I consider the day a success because I was able to stay in the house or yard entirely. Ah, the privilege to not go, as described by (was it) Paul Newman. After you attain success in life, you don’t have to go anywhere unless you really want to. Gee, from a distance it looks like this recession is creating all kinds of success around here. Ha!
The roving Carlos called from New York. He drove up there, leaving his van in the Carolinas, ker-boom. He’s working most of the time and wants to get back from the ice and snow. Among the first things he inquired about was his barbeque. What a coincidence that Wallace and I were sizzling up steaks, pork chops and chicken. We are still new at this yet are able to produce fantastic results. Served with vegetables in dill crème sauce, baked red potato and ice cold ginger ale. Coffee and cookies for desert. It will be many months before Carlos returns, by then we’ll have our own barbeque.
Next caller was Alaine. The bike ride of last week has become a favorite memory already, and I am committed to the same on Xmas this year. The call was partly to ensure I’ll be there. Would not miss it. There is more family tradition in that single day each year than anything I ever knew. This time I’ll take the Jamus. The mountain bike is okay but it lacks comfort design. This is the 21-speed unit that can easily hit 18 mph. But you would not want to hit a Florida pothole at that velocity.
EVENING
It was a windy evening but we seem to have an area of calm on the patio. The trees have grown into a canopy, with just enough breeze to keep the cooking smoke clear of the table. And to make all the passersby jealous. The other units in the subdivision have patios, as it were, but nothing on the scale of our 40-foot treed park facing the sunsets. We told you this was the best spot in town.
We got to talking about how come a couple of bachelors like us don’t have a patio full of ladies as well. I suspect we may be too fussy, since this town is full of single women. But even Wallace has admitted there is an old-fashioned atmosphere to the whole setting. By that, I mean that women won’t make the first move. Perhaps they’d rather be lonely spinsters. Playing hard to get is not a viable dating strategy. But how does one explain that to women who think even saying “hello” to a strange man makes them “easy”.
Ladies, playing the good girl only works up to a certain age. I don’t know that age, but you are all past it. The sad news is that if you do not learn to make the first move, I doubt anybody is going to put the squeeze on you. I venture to state there is a certain effort to move in on each type of woman, and I myself know I won’t exert my brain for an older divorced woman if it is the same energy will reward me with something younger and prettier. Call me what you want, I’m stating the facts. Most of you will have to get “easier” as you get older if you want to date men your age. You are not Madonna.
That last paragraph was laced with sore spots, I know. There are types of women and types of men. Stick to your own type; opposites don’t attract me. As Rusty once said, “People are all different, sure, but after some point the similarities overwhelm the differences.” I am the first to admit that even after all my experience, I still consider physical attractiveness the primary quality in a woman; it is hard-wired. But at the same time, I do not find Marilyn Monroe and most television actresses to be very pretty at all. You don’t get squelched just for not being a beauty queen. Half the battle is getting me to take a second look.
[Author’s note: I’ve had a policy since my teens to date only women who have their own place. I dropped the requirement they have their own car merely ten years ago. I know lots of women, but [my] home is [my] refuge. I know too many men who stay at the bar till midnight rather than “face the music”. Myself, I'd find a new home where I could go and not have somebody pushing my buttons.]
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