University is a place of growth, education and re-invention (and if that fails... pretend). By this point, I was not the same lad I was in the puberty years. I had grown up and the hormones had dissipated. I had embraced ignorance of women as a religion. There were far more interesting things around me like cameras, microphones, clubs and literature class. Who had time for women? It was during this state of educational bliss that I met “The Regressor”.
As her name suggests, she had the ability to return me to previous inappropriate hormonal behavior. If I knew what was to come, I would have continued day dreaming in that public speaking class. But I just HAD to look up from my doodling and catch eye contact with her as she delivered her speech. She flashed me a smile as she spoke which did not escape the lecturer. He shot me a stern look as if saying “I saw that, Behave!” She noticed this and giggled as she brushed her open hair away from her eyes and behind her ear (No, she wasn’t white, she just had REALLY nice hair). A few flirtatious bumps in the halls later we were an item. We laughed perpetually at inside jokes, shared intellectual conversations and predicted the directions our favorite bands would take with their next albums.
However, euphoria is short lived. It was not long before my once intellectually stimulating paramour became cold and distant. Laughter and conversation became silence and awkwardness. Then the romantic terrorism began. One day she liked me, the next day she didn’t. She’d call everyday for a week, and then disappear for two. When she returned and was greeted with my hostility, she disarmed my rage with physical acts Larry Flynt would approve of. Then the cycle would begin again. Needless to say, eventually I was back in the desert of solitude trying to understand what women want.
A few months later cupid’s poison arrow struck me yet again. I met “The Executioner”. Much like “The Regressor” she could make me laugh and keep me intellectually stimulated. But unlike the former she seemed steady and trustworthy. Little did I know that she would be the most ruthless one of them all. She gave me hope by captivating my imagination. I remember our shared romantic day dreams of Range Rovers, Riverside houses and bratty children. She made me want to reach higher and be a “grown up” faster. Unfortunately, growing up is a slow process. It takes time which she was not prepared to wait. I was booted for an older model who I assume was closer to River Side than I was. I call her “The Executioner” because her sudden abandonment was nothing short of emotional decapitation which had physical health implications attached to it.
The wise men say, “Nice guys finish last”. This is not completely true. Nice guys aren’t aware they are in a race. There was a time I thought being one was something to be ashamed of but not anymore. The benefit of having such an entertaining romantic past is it was an opportunity to learn some of the things I value most.
Today, am older and proudly dumber to that age old question. So what is MY answer the question, “What do women want?”…. There REALLY is NO generic answer and it does not even matter. For a man what matters is enjoying life, achieving your full potential at your chosen field and taking care of those you call family. Trying to figure out what women want is just a Rubik’s Cube designed to keep single men busy.
I hate these things.... They take SO long to figure out
and even after you're done
there's no real accomplishment achieved.
See my point?