Dirty Words. Love Them? Read on.
Something I love is a long drawn out cuss word lingering out of my sheepish grin.
Those naughty words settle into the bottom of my glass masterfully curated with a blend of art and take-no-shit attitude.
To practice the art of cussing is suitable for those who’re ready to light up a room with a stoked deviance from norms and a certain comfort with seduction.
The Art of Cussing.
First, it helps to flirt with your words. Find a word to toy with in your mind and toss it around in various scenarios you might to like use it…
Perhaps string a few of them together adding in an adjective here and there. It’s ok. Get a little cheeky. If you got a little blush going, then we’re in the right zone.
Your cussing is resonant of your inhibitions.
Think, 50 Shades of Cussing.
Now, we’re on track.
Get into your cussing playroom where you store up ways to be stimulated and satiate your desires. Never visited your cussing playroom before? Well, my friend, welcome.
Making cuss words classy works when it feels good to say, and it feels good to say when we associate it with something desirous and vivacious–alive and heated up.
The words we speak from contraction and tension have a rancid quality to them.
A lady knows her anger and she knows seduction. To cuss like a lady is to know the difference.
I took my computer into the shop the other day. I leaned over the counter in a way that exaggerated my plea.
The attendant matched my leaning in and says, “So, what’s exactly wrong”?
“It’s shit.” I bat my eyes.
And, let the flirting commence. The art of cussing.
I’ve been seeing an influx of f-bombs on blogs lately.
One morning where I chose email over meditation, I opened an email from a well-known business woman who littered her blog with an astounding number of cusses and I felt offended.
It was too early for this.
I needed a tender, gentle loving message. Not shocking, rocking, tilting my world language aborting me from my lovely lazy morning.
Though, she did get my attention (her job done) and I read all the way through (she’s good at her job), but I didn’t want to. Just like I don’t like careening my neck around when passing by an accident, but I do it anyway.
This cussing style of dropping f-bombs & silly-shit entertainment is not an art, it’s a bore and frankly — expected because we anticipate a cuss word when we’re frustrated, angry or tense.
And if we’re cussing just ‘cuz, well I liken that to sitting on the stoop with the neighbor kids who don’t give a damn — it’s fun, but you smell like a stale cigarette for a week.
Instead, by stroking our language with swear words, we’re invoking an impossible possibility of our innocence being tempted.
From maiden to crone, there’s good reason to master this art of seduction.
Maybe it’s just my luck I’ve got these big brown doe eyes alluding to an over-emphasized sweetness so, I’m interested in defying the laws of Pretty Language.
But, because I associate my cuss words with making love — to the words themselves that is, I love to play with them — to shift my posture to reflect the cuss, maybe it’s a slight lifting of my right shoulder, tilt of my chin and I softly say, “Well, I guess we’re just fucked”.
When language must follow grammatical rules, when women must fit into society, when the expected becomes unbearable, the art of cussing is a salvation to an otherwise anticipated exchange of commonalities.
It’s shocking to throw out an a f-bomb, it’s liberating to call out a ‘cunt’, but more often these words are without relationship to the users senses and lose their sensuality.
Instead, I protest we include an articulate arsenal of colorful language we can punctuate our life with — words of passion and love, of meaning and mystery — but, not anger and not of harm; swear words we defy rules with and make for brave exchanges to say, ‘I’m a lady of cussing’.
Originally published here