“You know you want it…”

I was depressed and had a headache for the first three and a half years after she decided a fifty-plus year-old skate boarder was what she preferred after 21 years of marriage to me. I mean—isn’t it against the law to sell skate boards to people over 20?

If it isn’t it ought to be. I mean—a fifty-something skate-boarder?

Like I said, at about the three and a half year point I woke up one morning and the headache was gone. I lay there half-listening to the clock radio and decided I must have passed some sort of mile-stone. It seemed like a good idea to quit drinking, stop living on apple fritters and ice cream and eat a normal diet. And I joined a gym—being 5 foot eight and weighing 240 pounds suddenly didn’t seem like a good thing.

Especially in view of the fact that all of a sudden I wanted a woman.

Busy with work, busy with the kids and their activities, busy with looking after the house by myself—no time to put together a social life. I decided to do the on-line dating/relationship thing.

There’s very clear-cut protocol in the on-line relationship community.

God help you if you get caught lying about your age—there is no region of hell too remote, wretched or hot enough for a microbe like you.

But, most of all, the basic premise the whole institution of on-line relationships is constructed on is (I learned very quickly) all men a woman meets on line are absolutely, positively, 100 percent axe-wielding psychopaths who rape little children to death and keep severed heads in their freezer.

There is no discussion here—no chance that this notion could be a bit over-the-top. Every single man a woman meets on line are all those terrible things and much, much worse until proven otherwise.

Nobody seems to have explained to any of these women that real-life psychopaths almost always come across as very pleasant, sweetly vulnerable guys who can easily charm awoman. I read somewhere the way you want to come across on line is very breezy—like—life is no big deal—in other words laid-back and confident. Psychopaths are past masters at this stuff while the average poor schmuck who’s stupid enough to acknowledge he’s a bit lonely and in need of some caring, gets shit-canned at warp-speed.

After jumping through the secure email hoops, then the regular, unsecured email hoops, it’s time for the phone calls. There’s this phone game that slips into high gear very quickly—I call it Reciprocal Fantasy—“I’ll feed your fantasy if you feed mine.“

Now in playing this game you can’t be too graphic but typically there is always this sexual undercurrent and double meaning swirling between the lines and in back of your words.

Guy: “So, Susie you went to the theme park with the kids over the weekend?

Girl: “Yeah—the kids had a ball.”

Guy: “Cool—reminds me of when I was in high school. There was this amusement park dark ride we used to go on. I really like dark rides, but, you know—with the right girl—you can’t always tell until in the beginning—before you enter the darkness—if the girl is right…some girls are afraid of the darkness—not really ready for it and yet…they want it…really, really…want it…I mean…they know…what’s coming.

Girl: Uh-huh…

Guy: “I mean we’re still getting to know each other Susie but I just have a sense that you might…be the right girl…

Girl: Uh…yeah…

Guy: You know—Susie–it’s a… feeling at first—feeling is good—before you enter—as the doors spread open and you… go in. Ride timing is important…not too fast…not too slow…although slow is good…

Girl: “Uh-huh.—I like…slow.”

Guy: “I love a new ride—don’t you Susie?—the first time is always so—delicious—that first incredible feeling as the doors open wide and you go deeper and deeper into the darkness—all…the way…in…until you can’t go any deeper.

Girl: “Yeah…deeper.”

Guy: You know Susie—I can ride all night—I mean—with the right girl, I’m up to it–I can never …get…enough. I just keep riding and riding—most girls aren’t—up to it—and they just…get …worn out.

So the big day arrives—you’re gonna meet this girl you’ve been doing this Cyrano-de- Bergerac-riding-a-unicycle-on-a-high-wire act for, for the last two months and it’s time for a meet at a neutral PUBLIC location (usually a Starbuck’s in a mall the size of Kansas).

Typically in these scenarios the guy shows up wearing a college tee-shirt even though he graduated 20 years ago. He’s detailed his car to within an inch of its warranty; he’s got condoms in one pocket, Viagra in the other. The woman shows up at the coffee shop (which, by the way is located 8 time zones away from where she actually lives) wearing a push-up bra with a can of mace in her purse. She’s told 35 friends where she’s going and taken out ads in at least 4 newspapers.

The game is played entirely in her court. She is checking out the guy’s wardrobe, haircut, manicure, state of observable health, breath odor, teeth, shoe-shine, posture, stride, muscle tone, how he relates to the waiter, eye-contact, sentence construction, skin-tone, presence/absence of tattoos, scars, presence/absence of piercings, hairline, hair color and /or any other identifying characteristics.

But most of all she is looking for the slightest flicker of uncertainty on the guy’s part. Months of tap-dancing, self-re-invention, reading up on whatever sport or social issues she’s interested in, bending over backwards, courtship, mind-reading and clairvoyance can all go down the drain if she smells fear or any lack of confidence.

And after all this it can all come down to something like whatever you enjoy doing in your spare-time.

You might want to consider taking up skate-boarding.

FacebookTwitterDeliciousGoogle GmailGoogle ReaderDiggShare

Leave a Reply

CommentLuv badge