Do Women Like To Look At Naked Men

everal years ago at work, a couple of other women and I got into a discussion about the naked male body. We unanimously voted that the naked male body did nothing to turn us on. We thought it boring, to say the least. We felt we were cheated.

Although, there was the photo of the naked Burt Reynolds in Cosmopolitan magazine back in the 1970s. If you don’t know who Burt Reynolds was, stop reading this. You’re too young. The problem with that photo was that he covered up his ding-dong. But we all loved the handsome Burt Reynolds anyway, so seeing his ding-dong probably wouldn’t make a difference. That magazine sold millions.

The raging feminists of the time felt that this wasn’t equality. If men get turned on by naked women, then by God, we would get turned on by naked men, and the movement gave birth to Playgirl, a magazine founded in 1973 featuring naked men. The print magazine went online in 2009 and died in 2016. During its lifetime, it reached 3,000 subscriptions of mostly gay men. Does that tell you something, guys?

If you don’t believe what I’m saying is true, answer these questions. There is a bunch of bikini thonged girls at the beach. A man in a trench coat approaches them. When he’s a few feet away, he flashes them and runs off. What do the girls do?

Yell for him to come back and do that again

Scream eewww! Then call the police.

Now, there are a bunch of beer-swigging guys on the beach. A girl in a trench coat approaches them. When she’s a few feet away, she flashes them and runs off. What do the guys do?

Yell, we’re going to tell your mother what you’re doing!

Yell, come back here and play with us!

I bet all the men passed that test.

All of you men are probably thinking, well, no wonder I get it only once a year. My body doesn’t turn her on!

Don’t worry, guys, there’s hope. I’ll tell you how to turn her on:

Buy her a box of See’s Chocolates.

Buy her flowers

Buy her a romantic paperback.\

married three days out of high school to escape my crazy mother. Unfortunately, I married my mother. The red flags showed up shortly after that. He had anger issues due to his father, but he took them out on his family. The first time he got mad at me, he said I'm going to knock you on your ass, and I guarantee if I do, you'll never get up again. He said that a lot in the beginning.

He never did knock me on my ass. He did twist my arm once because he found a bowl of moldy peas and carrots in the back of the refrigerator. Five-month pregnant me, with our second child, was lying on the floor sleeping when he came running in and shoved the bowl in my face yelling. I cried but said nothing. I could tell he felt a little guilty. I didn't hurt you that much, he said. I didn't plan to be off work for six weeks. He was on medical leave after having his appendix removed.

You might wonder why I wouldn't talk back and defend myself instead of crying like a child. Suffice it to say I had grown up an abused child. My marriage was a parent-child relationship.

We eventually had three children, and he verbally abused me and the kids for the length of the marriage: 26 years. I came home once to find that he said to our 12-year-old daughter, you're a fucking bitch, and your mother created you.

Another time my 10-year-old son greeted me home with Dad called Aaron, the eight-year-old, a fucker and a bastard.

All of our disagreements were over his treatment of the children.

For those of you reading this and thinking, I wouldn't have put up with that! I'm happy for you. You most likely weren't abused by a mentally ill mother as a child. I bet you didn't suffer other traumas in your childhood, like losing your father and older brother in an accident. You probably weren't born a meek child. I think you were born a tough cookie. We're all different.

I won't go into every detail of the miserable marriage. The first 14 years were the easiest because I kept my mouth shut and didn't complain. When I finally opened my mouth to defend myself, everything went South.

I haven't seen the ex in many years. If I could sit down to talk over coffee