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?”