Why so serious?

Why Do Women Wear Men's Shirts In The Morning (Post-Copulation)?

What is this phenomenon of girls wearing man's shirt in the morning (especially after sexual intercourse)? Films, photographs, and advertisements use this 'thing' so often, what message does such image try to convey? And does it happen in real life? If yes, then why? Is it due to blindly absorbing the influence of all-consuming mass media? Or does TV and Internet scoop it from the life and psychology of ordinary people for the sake of stuffing them full of something they already have/did/do but from the angle of 'I GIVE you an omelette, you know very well how to make it, you told me how to make it, you might be even sick of it, but you eat it as if it's a unique delicacy and then you try to reproduce it in your kitchen’? (HA-HA! What a fucking stupid fool you are, aren't you?! Hey guys! Look at this female ape wearing the male ape's shirt? HAHAHA)  

Well, who was first, the media or the people, it's quite a 'chicken or egg' question so let's move on and go back to the question why it exists. Googling this sentence I found a few options, so here they are:

‘'Officially' when a girl has sex, it is a big decision...By putting your shirt on, she tells herself that she is comfortable with you. She tells herself that you have the necessary qualities, habits and personalities which will allow her to feel at ease and somehow justifies the sex with you.'

'There's no special reason behind this thing. They should have something to wear on. And as they find boy's shirt easy to wear and also long enough they will put it on.'

‘She’s putting her scent on you and you don't know it, to ward other females off, your mine, smell me, this is why they wear perfumes and deodorants and stuff'

'we love wearing guys shirts, especially if they smell good, plus they are big, comfy, and it’s just this thing in our heads, we just gotta do it, next time just remember to bring and extra shirt (plus she probably wants to see you walking around shirtless' 
('it’s just this thing in our heads' illustrates the zombification of TV + naturalness of mammals of this type to mark their territory. As one of the comments said 'leave the scent')

'Smell of the shirt, which was on the man before sex – there are notes of his excitement and thirst for loved body'

‘Have you over-watched enough American movies? Women should wear overlaundered robe and the mother-in-law’s briefs' (from one Ukrainian forum)

'It looks really cute and sexy'

About this 'his smell' thing. If sex has happened after a date, and a date happened after working (usually stressful) day, perhaps he didn't get a chance to take a shower ( even if he did, there are still lots of sweat-provoking events ahead), then it is unlikely that he will smell sweet or sexual. (Well, as an option it will be a poisoning doze of cologne which will mingle with his natural stench to form something not at all attractive). During the actual date he might sweat too (especially if the date starts in restaurant (adhesive cooked meat odours) and somehow continues in a club, both places you two are definitely going to have a drink, meanwhile the sweat after the alcohol is becoming more tense) and during the foreplay and surge of adrenaline his body will produce a few drops of funk here there before he'll take off that precious shirt. And then, in the morning (I don't know, maybe by that time the entire stink of yesterday's sweaty-day has vanished?) she irresistibly gets into that stinking piece of cloth? Have you ever thought why men (again USUALLY) never wear the same shirt for two days? For fuck sake, even they don't want to touch their own shirt simply because it smells bad.

About this ‘to leave the scent' thing. I guess here we need to look at the degree of development of one or another woman, and how much the unconscious animal instincts govern her. Answers like 'it's comfy' are clearly lies that demonstrate the wild roots of this act that in fact would whisper in her ear something like 'C'mon! Piss on that shirt! Just a bit. Piss in his shoes! Piss on his neck while he asleep! Piss all over him! Piss! Mark your male! MARK! PISS!'

And what about girls that are not really skinny-dwarfs, or guys who are not muscle giants? Or the couples that are pretty similar in constitution and height? I'll give you my own example. My husband and I are both medium size, of course men’s shirts are made a bit differently but it's pretty much the same. So if I'd wear his shirt I'd shine my vagina and it would be chilly. (Although I do wear one of his shirts but just because I like the shirt and I wear it outside). Honestly, even after our very first sexes I never had a need or desire to do so, just because I think it’s lame and why would I do it? 

Ultimately, I believe that this phenomenon is nothing but an imposed (and irrelevant today) label, and I do not think that many really do it. A mythological element in tales about the relationship after sex. Same as passionate kisses in the morning, and the courage to share stinking breath, and other particles of something unpleasant created over the night. But that’s for another post. Cheers! 

Another Week Day Poetry: Your Breasts Is The Best But Your Brain Is A32 Size Tumour

Your titties will get shitty soon,

So play again the song you like to croon.

Your posture will get shrunk one day

And skin will be as wrinkled as shar pei.

Your titties will be hanging on your knees

And no one will be willing for a squeeze,

Your charming bum that jiggles on the go,

Won't do it all the time, you know...

Beside all that you'll die. And probably in pain.

So please make sure your titties weren't here in vain,

When you'll be suffering in smelly, pissed, old bed,

Make sure you'll think 'life wasn't really bad'.

«It's sweet, long life»,- you'll say without shade of doubt,

Well yeah, until you really think about,

About inescapable, yet simple trick of fate,

My dear, your titties will get shitty soon or late.

Monday Poetry: Blue-Blue, Cold-Cold Sky

Look at the blue-blue, cold-cold sky,

It wouldn't pretend, wouldn't fake it, wouldn't lie,

If it wasn't so, clouds would rather be slow,

But there are no clouds at all.

If there was at least something, it would be a different day,

Different time limits, different universe, different dogs to pray,

There may not be cigarettes, thou might be absent too,

What can I possibly forget in such place without you?

There could be some fun, immortality, few new games to play,

As a tourist I'd try, but I'm not sure I'd stay,

Who made it up? What is this place where you can't even die?

I don't know, I think I'll go for 'Blue-Blue, Cold-Cold Sky'! 

To my dearest man-boy M.

P.S Just in case, there is no mistake with the dogs.

Spontaneous Tuesday Poetry: The FB Wall Sodomy

The information you spread is pretty boring my dear.

Are you trying to hurt me or simply to jeer?

For those who asleep or those who are warring

Every fucking day, every fucking morning.

The information you share was digested awhile,

It can't shock any more, cannot touch or make smile.

It just brings irritation or some kind of a bile

And it sounds like - No way! What a clever fucking style!

The treasures you've found, about art, past and youth,

About power of nature or night sky on the roof

Doesn't attract and tastes like a spoof

Because all of it, simply leftovers in truth.

To be dumb like a stone and as mole to be blind,

How does it feel? What it is like? 

To catch tiny reflections of another man's mind,

Does it make you feel proud of your glorious kind?

Crying Fool

Lately I've began more and more to pay attention to women with a comic point of view. Some of my friends, or just passers-by, repeatedly give me ideas like "Oh, this feature could be used so funny ..." For example today on the street, I saw a girl my age who actually provoked and inspired me for this post. She was peroxide blonde, with that lollipop type of figure (or maybe a panda ice cream when it’s not only the head but the body and the head of a panda on a stick) when the legs are thin-thin, and on top of them planted quite oval, a bit fat body, short neck and a very round head. However the most amusing was the fact that she was very sad, even tearful. For sure I sound a bit harsh, but she's the only one who fascinated me. Even my 11 year-old niece has an absolutely ridiculous voice (Seriously, it sounds like a grown male trying to do clearly unnatural high, squeaky, begging voice). Don’t get me wrong, I don’t laugh at other people’s shortcomings (I don’t think of them so, but fine, let's call them that), I see them as privileges, like special highlights that are not given to simple and thus more of a mortal peoploids.

Inability to laugh at yourself generates more reason to take offense at others, thereby isolating you in the list of "those with whom you cannot joke." (Well, okay, we can have a good time without jokes. Without even a single joke in your direction. We can read a book. And even better if we do it separately. Everyone alone at home. Mmm. I bet your friends truly hate you).

 I believe that the biggest mistake of most women is fear to look silly, to be a little fool, this frantic mania to fix yourself, to repair, to replace, to hide, to become a role model, what a fucking waste of time. However no one even thinks how funny it could be the way it is. (Hence: laughter is positive, you make people laugh, they like you for it, they add you to friends and they like your photos, and there is no need for the 57th photo with unfunny ducky face). Of course there is a side where a woman wants to be a simply beautiful woman, because the devil editor of a women's magazine said so, but ... oh my God ... I cannot refute this ... something’s not allow me to ... ah, it's just that chip integrated in my brain that controls me, so then I won’t think too much and won’t say anything wrong that could affect the sale of the magazine.

Anyway, whether it is a big nose (potato type, pear type, eagle, slightly melted Toblerone, it doesn’t matter, I love big noses) plompy silly cheeks, Excessive thinness, extra folds (simple love handles and complex handles), a large height and clumsiness, small height and funny bouncing gait, risible voice of any kind, speech defects, nationality, your life, manners, and even personality traits that somehow annoy or amuse others. Add to this a little observation of yourself and the outside world and in theory the golden key is yours. All this (and more) is priceless, I think. As long as you are able to notice it in yourself with humour and take the piss out of it (so that no one else can do it with you again * tear *).

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