Why a song called, “Dick in my Nightstand” made me laugh, and then want to cry.

Kate
Jun 21
5 min read

A woman sitting on a bench with cushions, looking out of large windows covered in raindrops, at the palm trees outside.

Yup.

A song called, "Dick in my Nightstand" made me laugh and want to cry.

Here's how it went down:

It all started in the shop.

As many of my stories these days are wont to do.

There was a bit of a bitch-fest happening. Past loves, hurts, traumas, dramas, etc. and somebody played the song, “Dick in my Nightstand”, by Danae Hays.

It starts like a typical country song, twangy guitars, slow groove, mentions a Chevy, tequila, you know. The usual.

And then the chorus starts:

“I got a dick in my nightstand

I can use with my left hand

When I'm alone, it always treats me right

Never too tired on a Friday night”

Goes on to say in a later verse,

“It doesn't get mad at me

When I wanna watch Grey's Anatomy

It won't piss on the toilet seat

Or drag me to an Applebee’s”

And I started laughing, because they’re pretty common “complaints” in hetero relationships, and it’s an honest song -

But as I kept listening,

I started feeling deeply sad.

I could feel my heart contracting.

And it was prefaced by the trauma-drama-man-hating conversation that had preceded it.

Because I had been holding onto a hope, very quietly, in my heart.

I hadn’t told anybody yet.

About the partnership that I dream about and that sets my soul on fire.

(And my soul already runs pretty hot anyway. Lol)

And the only thoughts that I had after hearing that song were,

“Is this really all we see men as?

Is this really all we’ve relegated them to?”

That they can be replaced by a vibrator?

Just a dick?

Is that all we’re relegating them to?

Does anyone else see a problem with this??

It’s the exact same thing that we, women and people, have complained about men doing… that they just want Pussy. They don’t value us as people. We’re only seen as objects.

Does anyone else NOT see that this is us doing the same thing to them? That it’s just more separation and pain, and patriarchy? And blaming for wounds? And finger-pointing and the separation story we’ve been spoon-fed and conditioned to believe?

And the biggest problem?

I started to believe them.

I started to believe these stories that other women were telling -

AND.

Before I go on.

You have every right to feel the way you feel and rage and grieve and FEEL to the deepest level the depths of the pain, hurt, trauma, and betrayal you’ve faced. For the systemic desecration, rape, devaluing, and supression of the feminine that has happened over the last several thousand years.

You have every right to be pissed the hell off.

I’m not supporting spiritual bypassing, and I’m not saying you don’t have a right to be heard or to feel what is true within you.

What I AM saying is that complaining, finger-pointing, and re-iterating our pain and disempowered stories isn’t productive. It also isn’t conducive to building love and connection and understanding, which is what I’m committed to - and I think what most of us want at the end of the day.

Like we want to be HEARD and SEEN and VALIDATED, but we don’t want to LIVE there in our past pain!! We want turn-on and juicy freaking connection and aliveness!!

Don’t we?!

Anywho.

I started to believe the stories of pain, and the stories about men that these women were saying.

Started to take them to heart…

And I could feel my quiet little dream I had been holding onto start to flicker.

And get smaller.

And smaller.

The hope I had to really be in love with someone special. Whose physical touch and intimacy, YES, I would enjoy, but also his heart. His courage. His playfulness. His smile. His vision. His laugh. His outlook on life. His perspective, his dreams, and his wisdom. That I could be inspired by the partner I was calling in, in an intimate partnership that would be passionate, compassionate, kind, loving, and supportive…

That we would be the wind in each other’s wings -

It slowly started to shrivel.

So I stood at the bus stop after work, feeling heavy. Confused. Disappointed. Disheartened.

And thinking that:

“Maybe I was an idiot for hoping for something better.”

I pulled out my phone to, seemingly, distract myself, because, hey. That’s a depressing story and narrative to be living in and who wouldn't pull out their phone?!

And an email came up, from Magick and Witchcraft Academy, about their latest interview with a certain Taylor Ellwood titled, “Reclaiming Sacred Masculinity”.

And I nearly started crying.

I read her (Astrid’s) take on the conversation, and personal takeaways and notes, and I was reminded of something that is also true:

People are out here doing the work and standing for a different future.

Of all genders.

Yes, there are people who will be reacting from, and re-enacting pain and painful patterns,

AND.

There are beautiful, courageous people who are out here doing the work, even when they have no frame of reference and it feels like their worlds and worldview are being turned upside-down, or having the “rug” of their reality being torn from under their feet.

It’s disorienting.

It’s uncomfortable.

It’s unprecedented.

And if this is you, I acknowledge you deeply.

Because it’s still not a common conversation, and it’s a deeply courageous act to grow, and show up, and take a chance on a different future and doing things differently, even if you don’t know where the hell it’s going to lead.

So, thank you Astrid, and Taylor, for this brilliant and beautiful conversation.

And for a friend who made a post not three minutes afterwards about the power of the stories that we tell ourselves…

And that we get to choose.

So what stories are you choosing to tell?

To believe?

To perpetuate?

Even if you don’t have any evidence for them, yet?

Because this series of events gave me hope, and was a potent reminder that:

The Universe always has my back. Like I could NOT make up the timing on this shit!!
Know what I know. Just because other people have certain truths or beliefs, doesn’t mean I need to take them on.
Hold steady and keep the faith. That what I want also wants me, and there are people out here on the journey if I’m willing to reach out and see them.