Insight comes in some interesting ways. And when I say interesting, I mean like, wow, wait for this story.
Some men have what we’re going to call ‘GAME’. You know, they are slick, Rico Suave, charming, charismatic. A woman appears and the flame of challenge ignites within and they are GAME ON, gliding across the cacophony of the piazza in its afternoon vibrancy —or more accurately the Kelowna water-front street which is roped into a pedestrian area because it is Covid— Seniorita! to help a fetching young thing who has dropped her bag of Coke Zero and protein bars (okay it’s me, I feel young today) on the way smiling at an old woman and petting a dog and not sweating. Thank you, NO, I am not the OLD woman in this scenario, he is actually rushing to help me, can we just agree to let me have my moment because it’s been a week, and by week I think you know that I mean year. And BACK to our smooth movers. They waft pheromones in our general direction. They drench their words in honied intensity. They vibe LOVERBOY and our necks feel caressed by mischievous lips, our lips traced by ardent fingers, our Goddess worshiped at her altar, which sounds spicier than I maybe intended but I’ll just leave you to unpack that reference. What else are you doing on Labour Day? Not working I hope.
It doesn’t really matter the ‘move’ per se. You know Ryan Gosling in Crazy Stupid Love, how he buys the lady a drink whether she wants it or not, and once he has her inside his DEN he executes the trick from Dirty Dancing where he has her run at him and jump into the air as if to fly, really quite a trust fall, and then after successfully catching her (no offence but he is a trained professional with biceps actually sculpted by Adonis on his day off please don’t try this at home) he whisks her off to the bedroom and makes sweet love to her and she has the “time of her life” because it turns out that Gosling, yes a man named for a baby goose, puts Baby in a corner and then tells her what he’s going to do to her —and that works for him.
It’s not that we are all STUPID, speaking for us women. We don’t want to be played. We can buy ourselves a drink thanks ever so kindly. We can say yes or no. And we don’t want to be one of a dirty dozen, a rolodex, a weekly rotation, in every port, a notch on a belt, and so on. Ew-uh! Also, and this needs to be said okay, NOT all of us are so delicately bird boned that we can imagine sailing into our leading man’s arms without visualizing the paramedic’s stricken face when he hoists us to our feet only to find we have subsumed an entire crushed Gosling beneath our girth. Not the point but kind of unfair, right?
The point, is that we want to be special, so why oh why are the ladies’ men so compelling to us? Why do we say NEVER EVER EVER, butjust this once while we are scribbling out the phone number or hopping into the cab with starry eyed surprise?
Well I will tell you why the ladies’ men have game and why the men who don’t have game don’t and also why those who don’t don’t actually need it, all in this amazing tell all, after this commercial break.
Nom nom, ice cream, nom nom, okay back to you.
It’s NOT actually the smooth, effortless, charisma oozing confidence that woos us.
IT’S THE FOCUSSED ATTENTION.
The piercing gaze, the brooding intensity, the words that undress her with their passion have much less to do with being so blessed with the bounty of manhood as to take from the buffet of woman, or the natural confidence a man emanates in doing so, and so much more to do with HOW HE MAKES HER FEEL.
Like the only woman in the room, or the piazza, as he stares up from the plastic convenience store bag of essential provisions, allow me to help you, meeting her eyes with his own.
Women want this. And if you are a man, and you are reading this and you are dating or relation-shipping, and you don’t already know it and practice it then let me help you along. Women want this. Of course we want to be emotionally validated and to talk about feelings even if we don’t use that word, and so do you because you have them even if the teacher told you otherwise, but that is the stuff that comes later.
If you think she is a babe, if you want to be her cow and give her all the milk around town (that’s from the song Lover in case I lost you), then pay her some attention, celebrate your desire to unlock the mysteries of how she thinks, of what inspires her, what songs are on her playlist, what makes her feel free, what her scariest fears are. Climb inside her nightmare and make it safe with her. Fill up her cup and let her lavish you with all of the best of her, which you loved in the first place so, not a hardship, because she has so much to give. Don’t do it in a creepy way. Don’t steel her eyelashes or her underwear. If you feel the urge to use her phone to track her comings and goings please head straight to the psychiatrist’s office.
One of the most attractive things in a man, what will be a game changer and cause women to dreamily sigh when they hear the sound of his voice is treating his woman like the Goddess that she is.
If you need a muse to inspire you, then awaken it in her. Your wife or your beloved or the woman who dropped her bag on the street.
And you know what some of the side affects of cup filling are? Well she’s gonna want you to do all the things that fill your cup. Go golfing with the boys again baby. Because she feels adored, treasured, invested in. You’re going to feel like Adonis, because she is going to reciprocate. She is going to fill your cup, open your door, do such things to ease your pain and something something with your pear tree as the song goes.
This NEEDS to be said, because the world has thrown some shit at us, because politics and economics and societies and the Kings and Queens have lost sight of each other, and I mean this in the most gender encompassing way. Men are coming out of divorces never having brought a woman to orgasm. Women are coming out not having felt safe enough to ask, or redirect, or point it out. We are scared of each other, and that is not the recipe for bliss.
There are many hats to wear in a relationship. But if it’s a romantic relationship then you need to nurture your LOVERSHIP. You need to explore one another. You don’t have to be good at it. You don’t have to have moves. Your genuine enthusiasm makes you good at it, IF it’s directed at her, and not at some silly idea of what men do in the movies. Your passion for her makes you good at it, if you express that passion in her general direction.
I guarantee that you want to feel like the man who has the key to her queendom. It’s better mojo than being a rock star. That stuff will uplift you and spirit you places.
*Now if the reason you have not been paying her attention is because you actually don’t give so many f*cks (I am gentile today friends with that radio edit) but you are keeping her on a string because it’s nice to have someone who thinks you are amaze-balls, feeding her a crumb of attention now and again when you are bored or scared of being alone well then there is a special place in my master class for you *plays scorching Georgia devil fiddle*. Seriously. I know you are scared and lonely, but don’t be blinded by it. Be braver than that. It’s not attractive, or kind. Also, you don’t want to know what’s going to happen when she gets all Gloria Gainor on your ass and writes a song or podcast about what you did last summer, and the one before that, which is what is going to happen when your spell wears off. Just you wait.
BUT assuming you really actually dig a chick, well know this: You too can be a lover. You don’t want a partner who will fit into your world and your idea of compatibility. You don’t want to stay in your comfort zone, it smells like a gym in there. You want to be surprised. And you won’t be if you don’t even get the wrapping off of the package. Again, the unintended puns are taking a racy turn here friends. You’re welcome.
Which bring us back to the streets of Kelowna, where I found myself a key player in the do’s and don’ts of courting. It was as if I was cast in a part just so as to entertain, but also fix some shit this fine Monday morning.
It began at the resort lounge, where I enjoyed a glass of wine while working on some work emails, and a gentleman approached my table and kindly invited me to share his better view. I declined at first, I was there to work, but he was so earnest in his approach that I stopped by later for a socially distanced chat. I declined his invite for dinner, drinks, breakfast and the offer to pay my tab, because simply I didn’t feel the right intellectual chemistry, but I can’t fault his approach at all. He asked me thoughtful questions and complimented my shoes.
Then let’s talk about my walk downtown, when I was ready to call it a night but couldn’t get through the police take-down adjacent my vehicle, and so went back to eat some ice cream, drink the coke Zero rescued for me mid-day, and watch people Bollywood dancing in the street, which was ever so magical and slightly less terrifying than blood and handcuffs. Was it the pink dress? The fact that I was sitting alone? Friends I am 52 years old this summer, and in the hour I sat eating ice cream and drinking soda and texting on my phone, I was approached by 5 men, ages 25-45. I mean my vibes were happy, but not sexy. The ice cream, wait for it, was bubble gum flavored.
Guy number one sat innocently nearby appearing to be on his phone. I genuinely didn’t realize that it was a strategy at first, until he introduced himself then chimed in with people watching commentary. He was ridiculously handsome and not offensive at all, so much so that I just thought he was making polite conversation for the longest time. He did also compliment my shoes, pointing out that he doesn’t usually notice women’s footwear, but that mine looked great on me. He also chatted with the 15 year old kid on the nearby bench, until finally mumbling something about coffee the next day then wandering off, only to be replaced by kid’s chaperone, who then introduced himself to me, and asked if my name was Swedish. In case you have forgotten, this is Erin’s Monday Musing, not Olga’s. Chaperone guy emitted lecherous and lazy, a lethal combo, and I exited the chat to answer an imaginary text. The next contender, and this one was my personal favourite and wins the worst pick up line in the history of EVER, for lack of effort, sat down beside me, and I am sorry to all witty intelligent and respectful men everywhere who also go to the gym, but this guy was about 25 with a well muscled physique and a movie star face, and without even asking my name or how my night was going, GRUNTED to get my attention and then romanced me to the heavens with “Wanna ride?” WOW. Just wow. I mean does that EVER work for him? Is he lost inside the idea that women want him because he fits some outward criteria of physical attractiveness? Because even my gal pals who like the pretty ones and are less needful of intellectual connection will not be attracted to THAT.
“No”, I said. With a look of both shock, and horror. NO.
And then came the tiny man with the cap. I could see him sidling over and I was about ready to enjoy some tear gas and good old riot disruption by then (since ice cream and street dancing was losing its innocence). I looked away, I texted with conviction. I shifted thirty degrees West so that even the most zealous eyes could not find mine. “Excuse me”. “Excuse me”. I finally glanced, because I am too polite. “I am just waiting for you to finish and then I will talk with you”. “OH” I conveyed my surprise, “Oh, no. No, thankyou. No. No.” And he left. Was I on a weird game show? Did I have a sign on my back that said, “U pick”?
The last one who came a-leering stood no chance and I called time of death on my whimsical outing. My take away was this though: If you’re looking for a one night thing, sure try your luck, you do you. Unless you actually are Ryan Baby Goose, don’t open by offering a ride. Okay, even you Ryan, should not be doing that. Stop doing that already. And what is your move for curvy girls, show us that in the ‘player stops playing’ sequel. If you’re not Ryan Imma suggest looking in an actual bar for someone who seems at least down to party if you’re in fact looking to party. Don’t single out ice cream eating ladies of a certain age and then treat them like a Cracker Jack prize, you run the risk of becoming a blog ‘don’t’.
To recap, clever and polite will get a welcome response, if not a date. Lazy and lecherous will be rejected. Yes to shoes, no to entitlement. If you can’t pay attention to her body language, or put some effort into approach you aren’t ready for her time, let alone her Goddess.
If you are truly looking for love or looking to sweeten love, focus in. You don’t need to be Casanova, lover of women. But you need to be her lover Baby.
You have it in you. I can tell by the way you use your walk.
— Love Erin
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