Thursday, August 30, 2007


In looking over the stories I’ve written it has occurred to me that I may be seen as a womanizer. Nothing could be further from the truth. I have always been envious of womanizers. Something in my upbringing or in my inherited genes has always made me awkward around women, especially American women. It’s probably because I fear they can read my mind and know how much I want to get them naked in bed.

That mindset defeats a would-be womanizer.

There’s one sure thing about American women: if they know you want it bad, there’s no way in the world you’re going to get it.

Study that last phrase. It is the secret to life on earth if you believe, as I do, that sex is the most important thing in life. If you want it, you must pretend that you don’t. That is an act that I never perfected.

However glorious things happen in man-woman relations that make it all more than worthwhile. Sometimes an honest woman might come along who shows she wants you as much as you want her. Trust me, that is something to hang on to. Pursuing that avenue of mutual attraction resulted in my two decade relationship with my sexy American lady.

What could be more natural than mutual attraction? That is pure animal instinct. If the lady is attracted but hides it, she is a game player. Some game players might work out but that is a red flag.

In addition to game players, there are those who consciously narrow down their field. Read Cereal for Breakfast (below and in Best Of and at for an example of this aberration. In that story there is a large, over forty lady living in the Midwest who only has interest in meeting Jews. That is sad. But wait a minute. The cute little blonde that I mention in the same story had her own exclusions. Now we had one thing in common. We were single parents of 8-year-olds whom I was managing in Little League. Not quite enough for a lifetime bond.

She told me on our first date, in my car, just after I had picked her up, she told me, “I could never get serious with anyone who didn’t love Elvis Presley and Neil Diamond.”

I kept a straight face, I swear, and I didn’t even glance at her. I didn’t want to upset her in any way because she had that marvelous treasure between her legs that is the trump card in any relationship. Is that comparable to the “Jews only” preference above? Damn right it is.

The irony struck me of the similarity in the closing scenes of Smiley’s People where George Smiley (played by Alec Guiness) has his philandering wife tell him, “Poor George. You haven’t a clue, have you?” (Or words to that effect.) This after Smiley has crushed a Russian spy network.

I don’t compare myself to George Smiley. But I had been in a couple of wars, an occupation and several other adventures. Trouble was there was no way I could make any of that interesting to that cute blonde. I was doomed to be a boring person. Like Smiley’s wife said to him, I hadn’t a clue.


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