Archive for February, 2012
There was a time when a man was expected to have a matching hat – usually a fedora – for each suit. The hats were custom-made and required regular maintainance at the local haberdashery. According to the men of the time, the hat was often considered a nuisance because they were expensive and when the wind was blowing, required one hand to hold on to the expensive accessory. So, like spats and cravats, the hat fell out of favor with men. The baseball-style cap I simply discount as they are so ubiquitous and so plebian.
Three weeks ago I was at the local church’s annual rummage sale. There, I picked up some things for my swingin’ bachelor pad. I also bought two hats. I’ve never been much of a hat guy because my head is, well, huge. Finding headgear that fits has always been a challenge for me. Buying a motorcycle helmet is an epic struggle. Normally, a double extra-large fits my noggin but sometimes that is even too small. So when I find a hat that fits, it’s quite unusual. At the rummage sale, I actually found two hats that fit. At only a dollar a hat, I bought them both.
One hat is more of a hipster-type thing. It’s got a modest brim all the way around with a fedora-type crown. It’s brown and made of tightly woven flat straw. The band is red and blue with a “Red Guitar” plastic icon on the band. It somewhat resembles this:
This hat I wear in the evenings after sundown. It’s not formal headgear like a homberg or a bowler. Yet it’s perfectly sufficient for a stylish statement to set me apart from all the dudes wearing those awful baseball-style caps.
The other is a Panama hat. It’s tan and with a wide brim, perfect for the hot Florida sun. It looks quite a lot like this:
This is my daytime hat (not at work, obviously) when I walk into the village, Lucy my dog on her leash. With some cool sunglasses, a nice shirt and jeans, I cut a fine sartorial figure when compared to the usually very casual (re: slovenly) dress that is the norm in these parts.
Since I’ve started wearing these hats, I’ve noted that people treat me differently. Perhaps my willingness to stand out gives me more confidence and people are responding to that. Perhaps it’s the actual hat and the fact that it’s unusual for a man to sport one. At a recent party, my hat was quite the hit and the topic of conversation and even a bit of envy from the guys.
Just this past evening, I was out walking Lucy and ran into three female friends, two of them I have not seen in a while. With the dog, the hat, and my mood, the indicators of interest where quite high. It was remarkable.
I think for my next hat, I’ll buy a fine red Fez with an elegant gold tassel. No, I’m not getting a huge, furry hat.
This comment was recently made on one of my older posts. It’s kind of long so I have redacted some of it to get the juicy bits. The phrase in bold stands out as the money shot.
I agree with almost every thing in this blog post, especially with regard to masculine & feminine.
HOWEVER, with regard to the idea of “women should give and their men will give back to them” …that has always backfired on me. I am a woman and tremendous giver. It is my natural state to give. I am this way with all my friends, my sister, even strangers. I am a nurturer. However, in all of my relationships, I wind up being a life coach, secretary, housekeeper, social events coordinator, loan officer, mother and resume editor and a whole long list of other “jobs”…while the guys give almost nothing back and to top it off are barely ever “in the mood”. I get sick of begging for “it.” I can’t understand how anyone only wants to be physical once a week or less often. Then I get fed up, depleted, exhausted and end the relationships. And they are always like “what?!?! You’re unhappy?!?! Why didnt you tell me?” But the thing is I did tell them, explicitly (as in: I need this, please do it…usually relating to screw me more often or at least let’s go out sometimes or get your life together, I cant keep being responsible for all our decisions and financing them)….but apparently, my being unhappy and telling them how to fix it, didnt bother them. But when I dump them….then it’s you’re the most amazing woman. Please come back. I am so sorry. I should have treated you better….blah, blah, blah. But by that point I cannot imagine being with them as I am so thoroughly done.
The other one (5 yrs older than me) was never in the mood…I think he just had low libido from what he told me about his past relationships.
I am very often the essence of “too nice” and all I get for it is taken advantage of (financially, emotionally), neglected or taken for granted. Now, none of these guys ever yelled at me or hit me or cheated on me…but I still wasn’t treated “well”…I was always giving, desperate for their attention (physical or verbal).
So I am honestly asking PM and the men of this board….please decode this for me…I have a long history of I give, they take…how is the “be giving and he will give back” idea going to work for me?
This one is actually pretty easy. She was being giving and supportive in order to receive attention. A good man would recognize that and would not exploit her desperate need for attention. But she’s picking the wrong guys. She finds guys who do exploit her need for attention. Hell, she’s in New York City, an exploitative place.
This is one where she needs to be more open to different types of men. Actually, she needs to be less giving. Oh, the irony!
[Note: A nicely prolific commenter, DC Phil, has described a real-life scenario where he requests some righteous Manosphere input. His email is below. He cordially asks for your wisdom.]
I met a woman, whom I’ll name just C., in late August of last year. Blonde, 38, professional (worked for the EPA), relatively unassuming, intelligent, owned her own home, and very good-looking for her age (svelte with a tight ass and, age-adjusted, a solid 7 in my books). C. and I met through OKC and, after the requisite “getting to know you” emails, we met at the one park near my place in DC for a chat. No cost and at a place she had never been to.
From there, we met for a second date. I took C. to one of my favorite jazz clubs and, though she wasn’t much of a jazz fan, liked the atmosphere. From there, we walked to a park area to talk some more and I went in for the kiss, reading her signals correctly. C. was a bit shy because, as she said, this was a bit “too public,” so we relocated to somewhere more secluded and began a heavy make-out session. That was all for that date. (Clear signals that she was DTF.) Third date, her place and her bedroom. This happened all in the space of two weeks.
From mid-September to early October, I was heading to Romania for three weeks for a much-anticipated vacation. (The first time I was in Europe since late 2009.) I had a great time over there, seeing many interesting things, spending quality time with lots of comely young Romanian ladies and managing to bag one of them (about 24 or 25) in Bucharest. During this time, I emailed C. a couple of times, giving her brief updates and telling her that I’d be coming home with travel stories and renewed vim and vigor. She was looking forward to both.
When I returned and was at her place, I made sure to bang her vigorously to reestablish my presence, and then we talked about my time in Romania. I told her that I found the country to be very interested and a bit of a refresher from the same-ol’, same-ol’ in Western Europe. I also told her how I was amazed to see how many Romanians are still thin and look very well, especially the women. (Typical Eastern European women who take better care of themselves than North American women. I had seen it for myself!). I also told her that I had about 12 hours to kill in Amsterdam on my way back and tried to amuse myself in the city — unsuccessfully, as most everything was closed — for three hours. Finally, I got so bored that I returned to the airport and slept until it was time to board my flight. I mentioned how dead the Centrum was and how the reports were true: i.e., the red-light district is but a shell of what it once was.
Now, fast-forward to early November. C. begins to pull away from me, but is still a bit cordial. Sexy time had ceased and this was the lead-up to the eventual heave-ho, which I got the week before Thanksgiving. She invited me to her house for some pizza and Scrabble, then broke the news, after we finished the pizza, that she didn’t want to see me again. I didn’t ask why and left after I finished my drink. She drove me home and gave me a hug. That was that. I gave her kudos for sending me packing in a dignified and respectful manner. The other woman I had been seeing earlier in the year did it via email.
Though I’ll never know the real reasons why things fell apart, I have my guesses:
1. I mentioned the girls in Romania. Mind you, I never said anything about how hot I thought they looked, nor anything about the 25 yr old I bagged. I’m too smart for that. But, maybe just mentioning how thin everyone looked over there set off some insecurities in C.
2. I mentioned the red-light district in Amsterdam. Probably a big no-no.
3. All during the time we were seeing each other, we spoke on the phone only once, and barely texted. Mostly email. C. didn’t seem all that communicative other than when we were in each other’s presence. She also never initiated communication. I was the one who always send the first text or email, or made the phone call.
4. Though C. owned her own home, she spoke as if she had bitten off more than she could chew. Though she made good money, she had wound up sinking $30,000 in a 1935-era house that required a lot of work. In my mind, a bad investment. She talked about her house and the money she spent, but I showed little sympathy. Maybe she was miffed that I wasn’t rationalizing, for her, a bad investment decision. (Better that she had bought a newer condo.)
Just my thoughts. I’m over C. now. She was one of the best and the sex with her was very good. Just a learning experience. Oh, yes . . . I should also mention that she lived all alone in her 3-bedroom and 2-bathroom house with two cats and fed the local strays.
[Note: It's the winter blog-posting doldrums here in the Manosphere. With that in mind, I offer up this older post that should resonate with the guys and offer up some lessons for the ladies. I posted this about a year ago and have made a couple of minor edits.]
The word “chemistry” the most overused word in all the online dating profiles. This is especially true for the over-40 crowd of women. They all so desperately seek chemistry. I am quite tempted to include a photo of a chemistry set in my online dating profile with the caption, “Look ladies, I gots da chemistry!” I doubt anyone will get the joke.
Chemistry for a woman is her conscience acknowledgment that she will have sex with you. That’s all there is to it. When she feels chemistry, her vagina tingles and she’s mentally planning a sexual encounter with you. Men aren’t the only ones thinking with their reproductive organs. If you connect with her on a more intellectual and emotional level in addition to the chemistry, she’s not only planning for sex, she’s planning her new life with you.
It has been said that a woman knows within the first few seconds of meeting a man that she wants him sexually. Sadly, I can’t vouch for this. I do know that the demands for “chemistry” are omnipresent in the online dating profiles. I would say that women want to know within the first few seconds of meeting and they actively look for men who would make them feel the swift torrent of sexual desire on the first meeting. This is what the whole first date bullshit is all about. She wants to know quickly and efficiently if you are a potential sexual partner.
Before you get all excited about the prospect of sexual chemistry, you have to understand that even the most sexually liberated woman isn’t going to welcome you into bed on the first date. Consider the awesome power of social expectations. A nice lady doesn’t jump a man’s bones unless some element of the dating ritual is completed. And while she might know in the first few seconds of the date that there’s going to be some nookie at some point, she is not going to reveal that fact overtly. Proper ladies of a certain age don’t do that sort of thing. Oh, there will be only passing discussion of the hypocrisy that many of these proper ladies were complete and utter floozies in their youth.
So here we have you on a date and you feel a strong sexual desire for the women sipping wine with you. You want her bad. Maybe she wants you just as badly but she’s being coy. She’s not the type of girl, after all. Never mind the threesome she had with her roommate and her boyfriend way back in college. She was drunk. And he was really, really cute. Oh, and forget her experiences with swinging with her second ex-husband. That was just a phase and while it might have been a lot of fun, she’s not like that anymore. She’ll sip her wine and gaze at you, her lady parts smoldering away. How do you know she’s smoldering? Read the next paragraph twice.
The question for you is, have you learned to read body language and non-verbal cues? If you haven’t, your dating life is going to be simply wretched and you will be wailing and gnashing your teeth on a regular basis. Frankly, if you don’t understand a woman’s body language and non-verbal cues, you are a clueless putz and deserve every bad date you get. There will be no lessons in body language here. Go out on the interwebs and learn. The PUA websites are a good start. You will also learn about your own body language and how to build comfort and attraction with women.
There is one fundamental weakness to the whole notion of chemistry. It assumes that chemistry is a quick and unyielding experience. Women don’t want a man to grow on them. They want instant gratification. Of course they will not state this clearly in their profiles. “I want a man to make my panties wet instantly.” Rather, it’s “I want to find a real chemistry with a man.” Yet with instant gratification comes shockingly poor decisions regarding men. That fellow who made her panties wet might be a complete tool in regards to maintaining a relationship. Ah, ain’t love grand?
If a string of sexual encounters is what you seek through online dating, then by all means learn the skills of creating sexual attraction with the opposite sex. It’s not rocket science. Women aren’t mysterious creatures imbued with magical powers. They’re just women and can be quite predictable. Learn the skills. Go have fun. Wear a condom.
More frustration: Even if your correspondence and phone calls were blisteringly hot with da sex talk, that is no guarantee of future sex. If a women doesn’t feel the chemistry in real life, there will be no sex in real life.
If you want a real relationship, you have to get past the chemistry thing. You have to make the leap from “guy I’m on a date with” to “guy who I really want to get all naked and sweaty with”. For that leap, there are no second chances. Once she determines that you’re not going to be a sexual partner, there is nothing – I repeat, nothing – you can do to grow on her. She’s already mentally reviewing the online profiles she read that morning and hoping the date with you ends quickly and painlessly.
Just cut your losses and move on. Your consistent online dating process should mean that you’re actively corresponding with at least three potential new dates. There are, after all, plenty of fish in the sea.
Once again, being in the village with my dog yielded some compelling social interactions with women. It was Superbowl Sunday and I was sitting on the bench between the restaurants, Lucy the dog at my side.
A trio of women in their late 50s/early 60s sauntered past and noticed my ugly dog. One of them, a brunette stylishly dressed, complimented my canine. I thanked her. We chatted briefly about Lucy and I mentioned that she’s good for getting phone numbers.
“I’m sure she gets you lots of phone numbers. Your beautiful brown eyes must help, too.”
Huh? What? Did she just hit me with a fine compliment? I smiled at her and said “thankyou!” enthusiastically. Seriously, a drive-by compliment like that was a welcome and wonderful surprise. I was completely disarmed, my charisma unsettled yet reinforced.
The trio of dames continued on their way and I was left feeling quite nice. I haven’t received a spontaneous and unsolicited compliment on my looks from a woman in, well, decades. The Private Man is not the zenith of male attractiveness but I do know that my eyes have yielded compliments but in a more physically intimate context. And perhaps she’s of an older generation not bred on suspicion and fear of men and complete selfishness in women.
Since then, I’ve been thinking of that brief social interaction and how it affected me. Now I know what happened. That woman was using girl game, her female Charisma. She had the self-assurance to compliment a totally random guy without fear or hesitation. She zipped out a flirtatious remark and it worked. Wow.
Here’s another interesting thing: I quite well remember her face, her hair, her outfit. I must have seen two hundred women that night and I have forgotten them all. Yet she I will remember instantly should I ever see her again. Should I do, I will certainly compliment her back for her nice remark. Such feminine behavior must always be encouraged, no matter what the age.
Ladies, there’s a lesson here for you.