumped. Supermodels get dumped. Celebrities get dumped. The most beautiful people in the world get dumped. You just happened to be on the receiving end this time, so get over it and move on. Whoever dumped you has had his own share of heartache, and with any luck, karma will come back to bite him in the ass! Remember, this is one person’s opinion. That’s it.

The good news―this is as bad as it gets. Okay, I’m lying. It gets a bit worse, but it’s up to you to take the first step, and the right one.

You’ve got two choices. You can accept that you’ve been dumped and let it be, let it be; or if you’re interested in marinating in your delusional state a bit longer, you can confront him head-on, and convince the fucker to undump you. Perhaps he lacks insight and self-awareness and needs you to enlighten him. Clearly you know this person better than he knows himself, right?

Really? Do you really want to be with someone, knowing you had to hold a gun to their head to persuade them to stay? These pathetic strategies will only reinforce the fact that you’re crazy and desperate and would likely shoot yourself in the stomach on his front stoop if you thought it might get him to pay you some attention!

Stop embarrassing yourself, and learn how to get over rejection. It’s just a part of life, like getting fired or losing a good friend. The trick is to see rejection as not a big thing, but to get used to it, to expect it, deal with it and become greater in spite of it.

No, there’s nothing good about being dumped or ignored at a party. Rejection is rejection, but on a personal level it feels worse because we all need to be loved, and when someone withdraws that love, we feel tossed aside like a bag a’ bones, an old rag, a torn sock and a myriad of other metaphors. We feel abandoned, lost and grief-stricken. One minute you’re going down one road together, and the next, you’re alone and heading for a curve you can’t see beyond. Of course it hurts. It hurts like hell, but this is just one emotional scraping that will heal beautifully, if not picked.

So you got dumped. While knowing the reason why he broke up with you might be nice (if you’re looking to torture yourself), it really doesn’t matter in the larger scheme of things. Over the course of your life on this planet, this relationship will be nothing more than a short blip; a road-side stop for sex along the highway to happiness.

So get on with your life. Yes, we know you really loved him. It was special. He told you he loved you. Got it. We’ve all been there, and our lives are so much better since we’ve moved on.

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Preserving the Good name of Premarital Sex

Feel like a sex goddess…

While teen pregnancy is a credible issue that needs addressing, these overzealous abstinence-only teachings have not only defamed the good name of premarital sex, but done so at the expense of tarnishing the good characters of those girls who are having sex…and we’re in the majority!

I mean really. How rude is that!

Here’s a reality check for you:  Nine out of 10 Americans have had sex prior to marriage―including  Grandma. Yep, even Grandma  was rockin’ it back then, as were most women born in the 40’s; and I’m sure if asked, she’d have one or two things to say about the best places to meet men, masturbation, sex back in the day, and porn addiction.

Hmm, well that certainly challenges perceptions that women were more celibate in the past. Not that this should come as any surprise. Of course women born in the ’40’s had a lot of sex. They were the products of the ‘free love’ decade―and presumably, if people were having free love in the 60’s, they were born around the ’40’s.

But it doesn’t help us one bit (you know, us girls having sex), that despite these studies examining how sexual behavior before marriage has changed over time, there are still those conservative overzealous folks who propose that any sex before marriage is suspect―that this sick perversion to fornicate premaritally that we have manifested as a nation, is blasphemous and we’re all going to hell.

Well, I’m here to tell you, think again. There are plenty of honorable reasons for engaging in premarital sex, especially in this day and age.

The consummation of marriage is sacred, is it not? You’ve met the right guy, and you want your wedding night to be special. Well, there’s nothing special about unsophisticated and clumsy sex. Wouldn’t it be better to trip and fumble over past boyfriends and flings in order to gain that finesse, so that on your wedding night, you can impress your loved one and honor that union with sex that is the Sistine Chapel?

After all, if sex is meant to be an expression of true love, then it should be artful, should it not…and one must hone his craft to perfect his art―just sayin’.

Maybe you were one of those squeamish souls when it came to sex and the anatomy? Then go out and get some premarital sexual training, so that when you enter that committed relationship, the sight of a penis doesn’t make you cringe and prompt a house call from Dr. Ruth.

Your body is a treasure, one that should be saved for your husband. Well, yes…it should be; but the best way to preserve that treasure is not to lock it up and throw away the key. Instead, why not invest in your future, by building on your principle and gaining invaluable sexual skills―ones that will give you both a maximum return on your intimacy investment for years to come. He’ll thank you for it.

Take him or her for a test drive.

Take him or her for a test drive. You wouldn’t buy a car without test-driving it, and you wouldn’t hire a chef to cook for you if you hadn’t tasted what he’s prepared.  Chemistry is crucial to a marriage and a big part of that chemistry is in the bedroom. If two people aren’t satisfied sexually, there’s a good chance that one of you will stray to get your needs met.

First time sex is painful. Lots of foreplay and lubricant can relax a nervous female virgin and make intercourse easier, less painful, and certainly less traumatic. But wouldn’t it just be easier to have had some practice? And the idea that bigger is better is far from the truth when it comes to first-time sex with a well-endowed man. It can be downright… yikes! Enough said. Remember girls, we are fragile little flowers (settle down ye feminists), and this is your wedding night, so don’t get hurt! Explore, and ease into it so that when “the one” comes along, it is not only enjoyable but takes you both where no man has gone before.

Feel like a sex goddess… Nothing is more of an ego boost than hearing your partner praise your  performance in bed or express how turned on he was by that little thing you did to make him feel good…”Wow baby, where’d you learn how to do that!” You’ll be thinking, “Damn I’m good!”

Having multiple partners prior to being committed can be a great sexual exploration and learning experience to pick up and hone these sexual talents. Yes, I am a big proponent of premarital sex, but I am also completely in support of long faithful relationships―at whatever stage in a woman’s life, because they do provide such a fine sexual practice arena.

So, in the good name of premarital sex, those of you who chose to ‘give it away’ for honorable reasons, I salute you in the name of true love. Heaven’s gate awaits you.

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Has Chivalry ‘Checked Out’ or Still in Hibernation?

"... a period that seems both long ago and just yesterday..."

It was the late 70’s when I started dating, a period that seems both long ago and just yesterday. It was the mark of distinction to show some chivalrous behavior, even if it was a front put on for my parent’s benefit. Being put on full display meant that my date had to behave himself―keep his hands where they could be seen, help me with my coat and hold the door open. Our date would inevitably end with a kiss, which always seemed the most nerve wracking part of the date…not so much the kiss, as the occasional slip of the tongue! Yuck!

By college, I was a serial monogamist and had already done the dating circuit. I probably had more different dates in high school than afterward. Having experienced several long faithful relationships, here is what I observed. During the early stages of the relationship―the dating phase, chivalry would take center stage, if only long enough to reel me in; but after the thrill of the chase was over, chivalry became just another word, and a lost art.

The days of men who boldly and without remorse did things intended to protect and defend the honor of a woman, are long gone. Chivalry appears to have ‘checked out.’ Nowadays, the fear of committing politically incorrect acts and the backlash of militant feminists, has scared them into hibernation―or so the masculists claim.

Are all women now indoctrinated with the anti-male feminist agenda? Are we lumped into a scary bunch of ball-busting, man-hating feminists campaigning for their demise? If so, then chivalry may in fact be dead. Who knew that Gloria Steinem and Billie Jean King would single-handedly neuter a gender!

There will always be those that believe that the slightest acts of chivalry, belittle and degrade women―but they are the minority and possibly part of the Steinem family tree.

...damned bunch of ball-busting, man-hating feminists!

I don’t know whether women gave up on chivalry or men gave up on themselves. But what I can tell you, is that I speak for the majority of women when I say, that we miss you and that lost treasure buried somewhere deep in the sea of humanity. That chivalry.

Will it make a comeback or has it checked out for good?

I hope it will, because smart girls deserve better; and I would hate to think that because of that minority of ‘indoctrinated’ women, men have lost their cajones.

So please, get over your gun-shyness and come out of the cave. You’re looking a little pale.

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Palin Preaching Abstinence – Pause before you Play or Pause (to pray) before you Play?

Do as I say, not as I do..

While abstinence campaigns that denounce pre-marital sex, may boost the morale of those teenagers practicing abstinence, or stimulate virgins to take that oath of celibacy, they make a mockery of their message by using spokespeople like America’s most famous teenage mother, Bristol Palin, and The Jersey Shores The Situation.  A girl who let her hockey playing fame-junkie moose-shootin’ boyfriend knock her up when she was only 16, and  a guy that’s whored around with half the drunken barflies in the Garden State are probably not the most compelling subjects to convince American teens to keep their pants on.

In her series of PSAs, the catch phrase is “pause before you play,” which albeit ambiguous, was obviously something Bristol didn’t do when she let herself get knocked up in high school. In her first PSA in April, the message is clear. Unless you come from a rich and famous family, or your mom is Sarah Palin, “don’t have sex as a teen.  Don’t be a teen mom, because I have opportunities that you, average teenager will never have. So if YOU get knocked up, you will be alone in a room, in dowdy tee, with soiled couch, carpet, diapers  and an unstoppable crying baby…so just don’t do it!”

Now, while it’s great to encourage teens to be safe and “pause before you play,” she avoided every issue that needed addressing when encouraging teens to be safe:
» She could  have talked about why she thinks teens should wait to have sex.

» She could have stressed the importance of communication between teens and their partners―setting guidelines and expectations around sex and how far to go.

» She could have talked about *gasp* contraception, and the importance of practicing safe sex.

Her more recent abstinence PSA with “The Situation” is really pathetic, turning what should be a credible message, the prevention of teen pregnancy, into what appears to be a video spoof and completely laughable. It was filmed during Bristol’s time on Dancing with the Stars back in November and I found it uncomfortably awkward to say the least.

The first problem with this video, (aside from the fact that she’s stiff, disingenuous and she’s got the acting ability of a limp noodle), is that she has no credibility. Not only did she fail at abstinence, but she’s profited immensely from her teen pregnancy, beginning with her famous mom’s  2008 presidential campaign. Poor Tripp was passed around and showcased like the jubilant father from Roots, holding his infant, Kunta Kinte up to the sky in a baby blessing ritual. “Behold, the only thing greater than yourself…baby Tripp” (who will undoubtedly need years of therapy for all this talk about how conceiving him was a mistake.)

She continues this money sweep through her run on Dancing With the Stars, and spreading her abstinence message with The Candie’s Foundation, and at other speaking engagements.  This is a young woman (if that) who has NOT been forced to sacrifice and suffer like a normal, average teenage single mother. As for the Situation—this is a guy who gets paid to mount multiple slutty, drunken Jersey girls in a hot tub each week…need I say more?

Another problem with this PSA is this vague catch phrase, “pause before you play,” which they don’t really explain. Does it mean, “Pause to put on a condom,” “Pause to take your birth control pill,” either of which would be the intelligent choice.  So what the hell does it mean?

My money’s on “Pause for a moment of contemplative prayer to ask the Heavenly Father to steer those nasty sperm away from your fertile womb. Then screw to your little heart’s desire.

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The Female Animal: Uncovering the Mystery of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood

Here's to the fabulous sexual creatures we are today..Ya-Ya!

Women rule the world. Okay, maybe I’m biased, but they do. Just look at them—raising us, feeding us, bathing us, nurturing us; hardwired to reassure and bolster each other against disappointment and confusion. Evolving from decade to decade with more confidence and insight than ever before, the female animal is a mystery indeed. They are complex creatures, their brains an intricate weave of thoughts and emotions with more than a few twists and turns. To understand the inner workings of the female mind…on second thought, don’t bother, unless you can decipher code and are telepathic.

At an early age, we get a glimpse into this sisterhood, when we migrate to one best girlfriend, one that we tell all our secrets to, play dress-up with, giggle with, and swear on our Barbie’s grave that we will never steal each other’s boyfriend…even if we are only 10.

As we move into adolescence, most of us have hit puberty, with hormones shifting, breasts growing, and sex drive emerging. It’s all about peer pressure and social acceptance, and with that comes a more competitive and combative stage. Whereas men prefer the outward way of fighting it out and beating each other to a bloody pulp, we unleash our alpha bitch soup; that passive-aggressive mix of catty, backstabbing, manipulative and conniving—not our most charming side.

Since theoretically, girls are not allowed to express their anger openly, our best alternative is to vent behind the scenes, with secret whispering and sideway leers. With women, it’s more of a game of chess, rather than a football game of groping and crotch-grabbing.

As we become young adults and grapple with life’s social pressures, we take comfort in having a close group of friends that we can share with—more importantly vent with. Since our bodies are hardwired to feel good when we nurture each other, it seems only fitting that over the next decade or so, we show an unbridled capacity to sit in countless coffee shops with our girlfriends on countless nights, drinking endless cups of coffee, or wine, discussing men and how fucked up they are—debating and dissecting what it means when they say “I’ll call you.” We reassure each other valiantly that it’s the men that are at fault, and that there’s absolutely nothing wrong with us.

No sooner are we reassured, than we become desperate to find a boyfriend, convince ourselves that our lives are empty without one, seek the wrong someone out, and trigger a domino effect of shame and self loathing. That pesky fear of being alone would gnaw at you, drawing out all sorts of jealous resentment of anyone who was in a relationship. Ah yes…the green-eyed monster. That jealousy was far from an abnormality for us. It was an inherent part of our nature—an evolutionary drive, just like our reptilian need for sex or chocolate. That jealous rage could come cascading to our brains at the drop of a coin, or at the shift of a hormone.

Does Lorena Bobbitt ring a bell? In her defense, she did allegedly suffer years of physical, sexual and emotional abuse. Was the woman a fucking nutcase, or was attacking his manhood a sort of poetic justice? Frankly I wouldn’t have the balls, no pun intended…but I digress…

The twenties for me were far from magical. Insecurities, rejection, break-ups…Who needed it! I was ready to move on. Eventually you would either cross that line from passive female to bitchhood, refusing to take any more shit from men (which thankfully I did); or you would end up wallowing and muttering under a blanket of M&M’s for eternity.

Now that we’re older, wiser and mellower (translation, less bitchy), we are more apt to warm up to other attractive women and less likely to see them as rivals. We have mastered the art of no-nonsense, learned the art of seduction and become more adventurous in spirit. We go from needing a mate to wanting someone to share our lives with, someone with whom we can enjoy a fabulous feast of midlife sexuality. Although cattiness is more a thing of the past, we just can’t resist that little jab when the situation calls for it.

Nothing gives a woman more pleasure than sticking it to their exes; the rush of knowing your ex just caught a glimpse of you looking hotter than ever, particularly when the woman he left you for pales in comparison…or the smug satisfaction we get when we run into a tormentor from our past, who happens to be going through a break-up, knowing we have a boyfriend, (especially a hot sex big package boyfriend;)…. karma? Maybe, but this kind of empowerment, as petty as it seems, has helped drag us from the drudgery of our past, liberate us with confidence and allow us to adapt and evolve into the fabulous sexual creatures we are today…So, Ya-Ya to us!

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Mother Nature: The Wrath of a Diva

Mother Nature showing off..

First let me just say, that the natural beauty created by Mother Nature is as miraculous as it is awesome. Yet in all her splendor, she can be unpredictable, childish, impetuous, weird and destructive. (sounds a bit psychotic to me, or at the minimum bi-polar) So what is it that makes this serene goddess of natural beauty inflict her wrath upon us, like an immature whiny vindictive bitch? Have we done something to piss her off again? Has God become so overwhelmed with our bad behavior, that he/she has taken on a partner to lessen the load? Yes…that must be it.

The wrath of Mother Nature effects all of us deeply; disrupting our plans, leaving us stranded, destroying our things (now that’s just spiteful) and pushing us closer to the edge of insanity with every snow day (if you have small children.) Why? Because she’s a Diva, that’s why. It’s just her way of telling us capriciously, that she’s bigger, badder, and grander than all of us and our pitiful little forecasts…Sounds like insecurity to me.

So how did she become the self-involved goddess she is; and how is it she gets to play the PMS card every time? Why aren’t we standing up to her and taking action—forcing her resignation…impeaching her? Geez, at the very least revoking her weather license!

“..That’s the thing about Mother Nature, she really doesn’t care what economic bracket you’re in…”  -Whoopi

Because Mother Nature doesn’t stop for anyone or anything. Whether you’re in awe or indifferent, you’re just as likely to be graced with a cool gentle breeze on a warm day as you are thrashed by unparalleled forces of devastation. She’s got you by the balls, like it or not. Despite my whining, the awesome power of Mother Nature deserves respect—she is one badass! We can only hope this is a phase and that these tantrums will pass.

In the meantime, if this goddess of nature needs to be praised, revered, and her ego stroked a bit, I’ll reduce myself, because I know first hand that “hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.”

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Bringing you to the Heart of my City – New York

"These streets will make you feel brand new, the lights will inspire you..Let's hear it for New York"

The “Scarlet Starlet’s News” is a tell-all, bringing you to the heart of my city, the Big Apple; an ex-New Yorker sharing some of my city savvy, dogma to live by when visiting NYC, and my personal list of “must sees” for all my sassy sistas and brothers when you venture into the Big Apple. For the sass with class, the urban romantic, the shabby chic or not so chic,  the fashionably or unfashionably poor, the fashionista, or if you’re simply a first-time visitor, there will be plenty to choose from and something for everyone.

With over 20,000 restaurants, endless number of bars and clubs, boutiques, concert halls, and Broadway theaters, etc., you couldn’t cover in a lifetime, the infinite amount of places New York has to offer, even if you tried. So if you’re planning a short visit and you have something in mind, ask away. Leave your comments below and let me know what you’re  interested in— ie: casual cafes, cool bars & restaurants, breakfast eats, night clubs, ethnic food, sushi, trendy areas, culture..and the list goes on. Until then, I’ll be calling ’em as I see ’em..

So with each visit to NY, I will pray for an uneventful and smooth commute through the Lincoln Tunnel  into the city. I will pray that I didn’t pick a busy time of day to arrive (which is almost all the time), and I will pray that the day I decided to drive in, won’t be the same day that a foreign dignitary, head-of-state, or the President will be making an appearance at the UN—because any one of those is likely to drive me to mental mayhem.

In the meantime, I will thicken up the coating of teflon, get my poker face on, and take the wardrobe up a notch so that I may properly blend with my people. It should come as no surprise, then, that I will be listing places that are not only worth checking out, but places that only a jaded New Yorker would be seen…unless of course you prefer to mingle with the tourists..

Check back soon! I will be posting very soon about my visit this past summer—best visit yet!

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Sassy Single Mamas Don’t Mess Around..

So, what’s with the name “The Scarlet Dogma,” you ask? Would that be a take on, “The Scarlet…

Correctomundo!…a slight take on “The Scarlet Letter,” bringing some attention to that sexy branding we single mamas are given, (the harlots, Jezebels and fallen women we are…NOT!) Clearly we have a long way to go in de-stigmatizing single-parent families and becoming more progressive in our way of thinking, (no thanks to narrow minded statements from the likes of big bad Bill O’Reilly)… But that’s another story, personal strife, and mini tirade that warrants it’s own billboard, or post…I’ll get to that!

First, let’s hear it for the sassy, smart and sane single mamas and papas who raise their kids to know God, be kind, love and respect. They work twice as hard and don’t get nearly the respect they deserve considering the obstacles in their life, shouldering the burden alone.

So this section will be devoted to them, and their stories about how moxie, ballsiness, cajones, chutzpah and fortitude allowed them to overcome in the face of adversity. Not only can we learn from them, but with their humor and wit, we want to laugh with them..

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Dishin’ out Sass!

Ballsy women rock! So this is for all you smart, sane, sassy women, who mean what you say and say what you mean. This section is devoted to you and your memorable episodes or short stories that warranted shifting your sassy self into high gear. I’m sure it’s worth hearing about, so please…SHARE!

For all you edgy, sassy men, this goes for you too..feisty is feisty..(it just looks cuter on us, cuz’ we’ve got nicer legs…)

Give me a few words (no more than 250) about your sassy episode. At your best..or worst. How did it make you feel? Did it empower you..letting ‘er rip? Did you kick butt in style? (metaphorically, of course) Or did that mouth of yours come back to bite you in the ass? Mine’s still sore…

Any short stories, whether, honest, humorous, or self deprecating, I want to hear them! The sassier, the better, so dig deep!

I’ll be adding a “SUBMIT” button, so bear with me or message me at Facebook at in the meantime.

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The Scarlet Dogma

WELCOME! Glad you’re here! So what’s all the fuss about?
Well, aside from seeking catharsis, I created The Scarlet Dogma, as a venue to write and reflect on the irony and absurdity of life—my life, and how when you look back, you can find  humor in just about anything, including death (my own issues.) This blog is meant to be a compilation of musings, rantings, inspirational thoughts and occasional delirious nonsense when the clutter in my head creates blockage.

The Scarlet Dogma is a blog reflecting this outspoken redhead’s spirited dogma—my take on life’s experiences thus far; as an ex-New Yorker and fortuitous badass now living in Amish country, and as a single-parent in her forties (now fifty-four), blindfolded and thrown into that virtual playground we know as online dating, and of course there’s the bantering unreserved and impetuous smart ass…my soothing antidote to this absurd world we live in.

Aside from my spewing of thoughts, epiphanies and aha moments, any occasional rantings or mini tirades will be ruled by the Goddess of estrogen. On the average day however, my brain fog will be sure to seek out something deliciously provoking! So enjoy and please contribute!

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