At the back of the hill

Warning: May contain traces of soy, wheat, lecithin and tree nuts. That you are here
strongly suggests that you are either omnivorous, or a glutton.
And that you might like cheese-doodles.
Please form a caseophilic line to the right. Thank you.

Saturday, June 23, 2018


My colleague asked when the last time was that I had a girlfriend. That was eight years ago, before Savage Kitten broke up with me. I explained that while nookie was a good thing, a man should not jump on opportunity, but exercise discretion. What if, I rhetorically wondered, the opportunity was an unsuitable match? Someone who through no fault of her own would drive one up the wall by her further presence, or eventually bore one to tears?

There have been women in the past eight years who have expressed an interest. All of them have been fairly gently pointed in other directions, except for one dense person whom I had to dissuade rather firmly.

[And there was also the waitress at a Chinese dining establishment I frequented who considered me a perfect match for an unmarried friend of hers, and asked if I would be willing to meet that person. Indeed I would, I said, and I never went back to that restaurant again. Because I knew that I would be quite unsuitable, regardless of the woman in question, who might have been very nice indeed. The expectations of a lady from Hong Kong who thought and dreamed in Cantonese would never match the disquieting actuality of a middle-aged eccentric who expressed himself best in English, read peculiar stuff, and swore in Dutch (which is my other fluent language). That I also spoke Cantonese should not have been considered a major factor.]

Relationships, one understands, can be a loaded gun. I would describe myself as voluntarily celibate. My life has been and continues to be peaceful and good, even though it's nookie-free, and I do not want this applecart overturned by a female bull rollicking through my china shop.

A woman with enough discretion and subtlety to appreciate the delicate balance (or is it 'delicate balancing act'?) would be exceedingly nice.
And yeah, I don't know any suitable female eccentrics.

She would have to put up with dust, clutter, books, and lovely porcelain pots, bowls, and vases. In addition to stuffed animals and a primitive totemic carving of unknown ethno-artistic derivation, of a nautical type.
He has a cowrie-shell necklace, and looks grim.

You may think that describes your unmarried cousin Mabel to a T.
Or Irmgard, Gertrude, Iolanthe, Jocasta, whatever.

All of this relates to a Facebook entry.

I statussed: "According to a couple twenty years or so younger than myself, my date life should be optimal. Great head of hair, lovely goatee, trim, and intelligent. They forgot 'avuncular', nice inoffensive old geezer, and creaky."

Sarah commented: "Yes, but what about ‘reeks of pipe smoke’, and curmudgeonly?"

I averred that those were positives, darn it! To which Maya responded by promptly adding two more positives, namely armadillos and bats.

So, in short: a creaky smelly grouchy Dutch uncle who likes animals. Feel free to share that with your unmarried niece. She'll probably have a good laugh before clobbering you with furniture and dancing on your grave.

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