Choosing Straight, Part 2, (Rated - NC17)

Autumn on the Little Susitna. Hatcher Pass, AK.

The Curse of "Nice Guy".

(This section might possibly be offensive to Jewish folk. (I just can't please everyone. But I sure as hell can offend 'em.))

Here is what I, personally, wish I had been taught in Sex Ed -

"Boy, boys, boys. You MUST understand this-!! Nice Boys NEVER! EVER! get laid!"

(Believe it or don't, that was the Eleventh Commandment of the original Hendecalogue, inscribed, by Big G's very own index finger on the first set of stone tablets. You know, the set Moses broke in that fit of pique over the Golden Calf. (So just what, exactly, was the deal there?))

However it led to sooo many Nice Jewish Boys becoming Atheists, and thereby produced so many distraught Jewish mothers, and so much weeping and wailing, gnashing of teeth, and rending of garments - "Atheist ? Atheist !! My son an Atheist !! Oy, that I should live to hear such a thing! And from my son? My firstborn?! Oy, I'm so glad your Father, (God rest his soul!), my Murray, isn't alive to hear this! It would KILL him!! Three weeks I was in labor with you. Three weeks!! Oy! The pain, the pain. Nine months of Hell I go through, (such morning sickness no one ever had! You have NO idea !!) Three weeks in labor!! Three weeks of hell to bring you, my firstborn, my only son, into this world!! I give you life!! Forty years I shlep you through the desert. Forty Years!! Moses can't read a map?? Who knew?! And ask for directions? Just like my Murray, (May he rest in peace.) And now you do this?? Fine!! Stab your mother through the heart!! Marrying a shiksa I could understand, godless heathens I admit, but beautiful, (may God forgive me.) Marrying a shiksa I could maybe understand, even forgive, maybe. If she gave me sheyna eyfelekh! Beautiful Bubeleh!! But this !! No... No... It's alright. I still love you, even though you don't love your Mother. Oy. I knew I should have breast fed another year... This is all my fault." - That God removed it from the second set of tablets, giving us the Decalogue, just to stop all the kvetching.

Unfortunately it is apparently still in effect. The "Unwritten Commandment", as it were.

A Paradox: If you, perchance, as someone who has been cursed with the Nice Guy gene, (and believe me, it is a terrible curse!) anyway, if you should cry out in your celibate anguish and despair, "Oh God! I wish I was like "so and so" ("so and so" being a lying, cheating, sleazy, womanizing bastard - and those are his good points - who, of course, gets laid more than anyone deserves. Especially a lying, cheating, two timing, sleazy, scumbag, womanizing, low life, bastard.)

Anyway, should you so cry out, in the presence of women who are acquainted with Mr. "so and so", they will, I assure you, cry out in response, "Oh No!! You're much too nice!! You don't ever want to be like "so and so"!! He's awful!! We hate him!!"

- wait for it -

"And we like you!"

Kiss... Of... Death....

And yet, strangely enough, it very often occurs that they themselves will have allowed "so and so", whom they supposedly hate, to fuck them. Often more than once.

(What Is Up With That!?!?!?)

They will then pat you on your head, tell you that "You'll make someone (else) a wonderful boyfriend, husband, whatever, someday." Give you a puppy treat, and then send you home.

Alone.

In response to the implicit question -

If you think you can overcome this severe disability by learning how to Act like an Asshole, you will discover that, no matter how hard you try, nor how good your schtick, women will still know, somehow, that You are a Nice Guy. (I suspect it has to do with the fact that sooner or later you will slip up by actually listening to what she is saying, while not trying to cop a feel, and then you are screwed - NOT!)

So just go buy yourself a magazine, (I can recommend any of the fine Club Publications) a box of tissues, and go home.

Oh. And for those of you who were, or are, among the chosen. You who are Cool, and Suave, and Sophisticated, those of you for whom things went slick as KY warming jelly. I now say, from the bottom of my heart, and with unutterable depth of feeling, on behalf of We, the average, the ordinary, the clumsy, the less than attractive, the awkward, the ill prepared, the uncertain, the nervous, in other words all the rest of us...

We Hates You!!! We Hates You Forever!!! Die!!! Die!!!! Die!!!!!

(For years I hated all good looking men as a simple matter of principle. I considered it a Moral Imperative. I now have a more nuanced view, as I have come to understand that if you have enough money, it really doesn't matter what you look like.)

Perhaps it is true that money can't buy you love.

But it sure as hell can rent it.

Tune in tomorrow, or the next day, when I will reveal what all this is about.

Choosing Straight, Part 1, (Rated - NC17)

Photo - Autumn on the Little Susitna River.

(Got your attention, didn't I? And it really isn't gratuitous, as shall, I hope, become apparent.)

The first in a multi-part post that will reveal "The truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth" about a subject near and dear to my heart, and one without which none of us would be here. (I'd finish with "So help me God", but I don't believe in him....)

I remember it like it happened yesterday.

Hell, I remember it like it happened five minutes ago. I bet you remember it too, it isn't something anyone would be likely to forget. (Unless you're one of those losers who can't remember your first "real" kiss, or even worse the first time you got laid. [So, just how drunk or wasted were you anyway?])

"And just what, exactly, is this 'it' ? " You ask?

"Well," I reply, "to make an obscure reference to another author, I call it The Moment."

"Ah yes..." (You nod sagely) " The Moment. Exactly! The (stretch it out) Moment."

"Yup, that's it The Moment." (Still clueless? Oh alright, I will explicate re The Moment - As for the Author referenced? You're on your own.)

The Moment can occur, as it did in my case, long before your first real kiss, or it can be that first real kiss, the kiss you should always remember, the kiss that made everything clear to you, the kiss when you knew.

Over the years I have come to understand that life is... complicated, to say the least, and the Moment happens at different times for everyone. For me it happened before I even knew it was about sex, (It was a much, much more innocent age. Long before MTV, Cable and Internet Porn, Hooking Up, FWB, and Booty Calls.) And over the way too many years that have passed since, I've met quite a few folks for whom it happened after marriage, children, mortgages, cats, dogs, etc. And when that happens, well? Life suddenly gets a lot more complicated for everyone involved. But when the Moment arrives, and denial in no longer possible, everything has to change.

Now loads of folks have written about their first kiss, (real or imaginary), or the first time they got laid (usually entirely imaginary). In our confessional modern age it's de rigueur to recount, to share those moments, often in excessively precise, and unnecessarily clinical detail. (What's the difference between Literature and Porn? About twelve dollars in hardback. (It used to be eighteen, but now most magazines come with a "free" six dollar CD.)) Hell, given the advances in technology these days, there are probably cell phone pics and video of the Moment online. Sexting anyone? But it's pointless to tell a high-school or college kid that their web launched Kodak moments are now forever, and more and more employers know where to find them. Good luck on the job search.... (In the old days, we could at least buy back or destroy the negatives.)

Still, I haven't read too many true and factual accounts of The Moment.

So here is mine. (Exactly as it happened, and totally unembellished. I promise.) - As an aside, I do have to say that my first real kiss was way, way, better than I had ever imagined. Woof!! Sigh... Even all these years, and one or two additional good kisses later, that memory is really just... It's still really... She was... Wow... Is it getting warm in here...? or is it just...? Um...

Would you excuse me for a minute or ten? I'll be right back....

OK. That's loads better.

But in all honesty, the stuff that came later? Well let me qualify that - Second and Third Base? Sweet, Sweet, Sweet!

But Fourth Base?

You know - Going all the way? Hitting a Home Run? Hitting it out of the Park? Sliiiiiding into Home Base? Yippee Kai Yay Motherf___r? Bumpin Uglies? Knockin Boots? Boffing? Balling? Bouncing? Gettin Laid? Screwing? Playin "Hide the Salami"? (And yes, I know - it's pretty much never a Salami.) Makin Whoopie? Booty Call? Gettin Some? Nookie? ("Ain't no nookie like Chinookie!!") Badger in the Hole? Making the Beast with two backs? Stuffin the Muffin? Actual Sexual Intercourse?

Very First time...?

Sweet...?

Not so much.

I mean Jesus...

Who would ever think inserting Tab A into Slot B could be so damn complicated and stressful? (I have to presume it's just as complicated if you're both Tab A's, or Slot B's, just complicated in a different way. And beyond two? God, I've had enough trouble trying to figure it out with only one other person, I can't imagine trying to deal with more. But then again, maybe at an orgy you don't have to deal with anyone as an individual at all. Never been there, never done that. So I don't know nothin as far as that is concerned.)

Still there comes a time, after all the preliminaries have finally been gotten out of the way, that you find yourself there, at the tense and shaky moment of ultimate truth, and there, at that last possible second before, that second after which nothing will ever be the same again, (as if things weren't stressful and complicated enough already), there, at that instant, as you stand or lie there naked. Naked! Before the entire world. (Or the only part of it that matters to you right then.) There, at the last, final, possible, instant of total commitment! There, At The Moment of Truth! You are unmistakably informed of The Secret! The terrible, horrific, unbearable secret...

Tab A or Slot B (depending) has a Mind of its OWN!!!

- A howl of unsupportable anguish penetrates the Galactic Void -

(The Galactic Void, sadly, is the only thing that's gonna get penetrated tonight.)

Who knew that Tab A and Slot B had minds of their own? Huh??!!

Why didn't anyone ever warn us about that!!?? Hmmmm??? Unlike a lot of the stuff we were taught in Sex Ed, that's a piece of useful information!!! Why is that left out of Sex Ed programs? Seriously! Just ask yourself, "Would my life have been simpler, and happier, if I had known that from the start?"

Just imagine...

Sex Ed Teacher: "Now girls! Oops, sorry. Young Women. You must understand that your Mind, and your Pussy (Vagina, while a lovely word just sounds so... clinical.) will often disagree, sometimes greatly, over just who should be allowed access to your Secret Garden, Jade Gate, Celestial Chamber, Ivory Temple, Gates of Heaven, Golden Chamber, Temple of Love, Gates of Paradise, Honey Pot, Pot of Gold, Golden Temple, Garden of Earthly Delights, Heavenly Palace, Rainbows End, Sugar Grotto, Plum Basket, Tunnel of Love, etc, etc. Yes my dears, access to your sweet Temple of Poon. (at this point she sighs deeply) Well my dears, speaking from personal experience, I'm afraid I must say that it is quite the conundrum, and one for which there is currently no satisfactory solution. I fear you must simply make the best of the situation. Just remember my dears, you have been warned.

And: Girls, you need to understand that even though every boys "Mr Happy" (see clinical note above)

[A point of explanation - The word "Cock" and/or any of its multitudinous synonyms, usually preceded by a superlative such as, "huge", "enormous", "gigantic", etc, etc... you get the picture, are generally reserved for those flights of male fantasy which are sent off to certain magazines, websites, etc, in hopes they will see the light of display on a website, or (old school) of ink on paper.]

I suppose it is good to have some aspirations.

To continue - "So, my Dears, while "Mr Happy" will always desire the unattainable, that fact will seldom, alright, never, (with one possible exception, see "Nice Guy", below), prevent him from taking full advantage of any opportunity that presents itself, including - but certainly not limited to, and please remember this girls - his hand, (either one, or both, if he's lucky) a sunwarmed watermelon, pillows, warm apple pie, sheep or other small livestock, and chemically impaired judgement on your part. From which naturally arises the "Men are Dogs" analogy.

Or, in the words of the Immortal Lenny Bruce, "A man will fuck mud."

And: "Always remember, boys and girls, that ugly gets better and better looking as the lights get dimmer, and your blood alcohol rises, which will lead, invariably, to the dreaded 'Coyote Morning.' "

And: (Pre Viagra, Levitra, Cialis...) "When Tab A isn't, for whatever reason, into her, or him, nothing will happen." (Talk about humiliating, for both parties.)

Tune in tomorrow for Part 2 of "Choosing Straight"

The Curse of the Nice Guy.

(Truly, it is a fate worse than Death!!!!!)

Same Bat time. Same Bat station.

In The Beginning. (Where else would you start?)

Raven contemplates his next move. Grocery parking lot, Wasilla AK

So Raven, He was out flyin one day -

Well, truth be told, it wasn’t really "day" yet, on account ’a the Old Man still had The Sun, The Moon, an The Stars (but no four leaf clovers), all locked up in this Big Cedar Box, inside his house. (I’ll tell ya ‘bout "The Old Guy an' the Cedar Box" later - an’ no, I don’t got no idea why the Sun didn’t just burn that Cedar Box all up inta cinders. Maybe it was some kind'a Magic Box! (I had a girlfriend with one 'a those once't. Damn I miss her....))

So anyways, there was Raven, out flyin around in the dark. Which must’a been really annoyin’, an’ maybe kind'a a little scary, what with the risk’a flyin inta things an' all, if there was any, things that is. But who could know? on account'a, it was dark!

But Old Raven still, He was just out there flyin around in the dark cause that’s what Ravens really like to do, fly I mean. Just not usually in the dark. But Raven, see, He can only do one thing at a time, an’ right then His beak was full up with this stupid rock He picked up somewhere, in the dark. Prob’ly ‘cause He thought it was a good idea at the time. Pickin up the rock I mean.

C’mon, don’t tell me you ain't never done nothin stupid on account'a "It seemed to be a good idea at the time.”

That’s Ravens favorite quote from The Magnificent Seven, ya know? that an’ “Badges? We don’t need no stinkin badges!”

No, wait, that’s from Treasure a' the Sierra Madre, through The Monkees, Blazing Saddles, an' John Belushi in The Killer Bees, on SNL.

What a loss that was... Belushi, I mean. Raven thought John Belushi kicked ass!

Samurai Delicatessen... Animal House... The Blues Brothers...

Raven an Belushi, they would'a been tight, ya know?

Shit…. Where was I?

Oh yeah. So anyway, Raven, He’s out there flyin around in the dark with this stupid rock in his beak, an' He starts ta thinkin. (OK, so maybe Raven can do more than one thing at a time. I gotta remember that.)

Now there’s a whole lotta shit I can tell ya ‘bout Raven, some good, some bad, well, more good than bad I think, but one thing I can tell ya fer sure, Raven? Well? He gets bored kinda easy, has a short attention span, ya know? kinda ADHD, which is why He gets into trouble sometimes.

So Raven, He’s out there flyin around in the dark carrying this rock in his beak, an’ He starts ta thinkin, “Why the hell am I flying around with this stupid rock in my beak, in the dark? What a stupid thing to do. What if I get hungry? What if I want to talk to somebody? How will they understand what I am saying if I have this stupid rock in my beak? It’s not like I’m playing Eliza Dolittle in My Fair Lady, it’s not like I have to learn to enunciate.”

(Raven’s really proud’a his vocabulary)

So Raven -

He opens up his beak,

an’ he drops that rock,

an’ it falls down.

A long, long,

loooooong,

way down,

until it goes

- splash! -

inta the Primal Ocean. (Which was all there was at the time.)

Well, that an’ the Sky, where Raven was flying around over the face a' the waters in the dark....

Holy shit!

Wow! I gotta think ‘bout that for a second...

So Raven.. He was Movin, over the face a' the water...

in.. the... dark....!

Damn! I never thought 'bout it like that before. That could mean. That could mean that Raven... that Raven! was the Spirit a’ God, moving over the face a’ the waters!!

Nah….

So anyway, after He went an’ dropped that rock, Ol' Raven He sure was happy ta hear that

- splash! -

on account’a it told Him where the Primal Ocean was, so now He didn’t have ta worry ‘bout flyin inta the water an' gettin all wet no more. (Raven didn’t have no IFR* certificate, see? but since there weren’t no FAA yet, it wasn’t like they could fine him, ya know? pull His pilots license, or any a’ that shit.)

Still, He was flyin around, in the dark, over the Primal Ocean, an’ what with havin no altimeter, no instruments, no heads up display, no nothin! it was good to know, fer sure, where that damn water was.

So that rock, it falls down into the Primal Ocean

- splash! -

an’ the strangest thing happens. It, (the rock), it don’t sink to the bottom a’ the Ocean (which fer sure would’a been another loooong trip down, on account’a this was the Primal Ocean, an’ prob’ly didn’t have no bottom) like ya’d expect, but that rock, well it started ta swell up, an’ swell an’ swell, ya know? sort’a like those weirdass little novelty pellets you used ’ta could buy out’a the backs a' comics. Them thingies what turns inta monkeys or swamp-thing or whatever when ya add water to em, ya remember those? those weirdass little crispy sponge thingies what swell up when they get wet? Well, that’s what that damn rock did, it swelled up, an’ swelled up, an’ swelled up, until finally it turned inta all the land that there is today!

Which is good, on account‘a otherwise I’d be a fish, or a whale, or some damn swimmy kind'a thing, an’ then how would I type? No fingers, see? just flippers or fins ya know? and certainly no MacBook Pro.

No Shit.

An’ I bet whales an’ fishes can’t even read, no matter if they do swim around in schools all day. An’ that’s what ya’d all be! Fishes or whales I mean, (Ishmael was wrong, by the way, whales ain’t fishes!) so what would be the point’a my writin’ anything anyways?

But Raven? Well now He’s happier 'n a cat with two tails (I was gonna say "happier 'n a dog with two d...s," but there might be kids readin this.) on account’a He don’t gotta worry ‘bout fallin in the Primal ocean no more, ‘cause now He’s got some place dry to go hang out, and He don’t have that stupid rock in his beak no more.

An that’s how we got dry land.

*IFR - Instrument Flight Rating