There are several key elements to staying young and virile.
Although I haven’t got them all yet, I will have them by the time I graduate.
See, I’ve learned to be what people call an
observer. That means instead of talking all the time, I’ve learned to shut
my yap and take in what’s around me more. Learning this new trick hasn’t been
easy, and quiet people do it naturally. For one hint, let’s start with the
elevens—and I’m not talking about eleven secrets to living a rewarding life,
besides you’ve probably heard plenty if you’ve got a single gray hair.
Go ahead and check in the mirror at the top of your nose
between your eyebrows. You got wrinkles that look like an 11? No problem, it’ll
be gone in a week. If you’re really set on amazing yourself and you’ve got
itchy dry legs and cracked heels, it’ll fix that too. I’ve used it to cook with
instead of cooking oil, because it’s less calories and healthier. I’ve heard it’s good for your dry ends on hair,
although I don’t support that statement. But you can mark my words on the rest
by purchasing coconut oil. (Nutiva in a 78 oz. container from Costco) Of course if you are going to use it to cook,
you may want to consider separating into different places first. Where I have
mine is in one of those inexpensive hair-coloring bottles, so I run horizontal
lines and work it down to my clavicle. Be careful not to get it in your eyes.
Using it on my legs negates having to purchase shaving cream, plus it dries
smooth. Look at that, you’ve got me sounding like a commercial!
 |
| Beautiful and dangerous--perfect stimulus for a daring man. |
In our country, if you aren’t familiar with the term Cougar
(not the mountain lions) yet, don’t bother reading any further because you
aren’t going to get it. But for the rest of you, isn’t it sickening? When I first
heard about it I thought, “Yeah, right. As if some young stud is going to have
any interest at all in a pizza from 1984---good in its day, but way beyond stale
now.” And then to see the Cougars boldly displaying their catch on the front of
magazines or a page on the net is nothing shy of disgusting. What the heck do
the guys get out of it? Are all these women so filthy rich that it snubs out
the smell of decay? Or are these guys searching for a different frontier to
conquer—one with mysterious valleys and peaks with rugged cliffs? Are these the
same men that want a Potty-Time Patty when they grow old?
Let me explain what I learned growing up. When I was about
twenty-two and an exotic dancer, I dated this guy named Andy I met at a late
night drive thru. He was a couple of years younger than me and still lived with
his mom (she was riddled with a condition and he didn’t want to leave her
alone—sweet). He also had an interest in comic books, particularly The X-Men, without space on his wall to
spit, due to posters and paraphernalia. This was weird, however my mind talked
me down from the ledge by explaining that Stan Lee, the creator of comics was
no puppy. I forced myself to overlook more and more things until Andy called me
at the last minute to tell me he had to work late at a pizza shop, because they
were swamped. He was the first guy to cancel a date with me.
 |
| My life was centered around something more than comics. |
Following my nagging intuition, I showed up at the pizzeria
to find a lone female worker sweeping an empty restaurant. She divulged he’d
left about an hour ago to play at the arcade with his friend, Orly. Yeah, that
name should have set off some bells. The point is I needed a mature individual
and this guy was way beneath my scanner. I should have known that from the get
go, and it’s impossible to imagine getting involved with someone ten or more
years younger. We’re talking Legos now. And for those of you concerned with
whether or not I confronted him, I did humiliate myself in front of a hundred
little kids by berating him as I stood in my stiletto heels, tight skirt, and
leather jacket. I’m certain the image is still clear in some of their minds
today.
 |
| Saying "no" to a woman in stilettos is a death-defying business. |
But here I am nearing a half a century, haven’t had a
relationship for over six years, and it’s never even occurred to me I might be
missing out. And as odd as it sounds, the guys my age are mostly wrinkled and
bald with hips twenty inches smaller than their waist. They probably have
little idea if their goods are still fully intact.
After all these years someone has finally woken up Ol’
Bessy, and I’m fairly sure he’s under thirty. He’s not a seam splitting Adonis,
but he’s taller than me. He doesn’t even have neatly coiffed hair, which is
usually a necessity in my book. And he wears his pants the way kids wear them,
sort of baggy around his hips so you can’t tell if he even has an ass. So what
is it about this guy? There are three things, because I’ve given this a lot of
thought. The first is that he does more than hear me he listens to me. The
second is he has a gorgeous and sincere smile, that’s a big one for me. The
third is he carefully chooses his words. That’s important because if someone wants
to break-up or propose (just as examples), you’d sort of want him to be
cautious of your feelings, right? But there is one pretty big drawback, he’s a
technician deeply involved with—you got it—video games. But I have a healthy
fix for this, I’ve written him into one of my screenplays. That way I can still
let him save me, from a distance.
No comments:
Post a Comment