Among
my many varied and spectacular personality flaws, I believe the most prominent
is my inability to take a hint. Although it’s true men are notoriously
well-known for this personality defect, I have taken it to new heights of
cluelessness.
It’s
not intentional, it’s just that subtle hints
are about as effective on me as a pea shooter on a Bull elephant. I’ve wondered why that was and suspect it’s
because the information I received as a child is in conflict with the realities
of the real world.
I
was a kid back in the day when men were respectful of women. They tipped their
hats when a woman passed by, held doors, the ‘ladies first’ rule was in play
and sex was something that was only done after marriage.
Women
were taught that having sex before marriage got you labeled as a whore.
(Where I grew up it was pronounced as
‘who-wah’) and men didn’t date promiscuous women because they were considered
‘damaged goods’ and poor wife material.
At
this point I would like to respectfully ask my female readers to take a deep
breath and remember I was a kid at the time and also a victim. Please note the ‘children
should be seen and not heard’ rule was in effect, therefore leaving me
powerless.
Moving
right along.
When
I discovered rock and roll it became my obsession. I taught myself how to play
guitar and immediately headed to New York’s Greenwich Village to join the music
scene. Now here’s where it gets weird. Especially if you keep in mind that as a
kid I was programmed by nuns and priests in a parochial school and heavily influenced
by the heretofore mentioned chivalrous treatment of woman.
The
girls started hinting their interest in me but I never picked up on it. They’d
say things like, “My parents are going to my Aunt’s house Friday night,
probably won’t get home till late.” And I’d reply, “Hey, that’s great. We can
go to the late show at the movies!” And then pat myself on the back for
maneuvering her into some back row kissing action.
Once
I was on a date with a girl and as we sat down at the restaurant I noticed
these black marks on her arms. I
mentioned it and she waved it off and said, “Oh that. Well, sometimes the
voices make me do things I shouldn’t.”
I
nodded, said “ yeah” and asked her what she’d like to order.
Another
time I started dating this waitress in a club I worked at and she took me home.
When I got there I noticed articles clearly belonging to a man throughout the
apartment. When I mentioned it, she said “That’s my boyfriend’s stuff. But
don’t worry about it, he’s a hustler. When she noticed my concern she added,
“Really it's okay. He brings dates here all the time.”
The
next day when I mentioned this to my prostitute friend, Lori, she said, “Idiot.
A hustler is a guy who has sex with men for money. She’s banging a guy who’s
banging guys.”
Then
there are the times I THINK I’m being hinted at and am completely wrong. I was
dating this woman who, I thought, was into me. She was calling me at work to
say hello and was doing nice things like inviting me over for dinner. But when
I made a move while we were sitting on her couch in her apartment, she reacted
like I was some pervert who had groped her on the subway.
Then
there was the girl I was very much attracted to but who made it clear (at least
that’s what I thought) she wasn’t interested in me romantically. We’d play
tennis, and check out bands and go for drives, and during these occasions she’d
regale me with tales of what guys she was dating or involved with and how she
couldn’t make up her mind who she was serious about. I wasn’t the least bit
interested so I tuned her out.
I
met her years later after I had married and she asked why I had never made a
play for her. Stunned, I reminded her that every time we’d hang out she
complain bout some guy she was dating. Clearly startled by my answer, she
stared at me and said, “Yeah, I know. I was trying to let you know that I
wasn’t happy with them so you’d make a play for me. Duh!”
And
so I am seriously considering buying a cape, and a spandex shirt with a big
letter C on the chest, then, when entering a room filled with women, I will
paraphrase Underdog’s catch phrase and say, “There’s no need to fear,
Cluelessman is here!”
