Snow day. Light fluffy flakes, piling on the grass and houses and cars but not sidewalk or pavement.
Canceled plans to go out. It’ll be 50 degrees by midweek. No sense fighting the snow and ice on the van today.
Maybe I’ll spend the day in bed. Writing.
Men have an innate sexual response to the sight of a woman’s breast. It’s not a choice, it’s biology.
Breast-feeding is not a sexual activity. Men know this. We are Neanderthals, not idiots.
Do women understand that we do not choose to see your breasts as sexual, that it is, in fact, beyond our control? We cannot choose against biology any more than you can simply choose not to need food, water, or air.
The only breasts I want to see are my wife’s. I don’t want to see anyone else’s breasts, even if all they’re doing is feeding a baby. It’s not that I object to breasts. Quite the opposite. I like them enormously. That was a joke. I mean, I have a pretty healthy sex drive and enjoy a healthy physical relationship with my wife. Contrary to common thinking, though, seeing someone else’s breasts does not benefit my marriage in some way.
I’m not sure I understand the logical, practical argument against a woman covering herself and her baby with a light blanket while she takes care of the child’s needs.
I get that it’s an emotional issue, but I’m not here to have an emotional argument. I’ve presented a logical reason why I don’t want to see any breasts but my wife’s. Give me a logical argument why I should have to.
“Well then don’t look!” I was told. It isn’t as if we have to stare long enough to memorize a breast for it to have an effect. If I’m simply sitting in a coffee shop looking out the window, logging into Faceboob I mean book, what I see is not entirely my choice. I see what’s there. We can’t simply choose not to see what passes in front of our eyes. Please don’t make idiotic arguments.
Though we still think of ourselves as nomads, it’s time for a home, at least for a while. We’ve been renting rooms from a couple here in New Jersey. We’d like to stay in this area.
Read my Sunday Doughnut, courtesy of Bob Poole.
I am childishly pleased to be able to manage my WordPress sites using my phone.
This is the first step in aggregating all my books here instead of maintaining more and more websites, just so each book can have their own. You Don’t Want a Job will make the point that self-employment carries less risk and delivers more reward than having a job.
Here’s my first draft of the opening paragraphs:
As I tweak the Little Purple Books theme I’m using here, at Someday Box, and at Permission Granted, they don’t stay in sync. I need to address that before I roll it out to half a dozen more sites, but for now, I’m copying the changes from here to there to there.
It’s Friday the 13th. I’m more interested in blue moons.
