In response to our Divas posts the other day, we have Acidman's take on things. We are not brilliant babes, it seems, but rather power-mad whores and if we'd only admit it, he'd be pleased.

Just a brief teaser to tempt you with:

{...}Not a single woman admitted that sex is a WEAPON that she uses to get her way. NOT ONE was honest enough to admit that simple fact.{...}

(I won't reprint any more of this stuff here, because, quite frankly, the language is beyond even my tolerance for such things. Which, as we all know, is pretty high.)

Go read, my devoted Cake Eater Readers, and be enlightened.

UPDATE: Phin tried to keep quiet, but couldn't.

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Yesterday's topic apparently interested some people to add their two cents.

Pammy over at Lollygaggin', one of our much beloved Red Hat Divas, has written an excellent essay on the topic. Go read.

TeaFizz has their own take as well.

WitNit has a some very kind things to say about us. We thank thee.

Finally, Dax has given us our topic for next week, and we're all looking forward to tackling it.

I will end this post with a final plea for questions for DIVAS SEZ. Hit the Demystifying Divas button over on the right sidebar and it will magically take you to our mailbox, which I fully expect you to fill with questions for the brilliant Sadie to answer. Questions need to be in no later than Thursday evening so Sadie has some time to get the gray matter a workin'.

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We have another juicy Demystifying Diva topic for you this fine Tuesday: Do men respect a woman who goes to bed with them too quickly?

At a guess, I would have to say, no, they don't.

I have a lot of reasons for holding this view. First, I've seen how men treat women the morning after. They slink out in the morning, uttering promises of "I'll call you," and then they disappear, sliding off the end of the earth, never to be heard from again. Ironically enough, however, these men never have an issue with turning away what's offered them. This goes back, of course, to the whole "madonna/whore" complex that men are soooo enraptured of, in essence saying to the world, we like women who go to bed with us and who make it easy for us by going quickly, but we'll never have anything to do with them because what they just did disqualified them for wifedom and motherhood.. Of course, none of this mattters if you're Samantha Jones: she doesn't give a flying fuck what anyone thinks of her, let alone the men she partners with. But most of us aren't Samantha Jones. We women are, perhaps, sometimes too eager to please, hence we make mistakes in the meantime, not fully understanding the nature of the male beast.

Which brings me to my second point about men not respecting women who jump into the sack too quickly: men are all about the chase. Hence the label "easy" is attached to a woman who gives it up too quickly. "Easy," in this situation is a loaded connotation, but at it's base level, it means, well, easy. It wasn't a hard thing to achieve, hence they don't have respect for a person who made it easy for them. No matter how much men whine about some woman leading them around by the nose and "playing hard to get," it's been my experience that they really do love it. They enjoy it because they're all about the chase.

Of course, the chase does, at times, gets boring. They want to settle down. They want to raise a family. Yet, when they do get around to this, the most likely candidate for the job will be someone who has led them on that merry chase. They will have earned her. They will have fought the battle and, after much blood has been spilled and many entrails have been gutted, they will declare victory---and the victory wouldn't be nearly as sweet if it was easy.

In conclusion, respect, as it is so often said, must be earned. If a woman wants to be respected by men, she will earn said respect by keeping her knees locked and scooting into her house after the good-night kiss. "Earning" whatever you want to earn is not something that one generally achieved overnight. It takes time to earn a paycheck. Why should earning respect be any different? It's all about what you value, and if you value respect, you will earn it, because at the same time you're learning if you can respect the object of your affection.

Because, after all, you wouldn't want him to be too easy, would you?

Now, go and read what the other Delightful Demystifying Divas have written on the same topic.

For the male perspective, you will want to go and read what Athos and Aramis have to say. Porthos and D'Artangan were out drinking and wenching last night, so when they've cleared themselves of their hangovers, I'll update.

There was something else...what was it? Oh, that's right! WE NEED QUESTIONS! Our beloved Sadie will be answering questions for Divassez on Friday. Fill up the inbox---you can clickie on the Demystifying Divas button on the right to get the address. (And don't look at me---the husband is responsible for that one! Must become more technologically adept. Must become more technologically adept.)

UPDATE: Porthos and D'Artangnan, saucy little French souls that they are, have recovered from their hangovers and have chimed in.

Posted by: Kathy at 10:01 AM | Comments (4) | Add Comment
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1 "Porthos and D'Artangan were out drinking and wenching last night" I knew there was something I was forgetting. I was gonna write a first hand perspective, but my wife shot that idea down.

Posted by: phin at March 29, 2005 10:44 AM (Xvpen)

2 "Out drinking"....heheheheee. Another thumb on the pulse commentary. Respect IS earned. Damn straight! ; )

Posted by: Christina at March 29, 2005 10:49 AM (zJsUT)

3 Yeah baby. What does it take to earn a paycheck at a respectable job*? A month? Sounds like a decent rule of thumb...wait a paycheck or two. Instant gratification is just that. Instant. Excellent perspective, Kathy. *When I get a respectable job, I'll report back.

Posted by: sadie at March 29, 2005 03:24 PM (4CLu3)

4 Perfectly said hun, you are on the ball with these posts! Porthos is the wench hun, trust me

Posted by: silk at March 29, 2005 03:35 PM (3xvPF)

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The Wizard, on behalf of the The Men's Club, has posted the Official Male Response (TM).

My only comment: I adore purple highlights.

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It's Tuesday, so of course it's Demystifying Diva Day. The topic we magnificent divas are tackling this week is flirtation do's and dont's....for men. After all, we lassies are all about demystifying things for you lads. It seems the least we can do is to tackle the hard topics ala Dan Rather. In other words, you'll find yourself somewhat informed, if you can successfully navigate the frog gigging references.

Now, personally, I enjoy flirtation. Always have. It's easy for me because I am a natural born flirt. Mom drank something when she was preggers with me and it's affected my behavior in this respect ever since. Honestly, I couldn't shut the damn gene off if I tried. But, honestly, who wants to shut off the flirty gene? Where's the fun in that? Anyway, because I'm good at this, I've noticed where certain men tend to fail in their effort to be good little flirts. In case you hadn't noticed, flirting is about sending off signals and, on the other end of things, learning how to read said signals properly. As such, these are my observations.

• First off, groom yourselves, darlings. {Insert Edna Mode voice here} Mediocrity is everywhere, darlings. You want to be a god? Well, notice that Zeus takes a bath and shaves on a daily basis. He also uses a good moisturizer and brushes his teeth. He also does something with the ear and nose hair, too, but I can't be bothered to tell you what. Because it's just gross. Oh, and Product! Product is good as well so you hair doesn't stick up at all ends. But in the end, darlings, it's all about the clothes. Don't dress like a hobo or the object of your affection will treat you like one. {/Edna voice} Seriously, lads. Take care of this sort of thing and you won't be wondering if it was you that turned her off, or if it was the dreaded something else.
• Look me in the eyes, darling. Don't look at my tits or my ass. I don't mind a little surreptitious gazing because, after all, I do want to know if you're gay or not. But don't stand there, blatantly gazing at my breasts, like I'm a New York Strip and you're a pitbull, wondering best how to tackle the problem at hand. It's not likely to get you anywhere.
• You're not in college anymore, so don't tell me I'm wearing a great shirt, but that it would look even better on your floor. Don't ask me how I like my eggs in the morning, because I'm likely to come back with the word, "UNFERTILIZED!" You're not in Kansas anymore. Leave the corn at home.
• Touch. Touch is good. A delicate finger along my hand is good. A hand that hovers in midair around my breasts, then actually reaches hesitantly for the nipples---in a public place---is not. Remember most women like to be thought of as nice. We do not like it when men do not think of us this way.
• Open your mouth and speak. Let the words ring forth. Women can understand nervousness. We can understand the hesitancy to make an ass out of yourself. What we cannot abide is someone who sends soulful glares from across the room for hours on end and then does nothing about it. Bleh. If you're worried about coming up with small talk, allow me to let you in on a little trick: ask questions. Then follow those questions up with other questions. The key to doing this successfully is to listen to the answers she gives you. Before you know it, you'll either find out that you have nothing in common, or you'll be embroiled in an hours long conversation that just might be the highlight of your evening. The point is, however, you won't know unless you go up and talk to her.
• A quick note about rings: if there's something on her left hand (or yours for that matter) just don't, ok. Adultery is so not worth the hassle.
• Don't try to be clever with your advances. Put yourself out there. Be a man, in other words. As you like to remind us every so often, you're descended from cavemen/hunter/gatherers. Go out and act like your prehistoric ancestors and try to hunt and gather. For instance, don't send her a drink; go up to her and ask her if you can buy her one instead. I can tell you from experience that if a woman is even reasonably attractive, she's had men send her drinks before. It gets old. Be fresh, unique and honest---ask her yourself.

And that's it, gents. The Cake Eater Flirtation dos and don'ts. Pretty simple stuff, on the whole.

My fellow divas, Silk, Sadie and Chrissy have their own takes on flirtation. Go read.

We also have a new feature this week. Some men have decided to get in on the Diva action and have formed, ahem, The Men's Club. Puffy (the first fish blogger, who would like you to know that despite his fins, he's ALL MALE, ALL THE TIME, BABY), The Wizard, and Phin and Zonker are the members of this exclusive little boys club and they will be preparing the Official Male Response (TM) every Wednesday to our little essays. The Wiz is up this week.

Should be fun to flip the coin, no?

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And so here we are. It's Friday. You've sent questions. And it's time for me to get around to answering them.

From Ed:

What makes a Diva jealous in a good way. What makes a Diva jealous in a bad way. Is there a difference?

OOOOOOOH. We've got a good one, right off the bat!

Answers to this and all your very important questions after the jump. more...

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So, my fellow divas and I have been chatting. We have decided about some stuff that we're keeping under wraps until it's ready to go. But there is one upcoming event I felt I should tell you all about since it's happening in, er, TWO DAYS! We've decided that---even though it appears we're probably a bit hopped up on the power of estrogen---we're going to start a weekly advice column, running every Friday. We're calling it, ahem, Divas Sez

Yeah. I know. You can stop laughing any time you feel would be appropriate. Now would probably be a good time. Lest we kick your ass. There are four of us and one of you...who do you honestly think is going to win that battle, eh? Particularly if we're all wearing heels. Be rational about it.

Anyway, since we round robin the topic picking, we've decided to do the same with just who is going to answer the questions. This week, it has been decided, it will be little ol' me who answers your deepest wonderings about the fairer sex. Should be good fun, no?

Anyone* can ask a question about anything, really. We may just not answer it. It all depends. We will, however, try to restrain ourselves from mocking any email we receive---provided we can help ourselves. We will respect anyonymity if the author of a letter requests it, but this should not be seen as a request for trolls to put their two cents in. If you have a question you need answered by a smart, beautiful woman, throw it in an email and send it to divassez@gmail.com and one of us will do our absolute best to try and answer it.

Get them to me by 12am CST Friday. (GMT-6).

*Except for Skippy. (Who runs what is really a NSFW blog, so don't click if you're offended by pr0n.) I'm sorry, dude, but you are banned from asking questions. We can't help you. We think that, perhaps, you're actually beyond help, but that's just us. We adore you, nonetheless. I'm sure that Loveline would love to have your questions. I have to think you and Adam Carolla were separated at birth. I'm sure he'd adore talking to you.

Besides, you can always revel in the fact you were banned from the get-go. You have street cred.

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The Demystifying Divas are nothing if not ambitious. We tackle the hard topics, so you don't have to! (Well, except for when we get overwhelmed by life and take a week off, but hey...we're DIVAS, we're allowed that sort of behavior. Just call us the Maria Callas Four!) Today's topic again---because I adore repeating myself---is what women want.

In the movie Singles, Janet, played by Bridget Fonda, has a chat with Campbell Scott's Steve, wherein she lists out all the things she used to want in a man, but she's gotten older and has narrowed it down to just one thing:

I just want someone to say "Bless You" when I sneeze.

I think it's honestly that simple. It's not about what you want, because no guy is ever going to live up to that. It's about what you can't live without. I can't live without multiple "bless you's" because I'm one of those people who sneezes three times at a shot. If the husband wasn't constantly saying "God Bless You" or "Geseundheit" the Catholic school girl in me would worry that I'm destined for hell because no one cared enough to say "Bless you" after I sneezed three hundred times in one day, which can happen if I have a bad cold. The husband understands this. He understands me.

But until you get to the point where you realize this, that anything other than the least common denominator is gravy a delightful surprise, you have to wean yourself from all the silly ideas you had when you were younger. When I was about sixteen my perfect idea of a man was someone who was successful, drove a 1964 1/2 red Mustang convertible (with the white leather interior), played electric guitar like Stevie Ray Vaughan and rode a white stallion on alternating weekends, using an English saddle, of course. On the other weekends, he would be off, saving the world from the evil clutches of SPECTRE, because he was, indeed, 007---he just wouldn't be able to tell me about it, because then he'd have to kill me and he wouldn't want that---which leads into the whole Han Solo-ish conflicted hero syndrome I've loved since I saw Star Wars at age seven. He would also have dark hair, was about 6'2", with eyes of blue and was ripped enough that he could be a model in the Soloflex ads (you remember those, don't ya?). He would also be able to kiss me in such a way that I would morph into a puddle of uncomprehending lust.

That one, fortunately, went out the window when I was about eighteen, hit college and realized just what men were about. The high standards I had set for my ideal mate, it became quite clear, would need to be readjusted. So, after much frustration, I rather cleverly decided the coin needed to be flipped and thought about what I could not live without. The list is as follows:

• A man who puts the seat down and doesn't splatter all over the place

And that's about it, kids. Because ultimately I decided I could not live without a decent man, and it was my observation, during my very own "Janet" moment, that all decent men put the seat down when they were done. It says quite a bit, that little act of courtesy. Particularly at two-thirty in the morning and you don't want to turn the bathroom light on.

The other Divas have their own takes on what a woman wants. Go and read, my children, and be enlightened.

UPDATE: The Wizard after saying some very nice things about the Divas (thank you, sir) points the way to this chuckle-inducer regarding King Arthur's quest to come up with an answer to the same question.

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So, having turned this into a weekly feature, the Demystifying Divas are at it again. And this week's topic is casual sex.

When we were discussing this topic via email, the general theme that arose was how women just aren't made for casual sex. Now, Sadie chalks this up to hormonal differences. Silk believes it's got something to do with vulnerability. And Feisty Christinathinks it's about differing expectations.

They're all correct. Each and every one of their reasons is true. To a certain extent. But I'm going to play the part of the devil's advocate here and say that the reason most women do not want to partake in casual sex is because some just don't like how they feel about the whole business in the harsh, cold, raccoon-eyed, light of day.

It's one thing to be Carrie Bradshaw at night. It's entirely another to be Carrie Bradshaw the morning after.

There is a reason, after all, why they call it the "Walk of Shame."

Because, like the reasons the others laid out, shame does have something to do with it. We may be fabulous, Twenty-First Century women and can compete with men on just about every playing field, but when it comes down to it, most of us would like to be considered a nice girl. And nice girls, on the whole, do not go home with men they barely know.

It's against the rules.

Men are allowed this sort of behavior when it comes to the rules of society. They're not labeled 'easy' after a night out. They're not labeled as a 'slut' or a 'whore' after spending the night with someone. They simply don't have to deal with any of that. It's expected behavior for them and they will not have to suffer the societal consequences of said behavior. But women? Well, that's a whole different story. The bar for our behavior has been set higher than for men.

It's the old "double standard" raising its ugly head again.

I attended an all-girls Catholic high school. It was school policy that when a girl became pregnant, she was automatically kicked out for violating the Honor Code. This wasn't something the school advertised, but it was apparent when someone disappeared, like a ghost who faces the steely light of dawn, that they hadn't just transferred to a different school. Yet, amazingly enough, when it was sussed out who the father of that child was, that boy never was kicked out of the boys' school down the road. He was allowed to continue on with his studies, at the school of his choice. He faced no adverse consequences, no drastic changes to his life, particularly when the child was invariably given up for adoption. But the girl? Well, that was another story. Conversely, when I was a senior, it was known fact amongst our classmates that one of the girls in our class had become pregnant and had had an abortion. When confronted, she admitted it, too. It was quite the scandale amidst all of us youthful pro-lifers. She wasn't kicked out of school, of course, because there was no proof of the deed and no one was brave enough to tell on her, three months before graduation. But, surprisingly enough, she couldn't get a date to the prom, either. She asked eight guys. They all said, 'no, thank you.' It didn't take a rocket scientist to suss out why she'd been refused. After all, if the news had spread around our school like wildfire, it would have been a very small leap to say that it had spread three miles down the road to the boys' school.

Now, of course, you're saying, "Kath, that was how many years ago?" Well, it was about fifteen. I'll admit that things might have changed in recent years. But I don't think they've changed so much that a construct as deeply embedded as the "Madonna/Whore" complex could be so easily removed from men's psyches in that short period of time.

Of course, this goes back to how women feel about themselves. If it doesn't bother you that someone has called you a slut, then you're probably going to go on with living your life as you choose. But it bothers a lot of us to be called such names. To have a "reputation." If there's any difference between now and my vaunted high school days is that women are increasingly ditching the baggage that comes with such behavior. And that's not a bad thing. After all, no one can make you feel bad about yourself unless you let them. Particularly when it comes to casual sex. To realize this is to pull the root of the double standard right out of its own turf. It goes one step further in making society at large realize that it takes two to tango, and that the consequences of casual sex should apply to both sexes, and that women shouldn't always be the proverbial fall guy.

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