Important Women - for the development of a young man’s life

[46n2]

I had a shitty mother.

It’s not that simple. She wasn’t entirely shitty. She was actually plenty dynamic, in ways that’s made it lots more difficult for OTHER women to measure up to my own expectations. She’s made it plenty difficult for other women to be enough.

And she’s made it plenty necessary for other women to… enrich me.

And some of them have.


CHRISSY

I’ve told this story too many times on here (over the years) to make it brand new again but Chrissy was my baseball coach. When I was fuckin 7 or 8. “Chrissy” and “Howdy”. They were a team. They were a team for the rest of the team. This was in a little shitty hick town where, when looking back, you don’t have a female fucking baseball coach. How the hell did she think she could DO that?

Well she was right. She could.

She was also right about ME. I could. In ways I thought I couldn’t.

“Put this on. Get out there. Yer gonna be great.”

I’ll never forget it. As if it were yesterday. It’s been with me ever since.

She handed me a nard protector. That thing a catcher puts over his balls so the hardball don’t hit yer goodies while yer receiving the pitch. Yup.

I’d been in the Outfield up until then. Just another guy. But our catcher - who was outrageously horrible - got sick for a week and the lot of us went through practice playing the role. I won. I didn’t suck. On a ridiculously shitty team, I didn’t suck. So I won.

She had warned me, “If he doesn’t show up. Yer the guy.” I was terrified. He needed to show up. I did not want to be “the guy”. But he didn’t. I did instead. So then I met her on that Saturday with the cock protector in her hand. “Put this on.” I went out there and fucking OWNED it. I had to. I could not fail her belief in me. I had to do everything I possibly could to see her smile at me in response. And once I saw that. I had to do it over and over and over and over and over and over and over again.

I’m the best catcher that town has ever seen. No one will ever replace me. I would chase dudes back to the bag. I would throw them out from the plate. We didn’t even have a pitcher. This was just above pee wee league, we had grown men out there lobbing the ball to the plate. Where I would grab it and throw some dickhead out on third base who thought he could cheat my team and move towards home without his own guy hitting the ball. You can’t do that on me. Cuz Chrissy is my coach.

I would throw my helmet off and chase fuckers down. Put them in a pickle. Tag them out. I caught foul balls all over the place. I once raced one down to the dugout and threw myself across the pebbles. I caught the ball. Right in front of all my other teammates. They went berserk. I loved going into the dugout after we survived anohter inning somehow. They would jump up and down and hug me. And I’d get to see coach Chrissy’s face.

She would smile at me.

“I told you so.”

Plus, she was FINE. Hot as hell. Smoking hawt. The hottest chick you’ve ever seen. This was the 70’s and she would wear bell bottom jeans that clutched her cunt like the mitt in my hand. Surfer chick. The “Valley” was 15 minutes away from the shore. She would go out there and surf. Then come back to the rest of us (and Howdy), teach us how to play ball.

How am I allowed to get that lucky?

Why do I get to have that?

Chrissy. Where the fuck am I at with anything if not for her?

“Put this on. Get out there. Yer gonna be great.”

My mother never could put the three of those thoughts together. But Chrissy could. And would. And did. So I did what she wanted me to. And I’ve been a better man for it every day of my life.

Thank you, Chrissy.

 

[46n2]

MRS WISE

I’m not kidding that was her name.

My first grade teacher. Fucking brilliant.

Since I had issues at home never receiving enough attention. I would “act out” in school. A major disturbance. I needed everyone to be listening to me at all times. And it worked. Everyon ewould listen to me. Other girls in the class would giggle and look at me that way, ya know? But none of them could look at me like Mrs Wise could.

Mrs Wise would look at me like, “You can do better. Yer better than that.”

I dunno how she saw anything but she made me her project. She would put stickers on my desk when I did well. She was always giving me SOMEthing to reward me for not being an asshat. But I WAS an asshat. I could not stop troubling the entire class. More of them than there was her, right?

So eventually. She needed to remove me from the rest of them. “How do I get this clown away from the rest of the class?”

Dinosaur club.

“I want you to choose an idea. A theme. And you can take two other people. Go ver there and build a fort. And do that theme, all day long. Read about it and draw it and discuss it and be ALL about whatever that is. Take two other kids and fucking lose yourself. Get the fuck out of my face.”

She didn’t turd on me like that but you get the point. She made it feel like a gift instead.

So I did that. Dinosaur club. Only, all the other kids got jealous. It backfired. Me and two other dickheads would be over there having a blast and Mrs Wise would be looking at an entire first grade unit with their faces in profile. Watching Dinosaur Club.

So what could she do now?

This is where an excellent person examples their own ability to completely rise above and become an EXCEPTIONAL person. This is where Mrs Wise makes it particularly difficult for the rest of you bitches to be good enough. Cuz yer NOT good enough. Yer not Mrs Wise.

Somewhere within the middle of my 1st Grade year, we didn’t do traditional class work. You would walk in there and observe a flurry of activity. The energy was insane.

EVERYone. Had a club.

We had the octopus club, the tree club, the ocean club, the animal club, the world club, the universe. It went on and on and on. Mrs Wise completely scrapped whatever her plans had been for the year and adapted. I’d fucked it all up. So she went beyond me. Turned my negative into a positive. Kids were going nuts. We were reading books at a record pace. We were literally competing with each other. To know more about whatever our club was than the next guy. It was like a hot dog eating competition. And you will never know more about Dinosaurs than I did at the age of 6 or 7 (whatever it was).

Mrs Wise was also, like Chrissy, fucking smoking hawt.

I know. It’s not fair. It isn’t. How do I get to have both the baseball coach AND the wicked hawt teacher. Hey, in some things I’m lucky (in others not so much).

I would invite her to my birthday party every year I had until I turned 13 or something. She never showed up. I think she may have known that there needed to be some distance understood between us. It never occured to me it might be cuz she doesn’t like me; I’m a fucking negative and not a plus. There could only be some other far more positive reason I would manufacture. Out of respect for what she’d already shown me. She didn’t really need to be there anyway. She already was. And is. And will be forever.

Sorry about that for the rest of you cunts.

+++


Now YOU go.

Your turn.

What woman informed your future in such a way that you’ve done nothng but benefit ever since? Nevermind all this MeToo crap. Legitimate someone. And do it for real. No sucking up.

Laurel? You almost made the list.

You can’t. But you alomost did. Very near it. Well done.

 

[Saint_Ann]

What'shername

In college I was in this bar with a guy I knew and a bunch of friends- it was his birthday. He was sorta dating What'shername at the time. She was getting pretty drunk and somehow got goaded into giving kisses to everyone. She got around to me and put her lips on mine. Back then I had only kissed one other person, sexually, so I really didn't know what to expect.

Her lips were incredibly soft and the pressure was just right. The room got suddenly quiet and many jaws dropped open.

Anyway, the kiss ended and as she slowly pulled away she looked into my eyes and smiled and then continued around the room.

Never saw her again but I guess the lesson I learned was that I needed to up my game if I were to be among the sexually elite.

Funny I still rememder that. I think the boyfriends name was Liam, or something like that.

How ironic.

 

[46n2]

Nice. That’s a good one.

“I bet you never knew this but… someone else knows how you want to be kissed just right. And I’m a girl.”

And the result was you wanted to up your OWN game?

It elevated you?

‘I’m not a victim. Here for waiting. I need to make my own way among it all. I’m gonna need to kiss someone else that well. And it ain’t gonna fuckin be Liam. Nor What’shername. She already gave me the gift to carry forward.’

Very nice, I like it. And appreciate how that’s in keeping with the theme I presented; you never fail to meet a post where it’s meant to be met. Which speaks well to your own ability to match a kiss with someone else you’ve yet to meet, btw. It's possible that What'shername had to pause in the aftermath cuz you surprised her also, eh. Ever consider that?

Ain’t it kinda weird how sometimes you’re sure it’s just gonna be bliss before it happens. And then it totally isn't? And then another time yer like, oh what the hell - and fireworks go berserk. Wild how that works, eh?

It took me some time to recognize I can’t exactly control the results of that. But I’m always gonna bring my A game. Cuz ya just never know.

; )

 

[twister947]

Subscribed

 

[46n2]

Surely you’ve got something to add to the thought, Mister Twister?

Some damn fine sig lines you’ve got there. Tell us a story, mate.

 

[twister947]

Surely you’ve got something to add to the thought, Mister Twister?

Some damn fine sig lines you’ve got there. Tell us a story, mate.

Sorry to disappoint; I'm a reader, not a writer.

 

[46n2]

Fair enough, brother.

One cannot work without the other ; )

 

[46n2]

JANE FONDA.

Jane Fonda has been everything from Barbarella - to woke before that was ever a thing - to fucking married to Ted Turner (and broke his heart). She’s done it all. She’s given everything a chance to show her what It is and she’s been All In on absorbing it.

I think she is the most outstanding woman I’ve ever witnessed and very much on a scale with MLK when it comes to leadership and a fine example for others of “her” (in this case) ilk to follow.

In a word, she is: Tremendous.

And I’ve been watching her all along.

There’s a little bit of attached history here. Not exactly, but sorta.

My Grandfather used to manage her star father’s money, Henry (along with many other Hollywood “heroes” of that era like Jimmy Stewart, Blake Edwards, Julie Andrews before they were a pair, a whole long line of ‘em). the story was they were pals and went out to Hollywood together. But my Grandfather had a wife that fell ill and could no longer leave the bed so - rather than become a star himself, he simply supported everyone else in being one.

So when I’d watch Jane Fonda on screen or in print, I knew that. “That’s the daughter of that guy my particularly admirable grandfather takes care of”. I sort of know her. We’ve never met. And never will (all of that pomp and circumstance was very much removed from where I was and how I was raised). But I sort of know her anyway. Kinda. I felt invested in some ways, perhaps.

When she made that movie On Golden Pond, I knew the background on it. I knew how she’d felt entirely separate from her father all those years leading up to it. I knew how my own mother had felt detached from her own father. That’s just the way it was in those days. So when they shared that scene together. And he owned all that in his eyes - and by extension hers as well. That hurt me good. I could absolutely FEEL her feeling it. I knew what it meant for her. I knew how much she’d needed it. And worked so hard to have it.

Which truly gave me strength for all those moments I might feel completely detached myself.

I could never be a Jane Fonda. I’ve not got legs you can build an entire workout video franchise around - and sell a whole lotta leg warmers - for one thing. But more importantly, I’m just not anywhere near as awesome as she is. I don’t own that kinda courage. I can’t be Barbarella to Ted Turner’s wife AND everything in between all at once (or over a span of time). All I can mostly do is notice those things. And maybe I can carry it around. Maybe I bump into a person needing help to reach that top rack item at the grocery store and I just make the extra tiny effort available to identify her a certain way, “Jane Fonda is a woman, you know. And I pay attention. I’m looking at you.”

Cuz I can and will always do that. I’ve been doing it continuously and constantly nearly all of my life. I very rarely do NOT do that…


I guess what I’m saying is, despite the many failures of other women I’ve encountered across the length of my time on the planet, including (most painfully) my own mother - Jane Fonda has always been there to remind me that I cannot ever quite enough accurately identify the ongoing plight that a female is born with. I’ll always be a dude with a swinging dick between my legs instead. I’ll never know what she must overcome, in perpetuity.

But I can appreciate it enough - in a particularly aware while not overbearing way - when I smile at you, for having the courage to ask me for some reasonably minor assistance of a kind.

Cuz even Jane Fonda can’t do all of that alone, ya know.

 

[twister947]

Interesting.

There was a time in the not-too-distant past when the most casual mention of her name would elicit a tsunami of hateful vomit.

And then, a draft Dodger was elected Commander In Chief. How times change...

 

[Pairaclities]

JANE FONDA.

Jane Fonda has been everything from Barbarella - to woke before that was ever a thing - to fucking married to Ted Turner (and broke his heart). She’s done it all. She’s given everything a chance to show her what It is and she’s been All In on absorbing it.

I think she is the most outstanding woman I’ve ever witnessed and very much on a scale with MLK when it comes to leadership and a fine example for others of “her” (in this case) ilk to follow.

In a word, she is: Tremendous.

And I’ve been watching her all along.

There’s a little bit of attached history here. Not exactly, but sorta.

My Grandfather used to manage her star father’s money, Henry (along with many other Hollywood “heroes” of that era like Jimmy Stewart, Blake Edwards, Julie Andrews before they were a pair, a whole long line of ‘em). the story was they were pals and went out to Hollywood together. But my Grandfather had a wife that fell ill and could no longer leave the bed so - rather than become a star himself, he simply supported everyone else in being one.

So when I’d watch Jane Fonda on screen or in print, I knew that. “That’s the daughter of that guy my particularly admirable grandfather takes care of”. I sort of know her. We’ve never met. And never will (all of that pomp and circumstance was very much removed from where I was and how I was raised). But I sort of know her anyway. Kinda. I felt invested in some ways, perhaps.

When she made that movie On Golden Pond, I knew the background on it. I knew how she’d felt entirely separate from her father all those years leading up to it. I knew how my own mother had felt detached from her own father. That’s just the way it was in those days. So when they shared that scene together. And he owned all that in his eyes - and by extension hers as well. That hurt me good. I could absolutely FEEL her feeling it. I knew what it meant for her. I knew how much she’d needed it. And worked so hard to have it.

Which truly gave me strength for all those moments I might feel completely detached myself.

I could never be a Jane Fonda. I’ve not got legs you can build an entire workout video franchise around - and sell a whole lotta leg warmers - for one thing. But more importantly, I’m just not anywhere near as awesome as she is. I don’t own that kinda courage. I can’t be Barbarella to Ted Turner’s wife AND everything in between all at once (or over a span of time). All I can mostly do is notice those things. And maybe I can carry it around. Maybe I bump into a person needing help to reach that top rack item at the grocery store and I just make the extra tiny effort available to identify her a certain way, “Jane Fonda is a woman, you know. And I pay attention. I’m looking at you.”

Cuz I can and will always do that. I’ve been doing it continuously and constantly nearly all of my life. I very rarely do NOT do that…


I guess what I’m saying is, despite the many failures of other women I’ve encountered across the length of my time on the planet, including (most painfully) my own mother - Jane Fonda has always been there to remind me that I cannot ever quite enough accurately identify the ongoing plight that a female is born with. I’ll always be a dude with a swinging dick between my legs instead. I’ll never know what she must overcome, in perpetuity.

But I can appreciate it enough - in a particularly aware while not overbearing way - when I smile at you, for having the courage to ask me for some reasonably minor assistance of a kind.

Cuz even Jane Fonda can’t do all of that alone, ya know.

Hanoi Jane is a traitor.

 

[adrina]

A trumper accusing someone of being a traitor. Interesting.

 

[46n2]

Interesting.

There was a time in the not-too-distant past when the most casual mention of her name would elicit a tsunami of hateful vomit.

And then, a draft Dodger was elected Commander In Chief. How times change...

Haha...

I appreciate you very much, Twister.

I see the hat. And I recognize you might have a few certain cemented concepts within you. I would not say that you are wrong on any of them. You are clearly a very thoughtful person who does not accept just the cover - they read the fuckin book.

So if you might dislike her for that reason (if I'm reading that right at all?), that's fair. But look at the rest of it, eh. And that was my point. She was not afraid - of any of it. None of it. Fucking went there. All in. Learned.

And I like that. A lot!


We can both agree that "the" or any - draft dodger is dogshit. Plain and simple. Inarguable fact ; )

 

[46n2]

A trumper accusing someone of being a traitor. Interesting.

Seriously, wtf?

His avatar is a guy who... I mean, say whatever you wanna about that dude but betrayal is somewhat reasonably within the picture (while I'm not choosing a side on that). And then he wants to piss on "Hanoi Jane"?

This fuckin rabbit hole we're in is disturbed beyond a level we might ever recover from. It is ALL sorts of nasty and confusing way the hell beyond necessary.

How can ANY person think that way?

I mean, your head would have to be entirely up your own ass to even BREATHE that kind of idiotic hypocrisy. WTF man?!

I don't get it.

 

[46n2]

Anyways, um...

HEY!!!!

Can someone else other than me please offer up a story on the Topic?

I need to hear one.


I need 2 things.

I need a song that comments on everything we've been dealing with the last few years. I just need one. Is that too much to ask? In the 70's? They never stopped coming. Songs and songs and songs and movies. I just want to buy a vowel now. One song. Is that too much too ask? Cuz I need it. REAL bad.

Second thing I need? Is to get the hell off my own rocker cuz I'm crazy town at this point. So show me what I'm missing. Talk to me about YOUR important person. And it's gotta be a chick, no dudes. (I mean, you can be a chick or a dude who's talking about it but the person you're pointing at MUST be a female.)

Thanks.

I need this very much from you.

I'm totally on tilt. Help me out here.


PS I know I just said dudes only but... Andrew Whitworth? Dude. Brother. Ace. WTF? Absolutely fucking crushing it. Pull that up on YouTube if you don't know what I'm talking about. I won't ruin it. Just do that. All you will need is the name.

Fucking. Glorious.

 

[twister947]

Haha...

I appreciate you very much, Twister.

I see the hat. And I recognize you might have a few certain cemented concepts within you. I would not say that you are wrong on any of them. You are clearly a very thoughtful person who does not accept just the cover - they read the fuckin book.

So if you might dislike her for that reason (if I'm reading that right at all?), that's fair. But look at the rest of it, eh. And that was my point. She was not afraid - of any of it. None of it. Fucking went there. All in. Learned.

And I like that. A lot!


We can both agree that "the" or any - draft dodger is dogshit. Plain and simple. Inarguable fact ; )

I wasn't dissing Jane. Not at all. I'm cool with her.

 

[46n2]

Sweet.

Love ya, brother.

 

[twister947]

Well, okay then...

When I was a little kid, maybe 5 or so, we lived in a small town. I was playing outside, and wandered off. Little kids are like turtles; set one down, turn your back for a moment, look again, and no turtle. Like that.

So I found myself in the middle of a strange street amongst homes I didn't recognize. Lost. Terrified. Bawling.

A lady appeared, and asked me my name. She took my hand, led me into her house, sat me down at her kitchen table, gave me a snack, and picked up the phone.

And then, my mother appeared. Thanks to that kind woman, whose name I never knew.

But I remember her. She was black.

Now, mind, this was before Brown, JFK, Dr. King, Bobby, Selma, Birmingham, Little Rock...Jim Crow was the law, and segregation was in the air we all breathed, black and white.

And yet...a firewall went up that day. It has held back the flames for all these years. I wish I knew her name; I would find her family and tell them about their grandmother.

 

[46n2]

OH SHIT dude. I am gonna LUV me summa this...

 

[46n2]

She.. took you in. You never got found, you just got, handled.

"She took me hand. Gave me a snack." And then my mom arrived.


You are a fucking VERY interesting dude, Twister.

you are like, man, yer a thinker. You are SOUND.


Hmm, someone happened to grab you up that day and she was dark of color. This will forever inform your ongoing... awareness, of others.

Hmm... wouldn't it be nice if we could all assume the same immediate POTENTIAL intersextion...


How can you ever measure the value that woman afforded you? It cannot ever be measured. Right? Fuckin, just a woman, and some common sense. And now you are you.

 

[46n2]

Maybe my story was a little more large. Maybe it's a mistake for me to say your own experience has to be VERY "large".

I had not meant to say that.

I'm only asking for:

Gigantic women.


Women that don't take. And gave instead.

 

[Strixaluco]

Interesting to read these. I wonder whether there's a similar discussion about important men for the development of young women?

 

[MrRandyWatson]

Hanoi Jane is a traitor.

Not much of an actor either, at least not at this stage of her career.

Also definitely been thinking a lot about the women who molded my sexual preferences - and some of the reasons why they looked so appealing to me.

The first? It was in second grade. Another student and I got called into a special program for what I assume was kids with special skills to learn chemistry (I think the program got cut so I only got to do this a few times, but anyway.)

The instructor had to be a grad student or something. Her name was Erica, and I can still picture her - dark skin, perfect wavy hair, a youthful face…probably the first woman I can really remember being honestly able to call beautiful.

I’m still a bit sore that was taken away from me, partially because I wanted to learn new things at that age, partially because it was cool to feel special…and partially because the instructor was a goddess. I mostly appreciated her smile and her face; I wasn’t old enough to appreciate a great body yet. But looking back, she had one. If I had to guess, she had D cups that looked amazing in the sweaters she wore. Lots of curves. Too bad second-grade me couldn’t appreciate curves like I can now.

 

[AlexBailey]

This probably isn't what the OP had in mind...


Michelle.

She was an inexplicably smart and talented hot girl who was above everyone else in high school. Her schedule was full of extra curricular activities and she didn't have time for a boyfriend, lots of firsts but few second dates, and was never known to let anyone get to second base. She was an A student and captain of the cheer squad, a queen bee, but kind. Her dad was a biker and her mom was a beauty. Michelle couldn't wait to graduate and get out of town.

I was a wallflower. I got attention from girls but I didn't pick up cues very well. Friends would ask if I liked different girls and I would say things like "Yea, she's nice. I like her style," and friends would say "Well ask her out! " I never felt worthy. I was a closeted cross dresser and was full of family trauma and insecurities... "Why do I feel jealous of girls, especially ones who guys like? Why are tough butch girls so hot?"

I got asked out for dates by girls who I barely knew who seemed to have lots of expectations. I had a nice car, a job, and some spending money, but something was always off, awkward as fuck. I couldn't say the right things and often felt like I was going out with my sister.

Michelle was always smiling and friendly to me at school. We shared a class before noon and she would often ask me for a ride into town for lunch. I'd figured that she liked my car and liked hanging out with me because other guys would leave her alone when we were hanging out. I thought it was just as friends when she asked me to the prom. During the month or so before the dance we became third-base lovers but weren't quite a couple.

My high school social status went from "Alex who?" to "Michelle's boyfriend? WTF?" She liked that I wasn't an alfa-male and could hang with her and her friends. When they dressed me up as a cheerleader for a school event Michelle knew that I liked it, knew that I felt better that way. She knew that it was special to me when she came off the field during the powder puff football game with her in a football uniform with shoulder pads and tight pants, and that I loved being the cheerleader in a mini-skirt and her sweater. She kissed me long and hard in front of everyone in the grandstands in a complete gender role reversal that received an ovation.

 

[slutindianwife]

not sure what this is about.