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?
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