Are We Really So Different?

Tremondous work. Each line rings true and hits hard. Inspires me. Thank you. A handshake MARK http://iamamanandmynameismark.blogspot.com/ markanthonypearce@googlemail.com

I thought this was brilliant, especially the last three lines, really tickled me. Jenny.

Oo-er, Richard! 'Women need to be wanted, And men want to be needed,’ - alas, in most cases, so true ;) A few years back a friend asked me the same question of what an orgasm felt like, but for a woman, as she had (unfortunately) never experienced one - hope she has now, I really feel for women who haven't, and there's actually scientific proof that some women physically can't, as some are just not born with the internal tissue required to cause such stimulation through penetrative sex (thank goodness for them that there are other ways and means, eh?) :) The only way I could explain it to her in a way she might understand was like this 'a contraction is at one end of the spectrum, and an orgasm is at the other - those waves of pain you get with an oncoming contraction come in exactly the same way as the waves of pleasure do with an orgasm, it kind of rumbles through your body from some depth you never even knew you had, until finally, it explodes. Only, when the contractions end, you've got a baby, and when an orgasm ends, you light-up a cigarette' Thankfully, she had been through child birth and instantly knew what I was on about. As you have so obviously not, this probably makes no sense to you whatsoever, but I thought you might just like to know! You still didn't actually tell us what it feels like for a man, though, did you? No man has ever been able to explain this to me in a way that made any sense, so please, Mr Rock, elaborate... :) All that aside, I really love what you've done here, Richard - made me laugh at the end and I especially like the idea of the topic being discussed in a restaurant, a public place - reminded me of that famous scene in 'When Harry Met Sally'. Have never watched the Keitel film you mentioned, but the filthy side to my mind is rather intrigued so will be looking that up shortly, cheers ;) Thanks for highlighting this poem to me in the comment you left on 'Exorcism..' - very, very much enjoyed and I look forward to the next. That bravery we've spoke of of late is stamped all over this - I'm actually a bit of a prude and find it refreshing, liberating and scary as hell whenever I write something a little explicit, and I have a feeling it was the same here for you. I think you did a great job of it, though if I really was to say anything remotely critical about it I'd say this - maybe a few breaks, make it into stanzas? I don't know if this will work myself, to be honest, but if you don't mind I'm going to see what it looks like - We were talking about sex in a restaurant And she told me that a woman’s orgasm Was an all-over body experience, But I couldn’t help wondering Whether she imagined that a man Felt anything at all. Perhaps she thought that it was More of a task of orientation for a man, Like climbing a huge mountain And then gasping at the terrain he’d covered. ‘Women need to be wanted, And men want to be needed,’ She told me, But when I made a joke That outlaws are always wanted And mothers like to be needed, She shook her head And rolled her eyes. She would suffer my stupidity. ‘As far as I see it,’ I said, Chomping on meat, ‘A woman’s sex goes inwards And a man’s sticks out. You’re the rawlplug I’m the screw And the wall is our bond.’ Well, she didn’t like that image And huffed over the table, Almost blowing out The candle between us. ‘Alright then,’ I said, ‘You’re the car I’m the petrol And the road is life. One without the other Just doesn’t work.’ ‘I’m not a vehicle,’ she said, And left it at that, Lazily shaking her head As she played with her salad. We talked about other things, Like the weekend ahead, And as I drifted off I remembered Harvey Keitel In Bad Lieutenant, When he pulled over Two beautiful girls in a car And wanked over them As one displayed her arse And the other pretended To be sucking his dick. She was talking about a party And a girl we both knew. ‘Did you see the state of her?’ she asked. But my mind was elsewhere. ‘Men are like dogs,’ I said, ‘Always sniffing around things And getting in trouble, While women are like cats. They’re dark and mysterious, And like to preen themselves.’ I didn’t have the foggiest idea What I was talking about, But she laughed So I got away with it. I told her that I knew She wasn’t a car Or a boat Or a plane Or a train. She was an angel With a beautiful mind And a heart full of love, And that’s when I knew We would make love later on. I asked for the bill And we left hand in hand. On the way home, She looked so sexy Under the yellowy light of the street But when I tried to explain What an orgasm was like for men It all came out wrong, And she screamed with laughter. This is quite possibly the longest comment I have ever left (and that's saying something) so I will wrap this up by saying that I still can't decide if my meddling makes any difference whatsoever, and so please ignore it if you think it makes no difference, too. And also I must apologise profusely for messing around with your poem, I just couldn't help myself - please take it as a compliment, as that whas my honest intention :) Cheers for another great read - will shut up now, promise :) Rachel xx

Just cracked myself up at the ridiculous length of my previous comment - will keep this one short and sweet. Really flattered that my advice was taken the way it was intended, and that you thought it helped - I loved your poem regardless, but am pleased my rambling didn't confuse you and helped in some way. As for your explaination, I like '...maybe it's a place in the mind that no other feeling can match, where every neuron 'meets' in a fusion of ecstacy.' - think that's more than a pretty good way of putting it :) And thanks for putting up with my long-winded comments, even my short and sweet ones aren't that bloody short, are they - I think I have a problem ;) All the best to you too, Rachel xx

Cheers, Richard, really means a lot, that does. Good story, wasn't it? I remember getting a lot of help when I first joined (and still do) and it's nice to be able to return the favour to someone else now and again. On days when I feel like just ploddin' through life I'll try to remember your words and up-it to truckin' - thank you, you're pretty darn supportive yourself :) Anyway, this game of compliment-tennis will have us both with a headache, so it's game, set and match to you, blighters, 'til the next time :) Take care, Rachel xx

Hi Richard, I thought I'd take a look at who was giving me such helpful comments, and I'm not disappointed. Your body of work is fantastic, I'm sure you don't nee me to tell you, and this is the first piece of it I've commented on. I love non-rhyming poems like these, and do agree with Rachel about the stanza breaks, which enhance the idea of it as a conversation. It really felt that every word was well-chosen, especially on such an opaque subject. I couldn't tell if there was a teensy bit of generalisation of women toward the end - call them an Angel and it'll all be fine, that sort of thing - but it's also a recognised trope of romantic metaphor, and I can hardly complain when I know full well that it works ;) Very much enjoyed. Thanks! All the best, LJ

Great piece, blighters. Really made me smile! Us women can be so stubborn and haughty, can't we? ;-) Magic xxx