Does size matter?


The never-ending debate

One we all can relate

Does size matter, we argue over and over

Let me attempt to make it clear…

What I am about to say is true,

Yes it does matter, let me assure you,

To a lion about his mane,

Or a midget who needs a cane.

What is important, above all

Is whether it is hard as candy or soft as a cotton ball,

The length and the width are a matter of proportion,

When there’s love it will still rock the ocean.

The other consideration is all about frequency,

A wham-bam, thank you, ma’am or a replay of intimacy.

The box tightens and expands no doubt,

But if the equipment is too large, it will tear it apart.

There is a fine line between pain and pleasure,

For every dick there is a beholder.

It is never about the size, let me emphasize

Give the pencils and the stumps a break, time to recognize.





Top 10 guys not to date #10

pink poms

As the Chinese lunar new year approaches, I was reminded of the time I dated someone with an obsessive, compulsive disorder. He developed it due to his chronic sinusitis.  How bad was it? It turned out to be the longest two weeks of my life, where I got into a time machine and went back to when I was five and it was the 1980s.

That was how he made me felt in his presence and space, where he lived in his own world with its own set of rules that had to be followed to a tee. For an independent woman, it was too much of other people’s rules she finds too trivial to be paying attention to and abide by. Life is meant to be lived vicariously through our lovers, our families and friends.

To be wiping the cutleries and the table at a mamak’s was not such a bad idea but to be doing it in a Michelin star restaurant was pompous. It was all a matter of opinion and for an OCD, only his mattered. I felt like I could go crazy. I have a fuzzy creature living with me, he could not be in my space without having a sneezing fit. That was one crucial sign that I needed, to know that he was not the one for the throne. There is a cat hovering around this one.

On the dresser

Every woman needs someone that empowers her, that drives her towards her dreams and aspirations. Someone with positive energy all around. That would be #4 on my Ken’s criteria list. There was too much negative energy with an OCD, too much drama. Not ideal for my growth as a woman, an individual who’s destined for bigger things.

The only thing that was keeping me around that long was the sex. Take that from the equation, we have nothing. One day, I just walked out in the middle of an argument when it dawned on me that there was no hope for gleeful happiness with a control freak. That was when I started packing my stuff and walked out his door a few days before Valentine’s day. Like a man. The damage was a pair of my favorite Nine West pumps and a pair of Onitsuka Tigers. Forgot about them and have not gone back to retrieve since then. Sacrificial lambs, my shoes. They took one for me and saved me from having to re-live the nightmare in my head if I had to face the OCD patient again.