Saturday, November 10, 2007
Odds and Ends- No. 1 Boom Boom Edition
If you are now or ever were an even reasonably attractive female than I can unequivocally guarantee you, for the record, that between the ages of 16 and 23 every single strange man who ever spoke to you did so in the most sincere hope than he might one day fuck you. And I don’t mean date you, get to know you, drink coffee with you or maybe even kiss you- no, no, no.
That nice old Bus driver (maybe in his 60’s) who dropped you at H.S. everyday with that pleasant smile and happy wave? Oh yes!
That kindly older man at the coffee shop who always tells funny jokes and talks a lot about his wife? Definitely!
That pimply-faced nerd who sometimes asked to borrow a pencil and later in life would help you with your computer? Damn Right Sweetheart!
The super-polite and absolutely non-threatening Doorman of your Building who’s always so very, very sweet? He’s thinking about it every time he smiles at you!
The tired looking shlub taking your application at the DMV? No doubt!
Let me be perfectly clear. I wrote that he is hoping to fuck you. I didn’t say plotting (very doubtful for this takes time, true effort and research), planning (although he certainly may be) or otherwise even half-ass scheming (this is clearly most likely), I gently stated that he is, but this is without doubt, hoping- as in dreaming, wishing and just plain praying that one great day you might in fact give him all you got and make his most humble of fantasies come true. The great good news for you is that you were, are and will always remain in the Drivers Seat regarding these almost always unreal ambitions.
Yes, we men may turn grey while waiting for that crack in the door that signals your wondrous consent as we feverishly imagine your naked flesh and hungry desire but, let it be spoken, we all share the same mind and the same biology and we will tirelessly gnaw on this bone until there’s nothing left but marrow...and then slurp the marrow.
At least until we turn the corner and another One walks by like a vision of Heaven on Earth. And there will always be corners too numerous to count with another Angel about to turn our way.
Now before the storms of Feminine outrage crash my home and bring me to my knees let me say this-
I’ve heard it all before and I know you believe that you have a point but please realize……please……….that you have already won the battle and, if you can muster even the smallest parcel of cool, you will always win the war. Protest is futile for you need only open your eyes or simply, and fondly, remember that innocent age. I bring you the Truth in its undiluted form and not the fast food PC pabulum that may have been shoveled your way.
After 23? You gotta know when to hold ‘em and know when to fold ‘em but no worries. Although we may be the ones dealing the cards you got All the Aces and most of the luck which is much more than I can say for our side.
When I was a damn lucky 34 and my smoking part-time GF was 20 we were diligently working on an Olympic sex record. I’m unsure as to whether we set or broke it but I’d kill or die today to return to that particular competition as we intensely enjoyed our very complicated/uncomplicated relationship. Once, perhaps 6 months into our courtship, as we were laying back and catching our breath she spoke to me. This was somewhat rare because English was not her 1st language and my understanding of her native tongue was far inferior to her fluency in mine.
“You know what I like about you?”
I, in fact, had no idea and tended not to trouble myself about such trivial matters.
“You never ask me, “How was it?”
At the tender age of three and a half decades I was blown out of my saddle by this achingly beautiful young girl whose experiences were obviously greatly unequal to mine yet she held my heart in her hands like an egg she didn't need.
“You mean… guys actually ask you that question?”
Somehow, looking into her shining black eyes I believed her.
She wrapped her slender sweet legs around me and laughed,
“All the time.” Then we both laughed.
To any of my unlikely virginal male friends out there- This is not the time for Q&A.
This is the time for hugging and kissing and some discreet talking, finally. If a woman is even slightly satisfied with your performance she will let you know in no uncertain terms. Relax, regroup and get ready for Round 2.
If she invites you back to her bed at any time afterwards then you, my friend, have just scored a touchdown in the Superbowl. So do the Dance.
Recently while reading comments on another blog I was struck by the number of women who mentioned that they have NO INTEREST in sports. I distrust these women.
No interest whatsoever?
Granted I understand that you may properly lack a somewhat unhealthy obsession in the history, statistics, records and the Line but……………………….
I’ve yet to meet a sex-bomb woman who didn’t at least have a voyeuristic fascination with watching powerful, graceful, godlike men heroically straining themselves in complete and serious dedication to their endeavor. Often these women offer fascinating and incisive commentary to the action. The Ex was a grand example. Almost 6 feet of luscious ass and dripping sex she was one of the best football handicappers I ever met yet she put little thought into it. She relied on intuition and, somehow, it served her well. Once, while monitoring a Green Bay/Tampa Bay contest on which I had bet heavily on Tampa, I announced to her in the heat of the moment,
"Check it out, Baby, Warren Sapps gonna drop Favre like a bad habit."
She coolly replied,
"Fat Boy Sapp couldn't drop his Mama."
She finished her coffee as the Packers finished Tampa Bay. At half-time we acted like married people and I didn't care about the game at all.
You got no interest in that, I got no interest in you and most likely we’re both happier that way. Sometimes life works out perfect.
Biology is reality and reality may not be to our liking. Men hunt, Women nest. This is as it is and most likely should be. Most likely you ask?
Because you see this Human Race we are a part of has completely taken over this Eden we call Earth and we did it even though we are definitely, physically inferior,puny even,in comparison to the violent enemies we trampled all along the way. We stand triumphantly, sometimes not so much, at the absolute top of the food chain and we ain’t even sweating to stay there.
But we’re slowly destroying this planet you say?
Thanks for the 411 Ghandi but I’m only writing about the here and now. The Nobel Prize line starts over there.
In short, Men seek out the youngest, most fertile females to mate with and procreate. This is our Biological Imperative. We are all hard-wired in this way. It is not deniable.
Women seek out the strongest provider that will allow them to create the safest home. This is OUR reality. Leave us not complain about it.
Let’s, instead, evolve while we enjoy each other and keep the bicthin’ to the serious, gender specific drinking sessions.