At the back of the hill

Warning: If you stay here long enough you will gain weight! Grazing here strongly suggests that you are either omnivorous, or a glutton. And you might like cheese-doodles.
BTW: I'm presently searching for another person who likes cheese-doodles.
Please form a caseophilic line to the right. Thank you.

Wednesday, January 30, 2013


A conversation recently turned to a discussion of the other gender, as such things sometimes naturally do. We men are often fascinated by the gentler sex.
I had to confess that I did not have a huge amount of experience, as since becoming an adult I've only had two relationships, both of which endured for years.
So seeking my advice on the opposite number would be rather pointless.
Especially to a young man having women troubles.
As many young men seem to have.

I do not have women troubles, I haven't dated anyone in a long time.
An extremely long time.
Not that I haven't wanted to, but I haven't found anyone whom I like enough who isn't already involved in a relationship.

It is not that there aren't any lovely likeable women in San Francisco, it's a question of meeting someone whom one can trust as well. A wonderful relationship cannot be based on superficial socializing and opportune nooky.
It absolutely has to be deeper than that.

This strange inspiration of mine also explains the complete absence of any nooky whatsoever.

Unlike many youngsters, I'm just not that desperate.

Far too many "amorous" relationships devolve into sticky situations, coupled with anger, recrimination, and meanspiritedness. As well as viciously unpleasant quarrels, and possibly public embarrassment.
One can blame unbridled sexuality for that, as were it not for hormonal fits and moments of weakness, neither party would have made the decisions they did.

Now, you might think this is merely sour grapes on my part, given what I've mentioned about the lack of any naughty behaviour in my life. But I am no longer an idiot teenager, so the concept of jumping at any old chance for heavy petting just isn't part of the programme.
With maturity came a certain amount of common sense.
Call me a dried-up stick insect if you must.

Sex remains intriguing -- I am a man, after all, I cannot help it -- but the grand operatic disasters of other people's love lives that result in public scenes, tossed out possessions, and unbalanced behaviour, are sufficient object lesson that I shan't make any stupid moves myself, nor advise others to do so.
No matter how strongly either prospect tempts.
I don't like street-theatre that much.

Rather than relying on sudden flashes of sheer magnetism, which seems to be the most common coupling dynamic, my idea of what should lead-up to a possible relationship is a friendly encounter, followed by coffee (and a cookie!) somewhere, lunches or dinners together, visits to the library, more coffee (or tea) and cookies, exchanging books, and maybe spending time just walking. If, during the course of those events, growing friendship turns to love, splendid.

But the friendship has to be there first.
Without that, nothing else can, or should, happen.

A while back someone suggested that in order to meet women it would be a darn fine idea to join a church. An absurd and crazy proposal if ever there was one.
I am far too much a cynic to even consider that; if I cannot believe in a deity, or the ridiculous voodoo ceremonies of most creeds, how on earth could a decent relationship ensue from such a false start?
By the same token, joining a health-club is out of the question, likewise taking classes at the local college for that purpose.

"Hello ms. Smith, like you I also am fascinated by Sylvia Plath!"

I cannot imagine myself uttering that sentence without busting out in a fit of hysterical laughter. Unless it happened during a course in literary-psychology, and ms. Smith was of the opinion that Sylvia Plath was a sexually frustrated goth-neurotic, and vastly over-rated besides.
Well-nigh unreadable.

You can see that this is not likely to happen. And because I do not frantically search out new acquaintances, the scope for anything similar is limited.
A pity, but I cannot be anymore social than I already am, and given that I cannot stand team-sports, basket-weaving, handbag shopping, hip night clubs, drunken orgies, Sylvia Plath, or religious rituals coupled with lutefisk (church suppers!), and never go to parties OR poetry readings, the chance of this blogger ending up in a relationship is not that great.

If it happens, I shall be mighty pleased indeed.
If not, I shan't be surprised at all.

I've always got my books, my pipes, my enormous stockpile of pipe-tobacco, a number of good friends, my various odd interests, and my collection of shrunken heads.
And I live in a city filled with fascinating things.

"Hello ms. Smith, can I offer you some of my tobacco?"

"Do you ALSO have a collection of shrunken heads?"

"Care to discuss the Plathster over some coffee?"

NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.


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