Tag Archives: Mother’s Day

What My Mother Taught Me About Being A Better Man (With Roller Coasters)

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Whenever I get a little personal on this site, I often focus on two topics. One is how awful high school was for me. The other is how awesome my parents are. I’m sorry if it sounds like I’m bragging, but I’m just being honest and truthful. They really are that awesome and I intend to belabor that every chance I get.

As it just so happens, Mother’s Day is tomorrow and since I have such a wonderful mother, I’d like to share a personal story that I hope conveys a larger message about masculinity, in general. I promise this isn’t going to be another complex exploration about bogus topics like “toxic” masculinity or double standards. It’s just a simple story about my amazing mom and how she helped me grow into a better man.

There are a long list of stories I could share. Some of those stories I’m sure my mother would prefer I kept private. There are plenty others I’m sure my mom would love for me to share, if only to document some of the more memorable moments our family has shared over the years. Since I know she occasionally reads this site, I think she’ll agree that this is definitely one worth sharing.

That’s because it involves roller coasters. That’s not some elaborate metaphor. I’m dead serious. This is a story about me, my mother, and roller coasters. It’s kind of what it sounds like, but I promise it has other, more meaningful connotations that I think are wholly appropriate on the eve of Mother’s Day.

First, I need to provide a little context. This particular moment occurred when I was around ten-years-old. That’s relevant because that was the age when I was finally tall enough to ride most of the rides at amusement parks like Six Flags and Kings Dominion. As it just so happens, both are within a two hour drive of where we lived.

My mom, being the wonderful person she is, used that as opportunity to plan a day-long trip to Kings Dominion. I went with my younger brother, my aunt, and a cousin of mine. It was blazing hot, but being an energetic kid, I was too excited to care. I don’t even remember complaining with my mom urged me to put on extra sunscreen.

After spending about an hour just exploring the park, doing some small rides and playing some games, we came across a roller coaster that, to my 10-year-old mind, might as well have been Mount Everest. I’m not saying I was an overly fearful kid, but this was uncharted territory for me. My first instinct was not to go on such a ride.

To some extent, that was my default instinct to that point in my life. I know kids at that age can be both frustratingly reckless or annoyingly helpless with very little in between. It’s an age where kids still cling to the safety of their parents, but are just starting to feel that inclination to explore the world.

I was probably more reluctant than most kids my age. Both my parents and siblings would probably admit that I was a very self-disciplined kid, often to a fault. I did not like going out of my comfort zone and taking chances. I even complained when I had to, as kids are prone to do.

On that day at Kings Dominion, though, my mom gave me an extra push. She never shoved me or pressured me. She got encouraged me, getting excited about the ride so that I got excited too. Before long, that excitement overrode any fear or reservations I had. Thanks to that encouragement, I went on the ride with her and to this date, I feel like that was a pivotal moment in my young life.

At the time, though, it was just an incredible thrill. I loved it. I loved it even more than my mom promised. I remember getting off that ride, feeling dizzy and unable to stand. I probably looked like I was drunk, but I didn’t care. I had so much fun and so did my mom. We went on that ride again.

It was the first of many. From that day forward, my mother and I became the roller coaster aficionados of the family. Whenever we went to an amusement park, be it Kings Dominion, Six Flags, or Disney World, my mom and I would jump at the chance to ride the biggest, scariest ride. Sometimes friends, siblings, and cousins would join us. Other times, they would chicken out. My mom and I never did.

Those were wonderful times. They’re among some of the fondest memories I have with my mother as a kid. Beyond the thrills and adrenaline, though, I find those experiences had another effect on me. This effect was more personal, though. It also played a major part in the critical, yet often treacherous process of a kid growing into an adult.

By taking a chance on those roller coasters, doing something risky for once, my mom taught me a valuable lesson about being an adult and a man. She showed me that sometimes, we need to embrace a little danger. We need to leave the safety of the familiar and explore new, potentially hazardous experiences.

That kind of mentality takes both bravery and even a little foolishness. It’s a combination of traits often associated with masculinity, being willing and able to take those risks for new and exciting experiences. I’m not saying that men are the only ones who have such risk-seeking behavior. Women can be every bit as adventurous, as my mother so aptly demonstrated.

For me, the ten-year-old boy who still saw himself as such, those experiences marked the early steps of a more profound maturation process. It wasn’t just that I was now old enough and tall enough to ride all the roller coasters at most theme parks. I realized that my experiences didn’t just have to be kid-friendly experiences.

I could take chances, venture into once-forbidden areas, and explore life in ways I hadn’t dared. Doing that can be scary and sometimes requires a little encouragement, not unlike the kind my mother gave me that day at Kings Dominion. It can also be very rewarding, as the rush from an awesome thrill ride so wonderfully proves.

I was still a shy, reserved person, even as I entered adulthood. I still took longer than most to emerge from my shell. However, thanks to my wonderful mother and her loving encouragement to try out a few thrill rides, I understood what it meant to be an adult and a strong man.

To my mother, and all those wonderful mothers who encourage their children with the same love and care, I thank you. You helped teach me how to be brave, how to embrace the adult world, and how awesome roller coasters are. For that, I will be forever grateful. To her and to all the other mother’s out there, Happy Mother’s Day!

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Filed under gender issues, Jack Fisher's Insights

Sexy Sunday Thoughts: Mother’s Day Edition

Today is a very special day. Today, we give thanks to the wonderful women who enjoyed having sex enough that they lovingly conceived us in their wombs. Yes, it’s Mother’s Day. Then again, anyone who willingly carries another human in their bodies for nine months deserves way more than just a card and breakfast in bed.

No matter how you spin it, moms are a big part of our lives. Why else would MILF porn be so popular? Moms give birth to us. Moms nurture us. Moms willingly let us suckle on their nipples and receive nourishment. They are the only ones who can actually make tits more amazing than they already are. That’s an accomplishment.

I love my mom. I try to make that love and appreciation clear every time I see her. She’s been a wonderful influence on me my whole life. Considering that I was miserable, self-loathing little shit at times, I can’t help but marvel at the breadth of such love. She really is that amazing. No offense to Gal Gadot, but she is the real Wonder Woman of my life.

She knows what I do. She’s been very encouraging since I began writing all those years ago. She, my father, and my family have given me more support than I ever could’ve hoped for as I pursue my dream of being an erotica/romance writer. So to my mom and all the other wonderful moms out there, I thank you.

As such, I’m proud to dedicate this week’s edition of Sexy Sunday Thoughts to my mom and all the other moms out there. Thank you for giving us life. Thank you for having the sex that conceived us. We hope that was an especially satisfying experience, just as I hope these crude comments are especially funny.


“The sight of boobs makes boys hungry as babies. The sight of boobs makes men act stupid as adults. Does that count as irony?”

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I’m not sure if this counts as irony or a paradox. Maybe it’s a fluke of biology or part of some deep-seated psychological imprint that develops in the minds of men. Maybe it’s just our caveman brain’s inability to differentiate between hunger and horniness, which I’ve talked about before.

Whatever the case, the results are the same. Boobs make baby boys hungry. Boobs make grown men act stupid. When I was in New York City last year, I walked past a number of topless women in Times Square. I could feel my brain power temper so that it could process the beauty of expose breasts. Ironic or not, men think boobs are awesome at any age is what I’m saying.


“Those who say sex is an itch that needs to be scratched has clearly never had a nasty mosquito bite on their balls.”

I’d rather not go into too much detail about this. There’s a reason I know what it feels like to have a mosquito bite on unusual parts of my body. I do not want to tell that story. I’ll just say that those who make light of a mere itch are woefully misinformed about how sensitive certain parts of their body really are.


“Massages can be equally sexy for both genders, but they’re always more messy for one gender in particular.”

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Who doesn’t love a good sensual massage? It’s one of the few sexy acts that can be both deeply romantic and overtly pornographic. It has everything you need for sex appeal. There’s intimate touching, relaxing sensations, and plenty of potential for romantic affection.

If done right, a massage can be an orgasmic experience and then some. That said, it can get messy, especially if you’re very generous with the massage oil. It also tends to get messy for one particular gender, namely the one that requires tissues and baby wipes. It’s just basic biology.

Ask anyone who’s had to clean up that mess though. They’ll say it’s worth it.


“A man can’t say he’s in love with a woman until he willingly buys her tampons. A woman can’t say she’s in love with a man until she willingly fixes a toilet he clogged.”

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There are many ways to test just how in love you are with your partner. Having similar tastes in movies, food, and underwear certainly help, but true intimacy can sometimes manifest in less obvious ways.

The way I see it, if you’re willing to accept the less flattering traits of someone, then your love definitely has some meat to it. A man who buys feminine hygine products and a woman who deals with a man’s bathroom habits can rightly claim they’ve achieved a level of intimacy that goes beyond rubbing body parts together.


“A true test of trust is letting someone else shave your pubic hair.”

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Think about it. Shaving your nether regions is a dangerous and risky endeavor. One wrong move and your weekend is ruined, among other things. It’s hard enough to trust your own hands to tend to your most sensitive body parts. Trusting someone else to do it takes something special. It’s actually kind of romantic when you think about it.


“When a woman flashes her tits outside a strip club, is it undermining the efforts of hard-working strippers or does it count as free advertising?”

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This kind of confuses me. When I was in Las Vegas, there was a topless woman giving out flyers for a strip club. She had great tits herself so it seemed kind of redundant. Why advertise for something in a way that gives the customer what they want from the outset?

Then again, maybe it was a free sample of sorts. Maybe that woman understood that when a man sees one pair of tits, he wants to see more. In that sense, her ploy was pretty brilliant.


“Would prostitution be less taboo if they were reclassified as sexual trainers?”

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There are all sorts of taboos surrounding prostitution. When you’re the world’s oldest profession, the simple law of averages ensure it’s bound to happen. I get why women wouldn’t want their lovers to see prostitutes. It works the other way too. I’m sure men don’t want their girlfriends drooling over male strippers.

So rather than make this another source of conflict, why not turn it into something productive? Why not reclassify prostitutes, male and female alike, as trainers with which we refine our sex skills? The prostitutes get money. Ordinary people are trained by professionals to make love to our partners more effectively. Everybody wins.


Once again, thanks to all the moms out there for being the wonderful women they are. If you can, do something special for the woman that bore you. She’s more than earned it.

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