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Wag the Dog

I have to brag. A friend told me tonight my embrace (probably the one thing in my dance to which I pay no attention at all) was looking awesome and like a laser and he could see the men thinking they were leading and then their eyes would glaze over and he knew who was Really In Charge.

He said he had once taken care of a very expensive trained dog for a friend for a while. He was terrified to do the wrong thing to the dog, didn't know what to do, and the friend said, “oh, just smack him around a little, he'll be fine.” So there was my friend over in one corner of a trained-dogs hotel, in the company of many other people and dogs, and all the people were running around, waving their arms, yelling, wrastling, with no control over the dogs at all, who were running everywhere and barking like mad.

“But then over on the other side there was a woman with a super well-trained dog,” he said. “And they were going for a walk, and the dog was frisking around, and all the woman had to do was give just one tiny look, and the dog instantly fell into line. You're just like the woman! The dog thinks it's in charge, but we all know who's really in charge!”

“You've figured out the secret of the sexes,” I said. “Congratulations. It's better this way. Everyone's happiest this way.”

“It's so true,” he said.  "The only person I've ever seen who could stand up to you was X,"

Well, X was the best in bed, I thought, but did not say.  It's funny how those things come out on the dance floor, I thought but did not say.  And like any bossy Alpha woman, I find it thrilling to have someone else rank me.  It's so rare.  In the meantime....

Come with me, women, and I will make you leaders of men.