MEMORABLE LADIES

Six women should be especially mentioned this past weekend. Because, of course, as a red-blooded male I appreciate them for what they are, and what they bring to the table.


4.

The first four are female pipe-smokers. Three of them acquired brand-new briars, all four chose pipe tobacco, and then they spent a happy hour at a table in the corner enjoying their acquisitions. I asked whether they all lived in the same place, and then suggested that they could start a pipe-club.

One mentioned that their husbands also were smokers......

No, hon, fercrapssakes don't invite the men! Men have this nasty habit of exclaiming "you're doing it all wrong, here, let me show you how...".
For the first several months keep the men out; you don't need that.

I'm quite sure they immediately grasped the concept .

There is no wrong way to smoke a pipe.

It's supposed to be enjoyed.

However you want.


Yeah, they all smoked aromatics. Which I rather disapprove of, but while the actual chemistry of taste is the same in both genders, the subconscious responses to odours do actually differ a bit. Women like certain smells that men don't like, for very similar memory reasons that males have an affection or a heightened reaction to other aromas.

For instance, I love the smell of hot tar, and mild whiffs of gasoline from a pump when someone is filling their tank. Happy memories filled with sunlight. It's keyed into my subconscious.

Do I want my tobacco to reek of either of those?

Gracious no.


Eventually we all build a mental fragrance data base that includes a broader set of references, but it has to start somewhere. Many people start with aromatics. Not all of them continue that way. Some folks eventually veer into Latakia or Virginia territory. Some don't.

There is no target on the horizon, and the terrain is constantly shifting. Tastes change over time, and it will all tie in to memory in any case.


1... 5

The next woman whom I should mention brought pie and vanilla ice-cream for all of us. Plus bonbons. In consequence of which I was high as a kite. Sugar does that. Yesterday's lunch was a dietary disaster, which I thoroughly enjoyed, today I buzzed around like a giddy bee.
Perhaps I should whack myself out on sugar more often.
Don't know. Should probably experiment a bit.
It makes cigar-smokers easier to tolerate.

And I rather like sugar.


+1=6.

The last woman I had NO significant interaction with. She was on the bus yesterday evening, and I studied her with surreptitious glances out of the corner of my eye. Yes, she's cute. And well-within the range of physical attractiveness. But the key elements I most especially noticed were her eyes (intelligent and alive behind her dark-rimmed spectacles), her nose, cheeks, and chin (very nicely formed indeed), her lips (interesting looking and unique, not the standard issue for her ethnicity), and her hands.
I think I like her hands. They taper nicely.
And they are small and cute.
Not frail looking.

Yes, I know absolutely nothing about her. She could be anywhere between late teens and early thirties. And though I took-in her physique, I wasn't looking at her figure well-enough to hazard a guess. It was primarily the face, you see. There were things to read there.
Fascinating things. Very quiet things.

I doubt that she noticed my observation.
I really tried to be discreet about it.
Observational peripherality.

She got off one stop ahead of me.

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