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Men A Pause PDF Print E-mail
Written by Deborah Hamlin   
Sunday, 10 January 2010 23:19

I’ve had it.   I really mean it this time.   I have given up on men.
After the inevitable crash and burn of every relationship in which I’ve ever been, I always swear I’m through.   But this time?   I mean it.   It’s either give up men or become a lesbian, and I’m not quite ready for that.   What can I say?   I’ll always like beef better than seafood.
 
So yet again, I have sworn to absolutely, positively avoid all men forever.   And yes, I can almost hear my best friends and sisters groaning with frustration because it’s not like they haven’t heard that before.   Only this time--I mean it.
 
I know dating can’t be easy for men either, but come on!   It’s not like all we have to do is wear a push up bra and lip gloss and we snag a man….oh wait, yes we do…….
But that’s beside the point.
 
I joined yet another on-line dating service and received over seven hundred views of my profile in two days.   Wow!   I was comfortable knowing that I had many, many choices.   My question is, why is it every time I have the pick of the litter, I still end up with the runt?
 
Even without the help of an on-line service to help me destroy my faith in men for only $36.99 a month, I can manage to do it all on my own for free.   I have sat in many a nightclub, dressed to kill, and not leave any witnesses, and it’s always the same thing.
 
I sit at a table with a drink in my hand, knowing that I’m being sized up by the livestock gathered at the bar.   It never fails that a couple of men notice me, and I can see one nudging the other and pointing at me with everything but his finger.   I can hear the hushed voices as one keeps urging the other to approach me.
Finally, he swallows the last of his drink and does his best John Wayne stagger toward me, with a Clark Gable grin.
 
Then for some reason, from the time he leaves the bar to the time he reaches my table, his tongue swells and his lips go numb, because once he begins to speak to me, it is completely unintelligible.   Either he says his name is Steve, or that he’s a thief.
Either way, it never ends well.
 
The first man I dated immediately after my divorce was slightly older than I--If you really want to call 36 years a 'slight difference'.   I was 37 and he was 73.   Yes, that’s right.   Older than my father.   I must say, I never met anyone who could recall the invention of the television and the Great Depression.   My only contribution to the conversations was, “I remember when The Love Boat was prime time.”
 
Anyway, nice enough guy, but people weren’t very understanding about a much older man with a younger woman.   I got tired of people high-five-ing him whenever we went out.   To this day, I still think the older men dated me because of their late-life crises.   And quite frankly, I could barely smell the Old Spice over the Ben Gay.
 
At one point I tried younger men.   I mean really younger men.   Half my age younger men.   I was officially a cougar.   They loved my experience and maturity, but they always called me “Dude”, and it’s hard making out with the sound of a thousand electric guitars blaring from their car stereo.   To this day, I still think the younger guys dated me because I could actually pay for the beer.
 
The only difference between the younger men and the older men is that you can see the tell tale shape of a condom through the wallets of the younger ones, which is replaced with the shape of Viagra pills in the wallets of the older ones.
 
So where does that leave me?   Swearing off men.   Again.   Only this time, I really mean it.
At this point, what do I have to lose?   I remember when I went out with a guy from Alabama.   He told me he had a special night planned for our first (and last) date.
He took me to the dog races.
Oh, it was special all right.   He let me pick the dog.
 
Then there was the guy who wanted to take me hiking.   To his deer stand.   Now, I like the outdoors as much as most people, but I am no country girl.   There’s a reason the outdoors are outside.   Anyway, he was a good ole country boy, and I am just not into country boys.
He hunted deer.   I hunted bargains.
Their reaction to finding a big buck in the woods is like our reaction to finding the shoes we love on sale.
 
And one thing I’ve learned about all men is, even the manliest man out there would rather take a bullet in the groin than to look a woman in the eye and tell her, "it’s over".
 
It’s not like I haven’t tried hard to impress the man in my life.   I once tried that old fantasy of going to his house with nothing on under my full length coat.   I stood in front of the mirror and tied the coat tightly around my body to make sure that not a hint of skin showed.   I smiled at the thought of his reaction.   What I did not think about, however, was the reaction I was going to get from the state trooper who pulled me over on the way back from his house.   But that’s another story.
 
Anyway, I am done with men.   Done.   And I mean it this time.

Just as soon as I come back from my date tonight.


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Too Funny!!
LadyDrummond - 01-24-2010 05:40

Laughed all the way through your piece! Bravo to you from all the women of the world with a brain ... which come to think of it sits as a crown over their other body parts! Just read a poem by "Mean Dean" lamenting over women not wanting to bop like bunnies and his tireless search for a bunny/homo-sapien mixture :) Says he finally found a Southern Belle that doesn't say "NO." I'm afraid I left him a lecture rather than a comment. But in truth, they can't help themselves ... they are simply hardwired to spread their seed and if they can't it starts to get really ugly :) Anyway, kudos on your sense of humor and hope your date actually looked in your eyes when you conversed. B)
DARN....ANOTHER SEAFOOD "WELL DONE!"
Mean Dean - 01-11-2010 09:23

:evil: Good grief...I thought I heard the eye of the Moonmen of Moonbaby click, as they fantasize about you wearing a "push up bra." The betting is that you will be unable to breathe. Ahhh yes....another tasty dinner with a "Stud-Muffin" & "Scintillating Seafood." Too many tales of "Where's the Beef," & too many tails of "Where's the Reef." Nightclubs in LA & MS are highly suspect, as the herd mentality/maturity priorities there are REAL beef & seafood. Those Dudes are unable to combine wonderful looks, speech, humor, confidence & charisma enough to impress a woman of your wisdom & background. Oh well...swearing AT, is easier than swearing OFF! C'est la vie :whistle:
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Last Updated on Monday, 11 January 2010 08:12