Tag Archives: suitor

Burly

j-r-practix-with-border-2

Burly: (adj) large and strong; heavily built.

How strong does a man have to be to attract a woman?

How feminine should a lady be to draw the attention of a male suitor?

We have so many rules and regulations in our society that twist us into believing that if we don’t conform to a certain protocol or image, we are doomed.

For years I’ve been concerned about being masculine. It’s not that I lack the appearance of being burly, but I’ve still been self-conscious about whether my pursuits in music and the arts might make me come off a bit “soft.” And God forbid a man should look soft–we believe that’s reserved for the female of our species. And God curse the woman who comes across as strong. That should be relegated to the male counterparts.

Baloney.

While trying to figure out what makes a man and a woman significantly noticeable, we’ve completely lost sight of what it means to be a human because both the female and the male are unwilling to give up any magical turf to comply and become equitable to one another.

I like strong women. It doesn’t make me weak, just as a woman liking a strong man doesn’t render her submissive.

At my advanced stage in life, would I still suck my gut in and over-rate my muscles when walking around a swimming pool?

I hope to God not.

But I’m greatly comforted that my blubbery body helps me avoid the deception.

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Abut

by J. R. Practix

dictionary with letter A

Abut: (v.) 1. to be next to an area of land or a building 2. to share a common boundary with

This word conjured a hilarious story from my past.

I once knew this lady who prided herself on being very dignified. She was dumped at the altar by a suitor who was less than scrupulous, and we invited her out to dinner to comfort her in her hour of anguish and sorrow. We all were furious with this venial chap who had treated her so badly.

Matter of fact, one of the members of our party called this fellow “an ass.”

The woman was a bit proper in her stylings, and never comfortable with the use of colorful language or colloquialisms. So even though we encouraged her to vent her anger, she could never quite come to the point of using the more appropriate terms to describe her rage.

So every time we referred to this former fiance as “an ass,” she would correct us by replying, “I don’t like that. Let’s just call him a butt.”

So as the evening wore on and she became more infuriated by him and confident in herself, her use of the phrase “a butt” became more and more intense, until finally, by the end of the evening, “a butt” sounded more ferocious and foul than “an ass.”

It was a valuable lesson to me–that often it’s not the words we choose that carry the vengeance, but rather, the spirit by which they’re flung.

But it will be impossible for me to ever think about “a butt” without remembering her crimson face spitting it out with gushers of anguish, as she pronounced the former boyfriend to be “a butt.”