-> COVER -> THE SEX COLUMN
Going to a party stag is what most Losers do, hoping to glom onto some gal-friend's best friend --- meaning somebody with a "nice personality." If you been playing this game as long as Charlie the Tuna you know that means the fat chick with a job.
You know: mixed-emotions, like one of you married guys seeing your mother-in-law drive over a cliff in your new Lexus.
There is a point of sensual and sexual pleasure to which most women don't want to go. When you start leading them there, they beg off. Or those who do succumb to the temptation to take a few tentative steps, inevitably, accuse you of being The Devil. But they chuckle when they say it.
Ahh, yes! The chuckle of women.
My topic this month comes from thinking about goddesses. And I don't mean those fat, suburban women would have gotten into the ecumenical mysticism of so - called "rediscovering the goddess" in themselves as an excuse to dance naked on hillsides, or those that have read a few pop - psyche books and decided that they want to reintroduce witchcraft (Wiccanism) into the modern world now that there's more of us Secular Humanists to tolerate their claptrap.
I think you know what I'm talking about, Fellas. The film "Too Beautiful for You" used that Babe from the Chanel fantasy commercials as their example.
I couldah done better. She's a little too icy for my tastes.
What I'm talking about is the situation where you run into a woman who is a real knock - out, almost patrician in her beauty, and when she opens her mouth --- insteaduh the usual chatter about toilet snakes and bake sales and dog grooming --- the words are as elevated as the package they come out of; you are genuinely enchanted. Catherine Deneueve and Sophia Loren immediately come to mind, in this mold, guys. Goddesses walkin' right here amongst us poor slugs.
If only five percent of the population are truly "beautiful" physically, then I gottah wager that only one percent of the population could physically and intellectually be classified among the goddesses. Which means the chances of you or me ever running into one is equal to our chanaces of hitting the Perfecta. But it happens, doesn't it?
Now if you're a crass and sleazy, low - down individual, like myself, you don't practice for or plan on meeting such a personage in your day - to - day travels. "Why bother?" you say. It's better to be prepared to deal with the usual, work - a - day goldiggers, succubi and haridans you are more likely to encounter 'cause the molds for them are far more numerous, yea, plentiful.
I spend a lot more time, personally, being angrily called a jerk or a cretin by some green or magenta haired, multi - nose - pierced, black clad ball - buster than I do being asked if I can spare a bottle of Grey Poupon by some manicured Babe in a limo, so I have to stay in shape for the currency.
In fact, it's hard enough these days just meetin' Babes who can speak and read the Queen's English and carry on more than a paragraph of conversation without
- a) saying "like" or "was all",
- b) referring to some recovery program (most often a 12 - Step deal or its variant),
- c) making reference to "ca - ca" or "poopy", like she does to her child, or
- d) mentioning what she ate yesterday/for lunch/last week.
But back to goddesses, they obviously got it head and shoulders over bimbos on the investment/survivability quotient. Talk about your irresistible forces!
But they also have the profound and added drawback of being the most dangerous women on the planet. Why dangerous, you ask me? Let's just look at what you've learned from The Expert up until now:
- * From the male perspective, "relationships" are almost always economic arrangements with the male being on the payer end
- * For all their carping about "equal" treatment, the vast majority of women take it as agiven that they are the payees.
- * Attractive women expect high rates of return based solely on their physical appearance
- * Abstract terms like "character", "integrity", "fulfilment" are used as real valuative quotients only in so far as the economic requirements (both short and long term) of the situation have already been satisfied.
In this type of situation, Fellas, we are definitely talking about not just the U.S. Prime , but Chatuaubriand.
That means you not only have to deliver in the economic and sensual arenas, but you also gottah have some redeeming social value --- like being a great opera singer, a novelist, a painter, an industrial giant or some other means of exhibiting that you deserve to pay the goddess's way through life and have her pristine hand on your outstretched arm.
A goddess requires that you be the type of man who can effect the course of nations or empires, change the lives of whole city blocks full of people, at your very whim.
That's heavy pressure, Loser.
Lemme put it another way: Helen of Troy was just a bimbo; Cleopatra was a goddess. Marilyn Monroe: bim; Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis, goddess. Princess Di, classy bim; Benazir Bhutto, goddess. Now do you understand how dangerous these women can be?
They usually aren't satisfied without goading you into proving that you are the powerful type man they need to get their clits off. Which means that somebody, usually a lower echelon bozo like your or myself there, Derek, has gottah be shown to have suffered as a direct result of the goddesses' consort's decision. Like when Bob Dole showed he could cut the jobs out of President Clinton's jobs program; you can bet your bottom dollar that there was a goddess - to - be - impressed somewhere in the background there.
She Who Must Be Obeyed.
Why I'm willing to lay dollars to doughnuts that you can go back over most of the major catastrophes of modern western history and --- giving the lie to most feminist screeds about men being poisoned by testosterone --- discover this goddess - to - be - impressed principal at work.
America's western expansion? Goddess. The French Revolution? Goddess. The establishment of the British Raj? Goddess - to - be - Impressed (GTI).
So the next time some curled lip feminist tells you how much better off the world would be if men were not so aggressive, you can just clue her in to this GTI theory of old Charlie's. You don't even have to give me credit: It'll make her madder to think that you could have seen through her perorations and come up with this insight on your lonesome.
I know that many of you are disappointed that I didn't have a personal story of some escapade of my own which might illustrate this Goddess Principle to you, but like I said, I ain't hit the perfecta yet, either. Ciao.
As always: Stay hard.