Women…
Reuben and I went to a cocktail party a few weeks ago. It had been a fairly uneventful, unremarkable get together until someone busted out the 420. I don’t think I’ll smoke weed in public for a while. It makes me think too much. And not always of pleasant thoughts.
There was an “older” woman at the party, mid thirties or so, and a younger woman in her early twenties. They were both after the same guy. I don’t think he was flirting with either one, but he conversed a lot more with the younger one. What did both women see in him? A genuinely nice guy, for sure. Good looks. And straight. The last trait takes the average male very far in San Francisco.
I knew the older woman from previous parties. We made small talk and caught up. She is a fun, well-educated, exceptionally well-travelled individual. While she’s starting to get a few lines around her eyes, she still rocks her look. I found her infinitely more interesting.
Do you think weed brings suppressed emotions to the surface because everyone is high at the same time, and, hence, our elevated interactions create drama? Or do you think it’s all in my mind?
After we passed around the bong, I found myself again chatting with the “older” woman. She started to say stuff like, “Don’t you think it’ll be great if “X” (the guy they were both interested in) and “Y” (the younger woman) got together?” “Wouldn’t they make such a lovely couple?” she added.
She went on. “I just adore her. Y is soo smart. I think she’s lovely, I really do.”
As she’s saying this to me, she slams the door in Y’s face.
Chinese people have a saying: the older the ginger, the spicier.
Later, when Y sang a song for the guests, a capella, the older woman started laughing. It was not a derisive laughter, per se, but it wasn’t friendly, either. And she laughed throughout Y’s entire song.
Women are so adept at this subtle and unspoken violence against one another. When I am stoned and time slows down for me, I pick up on all of it. And, of course, being the woman that I am, I take sides.
I was instinctively drawn to the older woman. For a few fleeting stoned moments, I felt the horrible unfairness of the world through her perspective. She has lived in more countries than the younger woman can name. She is more educated. She has worked harder and gotten further in her career. She is a better, more interesting conversationalist. And because of a mere ten years difference in age, she has to suffer the indignities of being the one not chosen.
For all her accomplishments, she can’t even choose.
Men choose. Women can only preen themselves and hope they get chosen. Maybe it is better to be a lesbian and suffer less indignities.
The final insult: Y, the younger woman, wasn’t even pretty. She was just gawky. And young. I found myself thinking, omg, this plain jane talks up a storm about nothing, can’t tell an interesting story to save her life, and she really isn’t pretty enough to do this, period.
For my friends, customers, and loyal readers of this blog: Yes, I know Cassandra is not forever. I know men choose, and I know that one day I will no longer be the one chosen (especially not chosen with money!). I tell myself I will know when my time is up.
I hope I will exit gracefully, and not suffer the indignities of a prostitute past her prime.
When you got to the end of The Wrestler, didn’t you wish that they would just kill the guy and put him out of his misery?
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Tags: culture
Cass,
Men choose from the inner core. No matter the appearance of the time, they are thinking from the mind of the person. How strong is this person. As long as I can turn to you for the true advice, the true comment, you will never vou be ‘worn out’, You be be Master. All the physical stuff is secondary.
Thinking of your wise core.
Deep Kiss Gary
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Gary — Inner beauty… a truly elusive, mythical, and invisible quality. NO ONE, not even my truly gifted gynecologist, can find it! XOXO Cass
Hi Cass,
Men choose, but rarely do we choose wisely. One of the most difficult challenges that men and women face is to make choices which satisfy us apart from our immediate gratifications; choices which anchor our future happiness and contentment. We gravitate toward the meretricious qualities in the people, surroundings and objects around us. Your clients pursue Cassandra Gorgeous without considering “Cass” just as many women wish to partake of the wealth, status and physical attractiveness of the male objects of their desire without seeing the whole of the man behind his persona. For mens part in this we compromise ourselves by adapting to what women find outwardly attractive in a man such as a high status job, an expensive car and an uncomfortable wardrobe. Proverbially men choose between being the eligible high powered attorney who is invited to cocktail parties or the starving artist who is doing what he loves but alone and uninvited. In as much as you love what you are doing and are good at it, you are less of a prostitute than that attorney (or any man who compromises his “art” for a title.) who neither loves what he does nor pursues excellence at it. As for the older woman; she is confronted with the truth that others and society on the whole are not obligated to value in us what we value in ourselves or others. As for Cassandra, I’m sure that she will know when to exit gracefully when precious Cass takes her gently by the hand and ushers her away and then fills the stage in her place with depth, beauty and grace which all of us would choose..
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Brian: I have many friends, and a few clients, who are attorneys. I love how you say I’m less of a prostitute than they are! HHAHA LOL *hug* Cass
Hi Cass
I am a great, straight guy with his shit together living here in Las Vegas. I am successful, tall, both muscular and lean and very attractive. I have not as of yet but when I do, I believe you will refer to me as a as a first timer! I can not quite describe the feelings or fantasy’s that I have had since stumbling across your website and reading and rereading the sheet music that you create. The fact of me wanting you to be my first has caused some anxiety, derived from the “how” and “when” to contact you questions repeated in my head and the feeling that this will determine whether you grant me with the pleasure of becoming your student. I wait no long and break my silence writing to you to share with you a happened that occurred today as I sat at a red light on Las Vegas Blvd and Tropicana. Forgive my crammer or punctuation flaws; grant me this knowing that the much needed oxygen filled brain feeding blood is being occupied by a much stronger host!
You are totally and more than pleasantly surprised when you answer your door for me. Immediately your face shows of great pleasure as you recognize my tall, tone, tan and muscular body. You open your mouth to greet me but before the words are able to escape I press my lips lightly against yours and fill your mouth with my curious tongue. As we kiss our hands quickly find old territory and our once soft kiss is replaced with a passion filled press that leaves me lifting you onto your kitchen counter top. All that can be heard is the sound of your needed moaning and ever growing breathing as my lips move from your mouth and down to your breast. I worship them one at a time, my tongue circling your nipple, mixed with intervals of me sucking much like a baby on his mother’s breast. You are nearly frantic with ecstasy, you are almost desperate to get to my cock, tugging and pulling at my jeans but I keep you at bay as I work your body and tug gently, but not too gently on your hair. You hardly notice with all this going on that I have slipped your panties off and moved one leg complete up on to the counter top. This leaves me in-between your legs still making a meal of your nipples until I drop! I now have taken you into my mouth! Your excitement can not be hidden and the proof is their in its hardness! I can’t help myself either, I actually sound like a puppy…moaning as it struggles to get the toy from its mouth. I am in complete control! I hold your head back by your hair still and look into your eyes so that you can see the total pleasure that I am giving you and you are giving me. You fight to bring your other knee up, foot place on the counter top. Soon the rhythm of my hard work has you unconsciously pressing your hips and pushing all of you into my mouth stroke by stroke. I am no longer fighting to hold you in place, you are no longer a combatant but a willing pleasure filled victim under complete and udder hypnosis. I am no longer looking at you, steadfastly at work and you are glad because you are unable to hold your eyes that have been brought to a squint and a loud moan. Just when you think not possible the pace is than again increased and you find yourself unknowingly but breathing louder and louder. Your body begins to shake, convulsing as you press hard onto your heals, bringing your now wet ass up off of the counter, all the while feeling deep into the back of my throat. You are their………………………………One deep breath and you clinch your teeth and squeeze the back of my head down onto you! Than beep…beeep beeep…what the hell!
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Wow, Troy. That’s pretty hot. I might have to make a trip out to Vegas just to do you. : ) Cass
Hey Baby:
You ain’t no “one trick pony” Gorgeous!: not here, not the other..
I doubt at anything worthwhile in
this life…..just catchin up: JIM in WA
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Jim: I sure like it when guys ride me! : ) Cass