Killer fighting off the ladies, just long enough to blog.
I am not a pretty man. If I say this in person, people usually say, "Oh no, you are quite handsome." These are the same people who say things like, "I don't really think of you as fat." Or the ever frustrating, "If I was single, I would want a guy just like you." I have always distrusted these people. They would probably say my assless chaps did not make my butt look big. I've had 34 years to come to terms with myself, and I'm quite comfortable with looking like an angry biker.
Don't cry for me Argentina. Like a blind man compensating for his shortcomings, I have overcome. It was obvious early on that I need to build up my personality to pick up the slack. An over abundance of jolly and a self deprecating sense of humor can take a less-than-handsome fellow and level the playing field. A few well placed roofies can even tip it in your favor.
The key is patience. You can't rely on love at first sight. You have to slip in behind the defensive perimeter and before she knows it, she is on a second date with an ugly guy, and when she tries to break it off, the ability to cry on demand will buy a few more dates to work your magic.
The big problem is that I become highly skeptical when a stranger hits on me out of the blue. It doesn't happen very often, and when it has, it was typically married women, gay men, or little old ladies with broken hips. I love all these groups equally for their efforts. After an encounter I will be riding high for weeks. I often yearn to go to gay bars or bingo parlors to replicate that high.
I would like to share with you a few of my favorite such encounters.
- When I was a brand new nurse I had an 89 year old lady, whom had fallen down and broken her hip, which they appear very prone to do. I was a new nurse, so I would often sit in her room for hours talking to her. She wrote me a long, steamy note one night that stated, "If I was fifty years younger, I would jump your bones." All I thought about was, if she was fifty years younger she would still be almost 15 years older than me.
- I was living in the Castro district of San Francisco, and I was walking home one night, when a small, pudgy man was suddenly standing next to me at a cross walk. The first thing that caught my attention was that he had a riding crop in his hands and he was staring intently at me. All of a sudden he said, "I just have to hug you." Before I could say anything, or make a run for it, he wrapped his arms around me and squeezed. When he finally broke away he said, "You're just a big ol' bear. I want to take you home and whip you, bear." Then he started smacking me with the riding crop. The light changed so I started walking, for lack of a better reaction. I mean, you can't go to China and expect someone to stop being Chinese, and you can't go to the Castro district in San Francisco and expect someone to stop being gay. He walked right along with me, smacking me with the riding crop. Finally I turned down my street, and he kept going straight, but first paused to yell, "See ya later bear." I felt flattered, but dirty.
- I was in a bar in San Diego with some friends, when suddenly this girl walks up and puts her arms around me. She looks up at me and says, "I've been watching you all night, and I think I am in love." My buddies were behind her and giving me the thumbs up sign and high fiving each other. But, then she said, "If I wasn't married, I'd be all yours." At this statement there was a sudden divide in my group of friends behind her. The guys were still high fiving, but the gals were pissed. Especially one who kept giving me the stink eye and signalling for me to get rid of her, but the girl would not let go. I tried all the passive methods, I put my arms straight up so she would realize I was not involved, I twisted around trying to shake her tenacious grip, but finally I had to just physically unwrap her drunken arms and push her away. She just sort of looked dejected and wobbled away, probably to go hug the next burly guy she saw. I was thoroughly reprimanded for "leading on" a married woman, but I can't help it if she digs bears.
As you can see, it is tough being me. Maybe I should just roll with what is offered. Married ladies are probably a lot less work than the singles. All the benefits with none of the maintenance. Eventually I will be old enough to appreciate the old, broken hip ladies. Once they get those artificial hips they should be able to really get crazy in the sack. Maybe I could just switch teams and give in to the gay side. Whichever comes first.