Complications, Mr. Angry points out, occur when the thought recurs not once but several times.

I found myself wondering about the five o’clock shadow, for the fifth time that day. I’ve always been a practical woman and back then, a sensible little girl. Whenever it was time to write Santa a letter, I never asked for snow, a treasure chest, or a million dollars like my siblings did. I asked for fifty bucks, and two day’ furlough from house chores.

My reaction to the five o’clock shadow was no different. Because I believe ghosts leave only after you ask them to, I messaged him on Skype. “Okay, let’s go see a movie.”

We went. He was pretty sweet. He bought me popcorn and all the junkfood I wanted. He offered me his jacket and held my hand. We were acting like young lovers. Not wanting to complicate an already complicated situation, I told him, “I’m not here to fall in love.

He let go of my hand.

The next morning, we chatted and agreed to meet for lunch. What I want, I told him, is an orgasm. I don’t want to fall in love. I just want to find release. My hands are efficient, but I’m getting tired of this do-it-yourself business.

I can give you that, he replied. Is that’s all you want?


All right. Meet me tomorrow. I won’t be gentle. You’ll come so many times you’ll need help walking.

Good, good.

I won’t be gentle. I’ll make sure you won’t ever forget my name. He went into lurid detail, telling me how well he multi-tasks. I’ll ram you from behind while my fingers play with your vulva, and when you’re oozing with cum and you’re thrashing wildly, I’ll eat you. All of you.

Sounds fun. Let’s start with lunch, then eat our way into another meal.

Okay, I’ll see you in an hour.

I showered so quickly I arrived five minutes early. I waited thirty minutes more before calling him up. I’m running late, he said. Give me two hours more.

Okay, I said, even though inside, I was a conflicted and conflicting mass. I trudged to the office, figuring I’d get some work done while I wait for him. But my imagination and the anticipation proved too much. It wasn’t long before I abandoned all pretence of work altogether and propped my legs widely on my table. There, in the dark and to the gentle lull of the air blowing out of the airconditioner, on the desk where I sign many a government form and vacation leave applications, I brought myself to a quick and furious climax.

Damn you, five o’clock shadow.


She was the new ESL teacher, bungling through her first day. He was one of the two or three native English speakers, and he was always eager to help. He helped look for files she couldn’t find. He helped map her schedule, and get the crazy foreign names straight. He gives commentaries on students he’s handled before, to give her teaching ideas.

And then, four days into the job, he planted himself so close to her they were practically nose to nose. “How about going to a movie or something?” he asked with a grin. His smile blinded her; she looked at her feet.

I can’t, I’m sorry. I’m married.

Oh.” He stood there, unmoving, until hastily but awkwardly, she bid him goodbye and shuffled out of the door. And it would have been the end of the story, really, had there not been that second or two, that little gap in time when, in between stare and answer, she caught her breath at his maleness and wondered how his five o’clock shadow would feel on her cheek.


Psst, he messaged her, out of the blue. How are you?

Swamped with a gazillion things to sign, she typed back. And you?

Never better.

Silence, on her end. She has a gazillion things to sign, after all. Then too, they don’t have anything to talk about. They never did. That’s why she picked him. She knew it would be impersonal. There would never be any i’m-falling-for-you moments between them. She knows his address and all the information found on his resume. She knows how much he earns monthly, how many times he’s missed work, and why. That’s why she chose him. She knows he doesn’t have a lovelife. She wouldn’t be taking anything away from another woman. It would be just two hours, two hours in a never-ending cycle of overlapping minutes. Two hours. One time. Who would miss it? Afterwards, she bid him goodbye as quickly and efficiently as she had chosen him. No words wasted; no small gestures expended.

But he was persistent. I’ve something to tell you.

Okay, what is it?

I now have a girlfriend. She’s the sister of my friend.

Good for you. It’s about time. Now, you won’t have any reason to do overtime on Saturdays and Sundays.

Yeah. She’s really beautiful.

Good. You’d appreciate beauty. You’re an artist.

She’s a nurse. She’s preparing to go to the U.S. She’s the eldest. She has two other sisters. She’s as tall as I am, and she’s 21 years old.

Again, silence on her end. What was there to say? She didn’t want to pretend interest. She had work to do.

He tried again. She has a mole on her face. Like you do.

That’s interesting.

Yes. She’s not as smart as you are, but who would be? I’m lucky to have her.

She’s really great to be with.

She drinks like one of the boys. She can draw, too.

Still, silence from her end.

Hello, he buzzed again. Are you still there? Can I see you this week?


I’ve something to tell you.

You can tell me now.

It seemed to her half an eternity before he answered. I’m afraid I like you more than I like her.

Perhaps, this is just fiction.


A long time ago, you broke my heart. I cried over you. I thought I hated you. But no, the heart is resilient. It heals. It continues to love. I know how long I’ve loved you. I’ve loved you for 11 years.

I love you, still. But you have to understand. Mine is not a hungry love. I’ve loved you for years without seeing you or talking to you. I can love you for 11 more from half a world away. I just love you – no ifs, buts, or hows. I can’t even remember why.

I love you, but I do not need to have you. I am happy where I am.


And I love her.

Shoes and Penises

Should you order shoes online based on penis size?

I seem to be blogging so much about penises these days. Perhaps, it’s penis-envy; perhaps, it’s lack of exposure to one. No matter what the reason, though, I might as well blog about something useful while I’m at it.

There’s been lots of talk going on about penis size being correlated to shoe size. In fact, not only is there talk about the relationship, there’s even a formula for it. The equation, it is said, is as follows: (Your Shoe Size + 5) / 2

Whether real or not, this is a very fascinating idea. Consider the following chart:

Europe 35 35½ 36 37 37½ 38 38½ 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46½ 48½ Europe
Japan 21.5 22 22.5 23 23.5 24 24.5 25 25.5 26 26.5 27.5 28.5 29.5 30.5 31.5 Japan
Korean (mm.) 89- 101 108 114 121 127 133 140 148 156 174 184 216 244 264 280+ Korean
U.K. 3 4 5 6 7 8 10½ 11½ 13 U.K.
U.S. 4 5 6 7 8 9 10½ 11½ 12½ 14 U.S.
Inches 9 91/8 93/8 95/8 97/8 10 101/8 10¼ 10½ 10¾ 11 11¼ 11½ In.
Centimeters 22.8 23.1 23.5 23.8 24.1 24.5 24.8 25.1 25.4 25.7 26 26.7 27.3 27.9 28.6 29.2 Cm.
Mondopoint 89- 101 108 114 121 127 133 140 148 156 174 184 216 244 264 280+ Mondopt.
Inches 3.5- 4.0 4.25 4.5 4.75 5.0 5.25 5.5 5.85 6.15 6.85 7.25 8.5 9.6 10.4 11+ Inches
Centimeters 8.9- 10.2 10.8 11.4 12.1 12.7 13.3 14 14.0 15.6 17.4 18.4 21.6 24.4 26.4 28+ Cm.

Before you place an order for new sneakers, however, please note that in the British Journal of Urology, the chart has been denounced as a hoax. A medical study had been conducted, comparing the vital statistics of 104 male Londoners. It was found that there is no statistically significant correlation between shoe size and penile dimensions.

Interestingly, the accuracy of the chart is backed by only one argument: the chart must be true because it makes sense. Men need larger feet than penises. If they had larger penises and smaller feet, they would keep tipping forward.

1) he makes enough money to present every ex-girlfriend, from first-grade to present, with emerald-encrusted replicas of his penis.
2) he is happy, and everyone he loves and who loves him back are happy as well.
3) he has a wealth of experience to make up for lack of material wealth.
4) his penis doubles as a firefighter’s ladder.

Cast your votes now!

It’s not just oil or water you pump; it’s penis, too. I kid you not. There is such a thing as a penis pump, and it’s handy to have around for the moments when Junior fails you.

The basic penis pump is made up of a hollow plastic cylinder and a tube connecting the cylinder to a pump mechanism that looks like a pistol grip.

How do you use it?

You place the tube over your penis and hold onto it tightly. Naturally, you’d need a water-based lubricant for this. If you use it without, the pump wouldn’t have the traction required to keep it stuck to your body. Then, with the pump securely clamped on your pecker, you can start pumping away. The result is instant erection.

Of course, if you’re lucky enough to be in bed with me, you’d have no need for penis pumps. There’s no reason you’d know penis pumps exist, to begin with. In fact, when you’re with me, you might even be tempted to buy a product called:

White Rose The Jiaqi Rejuvenator Special Result Pawpaw Distillate
Guaranteed One Minutes Dispel Horniness

This amazing product from Taiwan promises “elov skin-rejuvenating o.p. c-e, skin-imitating active factor ARC and highly active Vit. E, can go into inner skin layers quickly to activate cells, dissolve and divest aged keratose and deposits within 1 minute, promote the skin regeneration and retard, decompose melanin. It may leave skin more more elastic, smooth, white and youthful instantly from inside out in whole!

Use: Days for sub-two, first shall face wetness, and weild the product gently knead, then with cleanly water washing.

Notice: Avoid into eyeball, if immodestly, shortly washing for cleanly water.”

These Taiwanese merchants are such innovative people of commerce and science, aren’t they? We all should buy their products, but not before we’ve shipped them the most patient of our English teachers.

Does Penis Size Matter?

The average penis size, according to one study, is 5.5 inches.

As I type this, I could almost hear men the whole world over sighing with relief. After all, in the grand scheme of things, 5.5 inches isn’t much; and it’s laughable, even, if you’re black.

I have always wondered why men obsess over their penises. They’d deny this, of course, but I bet they give their pekcers nicknames and talk to them in the shower or while in bed with a hottie. “Come on, Buddy, hang in there. She hasn’t come yet.”

I won’t lie to you and say size doesn’t matter. Of course it matters, in the sense that a lamppost forced into an earhole would matter. The long and short of it, however, is that size alone does not a legendary lover make. Most women still prefer being made love to, and while uterus-banging might look hot on porn movies, very few women enjoy being pounded that way.

So men everywhere, do not get so hung up on size. Unless your equipment is a tragic two-inches-even-when-fully-erect anomaly, odds are your insecurity will have bigger impact on your lovemaking than your schlong ever will. What you lack in length, you can always make up for in other things, such as enthusiasm or a clever tongue.

Okay, so the experiment went as well as I suspected it would. Maria’s mailbox is flooded with emails. Let’s meet all our prospective husbands, shall we?

Prospect No. 1 – Martin, a 44-year-old white American farmer, with green eyes and receeding hairline

Message: Dear Maria, I am very much interested in you. I am looking for a wife who wants to raise a family and help me take care of my land. Perhaps this could be the beginning of a very special relationship.

Dear Martin, I know you jerk off at the idea of land being farmed oh-so disrespectfully. I will not be farmed that way.

Prospect No. 2 – Luke, a 40-year-old white American businessman
Message: You’re a very pretty girl. Why would you want to marry such an old man?

Dear Luke, I want an old man so that I won’t have to wait long before he keels over and leaves me his property. P.S I hope you admire my honesty.

Prospect No. 3 – Gordon, a 50-year-old retired white American

Message: Hello there, you are ever so lovely. I’m lucky I just met your age requirement. I’ll turn 50 in two days. Do you get many replies from my age group? I think you and I are going to get along well.

Dear Gordon, your age group is most desperate to find a young and willing Asian bride. Unfortunately, I changed my mind last night. I want the man I marry to be no younger than 60 and no older than 75. Please email me again in ten years.

Prospect No. 4 – George, a 35-year-old black American research scientist

Message: I’m new to this site and you’re the first woman I’ve written to. I feel I had to write you because I saw your photo… and wow! I think you’re the girl I want to marry and spend the rest of my life with. I am financially stable, but I don’t meet your age requirement. I hope you change your mind about that. I never could understand why girls your age want very old men.

Dear George, for a research scientist, you’ve very poor logic. Surely you don’t believe its because girls my age love our grandfathers so much we want to sleep with one. I’m sorry. You don’t pass my age requirement. I need men belonging to that age bracket because I want to marry an ailing old man who will give me hours of wheelchair-pushing pleasure.

Prospect No. 5 – Bill, a 61-year-old white American business owner

Message: Dear Maria, you look like a delicate china doll. I’m happy you are looking for a man like me. Men my age know how to appreciate a real woman’s worth. I will never make you cry. I will never hurt you. I will never replace you with another woman. How do you feel about coming to the U.S and being my wife?

Dear Bill, men your age should be at home watching sunflowers grow. If I marry you, I’ve no doubt you’d never hurt me because I can easily outrun, outtalk, and outpunch you.

Prospect No. 6 – Dean, a 47-year-old white American entrepreneur

Message: Hello, how are you? You’re a beautiful woman. I’d like to know more about you.

Dear Dean, what more do you need to know? I just want to cook your meals and do your laundry.

Prospect No. 7 – Tom, a 38-year-old white American construction worker

Message: Dear Maria, what kind of farm did you live in and what kind of farming can you do? I like your photo. You look very pretty. Would you like to have children someday?

Dear Tom, I live in a farm with animals in it, and yes, I can farm like you’ve never seen a woman farm, sweetin’.

Prospect No. 8 – Jim, a 60-year-old retired Australian accountant

Message: Hi Maria, what are your interests? I hope you like classical music and I hope you like reading the classics, too. I’m a highly-educated man and I value a woman with a sharp mind.

Dear Jim, I’m 19. I’m strong. I just offered you life-long servitude and you want to know if I like reading Nabokov? Trust an accountant to expect a thoroughbred for the price of a chicken.

Prospect No. 9 – Jude, a 55-year-old retired pilot

Message: Hello maria, you seem to be a very humor-filled young woman. I hope I could talk to you soon. May I have your number so I can call you?

Dear Jude, humor-filled? Can you show me one line in my profile that shows I’m trying to be funny? I just offered you in-house servitude and you think it’s funny. Retired pilots have a sick sense of humor.

Prospect No. 10 – Matt, a 59-year-old divorced Protestant American

Message: Dear Maria, I like you already. I think we can have a good life together. I want to know about your favorites and interests. What books do you read? What do you do for fun? What dishes do you like best? I hope to hear from you soon. Best wishes.

Dear Matt, the dishes that I like to eat best shouldn’t worry you. I already said I eat very little, didn’tI?