All I Know About Women, Part Two

Hi.

Tough times in America, huh?

Especially for comedy writers.  Who can compete with the news? 

Congressman Weiner is busted for sending pictures of his [don't say "wiener"] to -- hello??? -- at least six women. 

Talk about losing your sense of Huma.


Nobody can make up stuff funnier than that. 
Or more sad.

Not to mention Arnold, who Terminated his marriage. 
Tell me he's not going to regret that for the rest of his life. 

And for what?  I've had sex.  (Although my memory is fading.) 
You've probably had sex.

One thing is for sure.  A few minutes/hours/weekends/years of pleasure is not worth the destruction that it causes outside of marriage.  Love what Solomon says about adultery: "He who would destroy himself" does it.

Amen.

***

All I Know About Women, Part One


OK.

This will be short.


Walked by a beautiful woman in a summer dress and almost high-heels.  Her hair was the color of [Yeah, like I remember the color of her hair.  Are you serious?].

Anyway.

She paid me as much attention as lovely women pay the average chubby old guy in a goofy work vest.

Know what I did as I passed her?

Burst into subdued laughter.

Honest.  Just couldn't help myself.  Is that sick or what? 
The very definition of "uncool."

Better than approaching her and mumbling a few incoherent words that would prove beyond any doubt whatsoever that I was totally dumbstruck by her looks.

Better to be thought a giggling fool than prove it.

As I did when my dad and I went to Olive Garden in Chattanooga.

The hostess was the most delicious item in the restaurant. 
Blonde.  Not young.  Just right.

Walked by and said at her: "Do you have any idea how gorgeous you are?"

Thank God she didn't pour a bowl of salad on me or beat me to death with breadsticks.

She just figured two old men were out for a romp and that we were quite harmless.  Maybe even sincere.

She kindly smiled and thanked me. 
The way pretty women smile at screwy old men.

She had nothing to lose.
Why not smile at an old man?
And accept a compliment.
A truthful one.

**

All I Know About Women, Part Two

Rode The Bike to Dahlonega last Saturday to enjoy the free bluegrass music on the square.

(In spite of the deaf mandolin player who has mastered exactly two notes and incessantly plays them with a fervor worthy of the final set in a 70s Who concert.)

Spied a cute lady on a bench. 
Seat next to her was empty. 
Did it.

Asked if I could sit down.
She broke into a huge smile and said, "SURE!!!"

As only an 83-year-old woman with a husband nearby can say it.

Cathy.
Fun.

Heard all about her first husband's tragic death.  Where she lives.  How much cedar paneling there is at her place.  All about where they live in Florida and how the canal near her house is almost dry.

Listened as she told about what she and her husband did the night before and how they were going to "jam" that night and what they were going to have for dinner the next day.  About her hardwood floors and when she was going to refinish them.  And where her husband would be as she cleaned the house.

Just.
Stuff.

And I loved it.

Listening is a joy that I do not indulge myself in enough.
A priceless treasure we can all afford.
If we're willing to pay the price.

Hope to see Cathy again.  And hear what's happening.

She doesn't know me.
Might never see her again.
But I'll bet she "likes" me. 
Just because I enjoyed listening to her.

That.
Is all I know about women.

Guys, if you find a lady you enjoy listening to ... you have a jewel.

If you cannot listen to your lady.
Or will not listen.
You are going to miss out on more than you can imagine.

Even if you'd rather be fishing, watching [insert sport here] or spending quality time with your friends seeing who can burp the loudest or spit a watermelon seed with the greatest accuracy and/or distance.

***

All I Know About Women, Part Three

Meanwhile, back at the bluegrass concert...

Walked to The Bike to grab a couple of bottles of water for Miss Cathy and myself.

Saw a Cute Young Couple (CYC) walking almost hand in hand.

He could have.
Wasn't bright enough.
Walked ahead of her.
Wonder why???

*
In Dahlonega, pedestrians have the right-of-way at crosswalks.
Cars yield.  Mostly.

But I'm sure there's a headstone nearby that reads:
"Here Lies Elmer Farnsworth, Who Had The Right-Of Way."
*

As the CYC walked toward the crosswalk
with The Guy in the lead
a car came to a stop for them.

Brakes squeaked.
Not terribly loudly.  Not terribly expensively.
The brakes squeaked.  That's all.

The Guy spins around and tells his CYC counterpart

(sheesh)

*everything* he knows about brakes.

"That's only dust on the rotors!"  And on and on and on.

The History of Brakes, beginning with the discovery of the wheel.

As I walked behind them to rejoin Cathy, I could feel The Girl's pain.

If she asked The Guy what time it was ... could she endure hearing the History of Clocks until dark?


Every lady reading this right now understands.
Don't you, ladies?

This happens to you all the time.

Guys try to impress you by blathering nonsensical drivel ... trying to show you how smart they are.

If guys only knew what to say. 
Or not say.

After years of personal failures
I want to share this lesson
with my fellow blatherers.


Her Statement:

"Squeaky brakes!"

His Appropriate Replies:

1)   Yeah.
2)   I'm sorry.  I didn't hear them.  I was thinking about something you said last night ... that reminded me of why I love you.
3)   Yeah.  Let's get some chocolate.
4)   Yeah.  Let's get a pedicure.
5)   Yeah.  Hey!  Look!  That store is having a shoe sale!  Let's go!
6)   Yeah.  I'm glad our brakes are OK.  I love taking care of you.
7)   Yeah.  Say, I wonder how your mother is doing?
8)   Yeah.  How does that noise make you feel?
9)   Yeah.  I'm glad being with you isn't like that.
10) Yeah.  I wonder if they'd let me put new brakes on their car ... like I did when I was in the Alps and helped those nuns in that decrepit old van.
11)  If you were a car, what color would you want to be?
12)  Please don't ever put the brakes on our love!


The most wise among women see what others missed in this reflection.  And what I felt myself.

The Guy was with The Girl.
I was alone.

And I wrote 1,000 words giving *him* advice about women.

Wonder if I should read more about brakes and clocks?