When I am writing about women and relationships, I always start every post with a disclaimer that I know nothing about women and, for the most part, they acknowledge that I know nothing about women and usually make a comment regarding my intellectual limitations which make it impossible for me to ever know anything about women. All of that is about 50% the truth and 50% me making fun of myself. I have been married to three wonderful women for over a total of thirty years. I have to know something beyond how to piss them off which I’ve got down pat.
Sadly, I am in a familiar place right now, alone. Not really alone; I have my Emily, a seven year old miniature schnauzer that Arleen rescued when she lived out in the country. She is very good company and a pretty demanding woman, too. But she is no substitute for the companionship of a woman who for whatever reason and sometimes reasons unknown wants to be with you. As I contemplate whether or not I am ready to seek the company of a special woman, I find myself thinking about all of the things that made my wives and women friends with whom I’ve had lasting friendships the special women that they were and still are.
With every one, a little romance went a long way. I’ve had a full range of reactions to my attempts to be romantic. I have gotten a little mileage out of writing poetry. When I won a Mother’s Day radio contest with a poem about Mimi, she would have kicked down the Gates of Hell and spit in the Devil’s face to prove her love to me, but also, I have been told, “Save that shit for the paying customers.” The problem with trying to be romantic is that they know you’re trying and then they’re trying to figure out why your trying. That can’t lead to anything but confusion.
It is really the simplest of things that deliver the best message – I love you. If you ever had your bedroom over a garage in Cleveland, OH during the winter, you know there is nothing better than snuggling. Unfortunately, my feet would turn to blocks of ice in late November and not warm up until Mother’s Day. That led to a lot of “Don’t touch me with those feet.” That situation required too much concentration to be able to get the max comfort……
Which is obtained in either Position A, which has a head on a shoulder, an arm across a chest and legs sort of intertwined or some spooning. In either case, it is the simple act of initiating the engagement that, frozen feet notwithstanding, says a lot with a little. And all that led to this –
No need to serenade her with a song
When it’s your touch that she wants all along.
You’ll make everything right
When you reach for her at night…..
She’s thinking, “What the hell took you so long?”
Do not think that just because I have been married three times that I know anything about marriage or women. I would never be so bold as to suggest that I do. As they say, “I may be dumb, but I ain’t stupid.” And a man claiming that he has expert knowledge of the two aforementioned subjects would be profoundly stupid.
I only have to refer back to what may be the stupidest thing ever written in the English language -“Love means never having to say you’re sorry.” (Of course, the author of this was an enormous commercial success pandering this stupidity) Come on. Every man that ever considers marriage or a committed relationship should be forced to read “Apologizing and Groveling For Dummies” Ask any woman. They will not only agree with my opinion of that quote from Love Story, but also offer some sort of take that would go something like this – “Love means not screwing up in the first place so you don’t need to beg for forgiveness, you moron!” (Feel free to insert the universal adjective when quoting me – for the record, all my wives did!) As I have said repeatedly, if I had a dollar for every time that one of my wives or girlfriends called me an idiot, I could live comfortably on the interest.
I had the misfortune of walking in on a couple of married friends of mine who were lighting each other up with full force. That’s not exactly true. She was deploying a scorched earth offensive and he was in cover your head, duck and run mode. I couldn’t back peddle out of there fast enough…..then I called my buddy and told him that things would get better and soon this would be behind him. His reply. “When?” ….. and it led to this –
When you follow her orders half assed,
You know her tirade’s gonna come hard and fast.
There’s really no telling
How long she’ll be yelling
And it ain’t history until it’s in the past.
So there’s no putting it behind you until the smoldering dies out as it can, and usually will, burst back into flames. I recommend flame retardant underwear.
WARNING – Some material in this limerick may not be suitable for anyone who has not been called an idiot by their wife/wives or girlfriends.
Which is something that has been a pretty regular occurrence for me in my thirty years of marriage to three wives and my relationships with my many girlfriends when I wasn’t married. I would venture to say that if I had a dollar for anytime a wife or girlfriend called me an idiot, I could live comfortably off the interest.
I like sex. Always have and always will. But as I’ve grown older, I have found that I just don’t have the same level of desire and energy to make it happen. If it comes my way, I am not going to turn it away but is not something that I am going to put a lot effort into to make happen where it was once something that was a hot pursuit (pun intended.)
I once wished women would want to screw me.
Not a priority now that I’m sixty three.
I’ve even debated
That pussy’s overrated….
And not all that it’s cracked up to be!
As I said before, I am not a sports bettor except when I am in Las Vegas. This is why. I can’t take it if there is a reversal of fortune on a meaningless play or a bounce of ball. And that stuff happens all the time…AND it always happens to me. This trip was no exception. Except that I made an exception to my personal policy and made a large bet, actually the largest total sports bet I ever made. I bet my Clemson Tigers which is something I never do as there is a risk of a double heartbreaking loss. I had $100 on Clemson, $50 on Temple and a $100 2 team parlay Clemson/Temple. $265 risked with the vig and potential $410 payoff. Both teams I bet on are good teams playing very well and they were playing fair/bad teams playing bad. But the teams I bet on found a way to make negative plays – both C & T had interceptions at the worst possible times – that affected the outcome of the bets. That stuff can send the unstable gambler straight to the roof and only a tout with a sure thing can talk him down.
After licking my wounds and pissing away the push money on the Clemson bet in a slot machine, I thought about the error of my ways and it led to this……
A bad beat gambling can sure kill a buzz.
Then you dwell on “What If’s,” not “What Was.”
Losing scars you for life,
But how you lose twists the knife……
If the losing doesn’t kill you, the “how” does!
I am not a gambler. A couple trips to the track and an annual buddy trip to Vegas. That’s it. I am not a sports gambler except when I’m in Vegas. I like to shoot craps but it is an easy come (no pun intended) easier go game with large minimum bets and lots of dice rolls per hour. That is too much disaster exposure for me. I like the horses. You can make small bets and there is twenty minutes between races. Though there are lots of tracks going at the same time so you can go as nuts as you want .
Vegas – one of the world’s most dangerous places
Where losers walk around with long faces.
To limit my remorse
I’ll bet a little on a horse
And there’s lots of time between races.
Call it risk management. Horse handicapping requires skill. You have to be able to analyze data from past performance and try to have a predictive model using variables that carry weight based on how the individual handicapper values them. I am a connection bettor. I like trainers and jockeys. When I am at the track, I like the eye test. I like to look at the horses in the paddock and see who is alert, who looks like a Marvel Comic Superhero horse, who looks like they would rather be somewhere else, who wants to do the Mr. Ed and tell me they’re going to win (I’d settle for a wink). But there are many variables to look at and that is the fun of it. That and the name bets and silk color bets that come in once in a blue moon.
If I pick a winner, I’m tickled pink.
Handicapping requires you think.
Not my strongest suit
So with my pony pursuit
I’m at the paddock looking for a wink.
Wanna guess how many times that happened?
This post comes after three days in Las Vegas. I was with two of my closest friends and we had a blast though there were no gambling winners amongst us. We spent our days playing horses, went to a couple of shows at night and watched more than enough sports on television. And, of course, we played too many slot machines (though I was ahead on them until I dumped a last $100 in one late Saturday night) and we had the “mandatory” and “legendary” dinner buffet at Bellagio, who humbly calls it the world’s best buffet. More on that shortly. Certainly, such activities are rife with material for limericks and some got written.
Let’s start with the dinner buffet. One of our triumvirate is a more discriminating diner than the other two which included me. Mucho picky and finicky so this venue is not good for him and he was taking one for the team, but not without spicing up the conversation with sarcastic smart ass comments about his buddies’ choices at the buffet. At one point we inquired if he tried any of the fish, crab legs or shrimp to which he replied, “Nothing good can come from eating seafood off a buffet.” And that led to this….
The buffet is fine dining the Las Vegas way.
But if you eat fish that sat out all day,
You’d have to be pretty dumb –
Nothing good can come
From eating seafood off a buffet.
When I was in the sixth grade, fifty one years ago, I took dance lessons as part of the right of passage into becoming an awkward teenager. Thirteen is a big time age for Jewish kids. It’s Bar and Bat Mitzvah time and that means lots of parties with dancing, so my mom sent me off to Carlos & Kay to learn how to trip the light fantastic. I am happy to say that I am glad she did. I can still do the same “jitterbug” steps I learned way back then and that are now being recycled as “swing dancing.” I know this because I have taken some swing dancing lessons with a friend and it was nothing more than a refresher course for me.
I do like to go out dancing. It is good exercise, music is good for the soul, and it can be the beginning of a beautiful ending for a fun night out. Back when I was at Clemson, they used to say this about the dangers of dancing-
Q Why don’t Baptists fornicate?
A It could lead to dancing!
I was meeting someone for a little swing dancing recently and she asked me what my favorite type of dancing was not counting a certain step that she was certain I was proficient at and that led to this…..
This might sound like a Freudian Slop.
I’m a dude who can dance ’til I drop.
I’ve become quite adept
At my favorite step….
I love doing the Horizontal Bop!
I was recently introduced to woman at a social engagement. We seemed to hit it off and during our conversation, I came to learn that she had a Facebook page. Since I use Facebook to build a platform to promote my limericks, I went to her Facebook page and sent her to a “friend request” so I could invite her to “like” the An Answer For Everything Facebook page.
She did not accept my “friend request.” Yet. She told me that she was playing the “girl card” which I took to mean using a woman’s prerogative to “think about it.” Hey, I would think about it too before I publicly became friends with me….and that led to this…which I sent to her…
I am impressed with your “girl card” play.
I like a woman who wants things her way.
But just to be fair,
I have a “stupid man card” tucked away.
Roger Cohen and I go back over 50 years. He is amongst my oldest and dearest friends. Never lost touch. Had incredible adventures when we were young. Roger is a true mensch in the purest sense of the Yiddish word, a higher compliment I couldn’t give a person.
And he is also a liar. That may be too harsh a word. Let’s go with delusional. He is a junkie. His drug is football and football handicapping. He studies, he is knowledgeable, he understands all the mathematical angles, he’s an expert in every sense of the word when it comes to betting on football, but the most significant factor here is that his heart doesn’t start beating until he’s put his money where his mouth is. At least that’s been as long as I’ve known him, not counting yesterday when the Wall Street Journal had nothing better to do than publish my dear friend’s delusion.
Before I go any further, I need to be able to describe Roger’s capacity for delusion. It goes deep. All the way to China deep. He goes into every new NFL season “knowing” what will have to happen for his beloved Cleveland Browns to win the Super Bowl and with his heart full of “faith” and “hope”. The Browns are more in need of “talent” and “coaching.” But, for the record, as a Clevelander who grew up going to Browns games with my dad on the bus and then the Shaker rapid, froze at the Raider’s game and once used the stage name Pruitt Candoit, nothing would be more fun than for Roger’s dream to come true.
Back to Roger’s contention that he has given up betting on football…..
A good buddy claims he quit betting,
A claim I bet he’ll be regretting.
Without action on a game,
It just ain’t the same…..
And a winning bet, you ain’t soon forgetting!
Especially the thrill of being right one of the few times that you are
Well, it seems that marijuana is here to stay. It is the D.O.C. of many baby boomers and now their kids, It is legal in two states and California has medical marijuana. The tobacco industry is poised and ready, just waiting for the winds of change to put them in the pot business. It could happen. Democracy is a fickle thing sometimes. And you have to know that pot has a lobby and a PAC.
And stoners vote. If they can remember there is an election. And where they put their car keys so they can drive to the polls if they remember there’s an election……I am pretty sure they have a slogan – Cop That Buzz.
Beyond that, I don’t think stoners are giving it much thought…and that led to this….
Is there an intelligent form of life out there?
I don’t think stoners really care.
As he passed the joint,
He asked, “What’s the point?”
And I thought there must be a point out there somewhere?
For the record, the stoners’ essential question is “Are going to smoke that or pass it?”