There's nothing wrong with an aggressive woman who knows what she wants when it comes to getting laid, and, most important, it takes the pressure off the man, who doesn't have to go through the drudgery and awkwardness most of us experience when we try to woo a woman for sexual and personal companionship. Plus, with all the harassment going on among pigs like Harvey Weinstein, our President Trump, James Toback, and right on down the line, it's time women took the upper hand and made passes toward men, not necessarily touching them, or grabbing their balls, but possibly putting a friendly hand on their shoulder while facing them and saying, “Look, I'm attracted to you physically, it looks like we might have something in common, so, if you just cut the bullshit, I think there's a good chance we can both get laid here.”
I know what I'm talking about, and even wrote a memoir called “Trying to get Laid in America,” which I admit I was terrible at, never felt comfortable approaching women with the ardent and blatant desire to “get laid,” and failed abysmally possibly 95% of the time. Even as a bartender for well over 20 years, where the most eligible, attractive and interesting women were in supply, like a magical cornucopia, I made it a policy to never hit on them and enjoyed being accessible, so that it was their decision to display all the signs of their desire to know and sleep with me.
As a bartender, I had a policy—keep your hands off women, unless they were regulars, buddies, and you gave them a kiss on the cheek, or squeezed their hand, or, if invited, a hug. You didn't grab their asses, or crotches, or breasts even if they flirted with you. You waited for them to nuzzle close, or, if you turned around, to smack you lovingly on the ass. And, as bartenders, we, as a crew in all the bars I worked, made sure any man in the bar kept his hands off any gal unless he was invited to do so, and it wasn't to crotches or breasts.
Take it outside!
We used to call gin mills “body exchanges.” To me, they were seething grab bags of organ hounders becoming more aggressive on both sides with the increase of drunkenness and drug consumption, marijuana and cocaine being the preferences men used as blatant “pussy” bait in my era.
This entire mating ritual has to be turned around, reversed, because, as of now, after all these harassment, molestation and rapes are emerging among the likes of Bill Cosby, Weinsten, etc, men as a sex are going to be rightfully suspected of all manner of overly aggressive and unlawful behavior when it comes to the work place, where for centuries they've lorded their power and position and strength over women. Fact is, if a woman becomes too sexually aggressive with a man, he can ward her off in almost every case and shall not be raped. But a big strong man can rape almost any woman, so why not let the ladies lay down the rules, why not let the ladies, if they desire, pick who they want to have sex with, and I'm sure in most cases the men will go along with them, their egos massaged beyond all expectation, and competitive urge to conquer taken out of the predicament.
I will state here and now that every one of my greatest loves and sexual affairs that had nothing to do with love—with the exception of my current lady--was sparked by women who became impatient with my inability and lack of confidence to make a move, and gave me the “go” sign either with a smile, a look, a touch, or a word, which immediately set off a scintillating relationship of both ardor and a meeting of the souls, a total relaxation between two people who just needed to break down the male/female barrier of shyness and trepidation.
My father and mother taught me how to respect, appreciate and treat women. My father was an overpowering man, a professional athlete doomed to dominate, and my diminutive mother would have none of it. He never laid an unwelcome hand on her. When one of her sisters was physically abused, my dad drove a hundred miles, broke into the house, and beat the brother in law into a bloody pulp and threatened to kill him if he ever laid another hand on my aunt.
“We protect our women,” Dad said. “Any man puts his hands on a woman who doesn't invite it, any man who lays a hand on a woman and hurts her, is a goddam coward who deserves the worst kind of beating.”
It puzzles me to extreme why some protective man with character has not beaten a Weinstein, a Cosby, a Trump, or any of these craven pigs into a bloody pulp.
For all the gentlemen in this world, there has always been swine like Weinstein and Cosby and Trump and whomever else pops up in this climate of male power abuse to make it seem like we are all swine and women are overwhelmed; and possibly they are, and, if they feel they are, and Gloria Allred and her forces run wild in the persecution of any suspected bad actor, I think it's time for women to take the initiative and reverse the sexual courting/mating ritual that has gone on for centuries. It is their time. What we really need is a woman president, a predominantly female supreme court, house and senate, so they can write the laws of the land, restrained by the competitive ego of man, and, while they are at it, they can feather their own nests in the economic meritocracy and let men find out just how tough it is to climb the ladders to financial security, largess wealth and power while they hold the upper hand, and, if they want, they can seduce our asses if we want to get the job they dangle before us as bait to promotion.
Yeh, the worm has turned, and us men will be better for it, trust me.
I know what I'm talking about, and even wrote a memoir called “Trying to get Laid in America,” which I admit I was terrible at, never felt comfortable approaching women with the ardent and blatant desire to “get laid,” and failed abysmally possibly 95% of the time. Even as a bartender for well over 20 years, where the most eligible, attractive and interesting women were in supply, like a magical cornucopia, I made it a policy to never hit on them and enjoyed being accessible, so that it was their decision to display all the signs of their desire to know and sleep with me.
As a bartender, I had a policy—keep your hands off women, unless they were regulars, buddies, and you gave them a kiss on the cheek, or squeezed their hand, or, if invited, a hug. You didn't grab their asses, or crotches, or breasts even if they flirted with you. You waited for them to nuzzle close, or, if you turned around, to smack you lovingly on the ass. And, as bartenders, we, as a crew in all the bars I worked, made sure any man in the bar kept his hands off any gal unless he was invited to do so, and it wasn't to crotches or breasts.
Take it outside!
We used to call gin mills “body exchanges.” To me, they were seething grab bags of organ hounders becoming more aggressive on both sides with the increase of drunkenness and drug consumption, marijuana and cocaine being the preferences men used as blatant “pussy” bait in my era.
This entire mating ritual has to be turned around, reversed, because, as of now, after all these harassment, molestation and rapes are emerging among the likes of Bill Cosby, Weinsten, etc, men as a sex are going to be rightfully suspected of all manner of overly aggressive and unlawful behavior when it comes to the work place, where for centuries they've lorded their power and position and strength over women. Fact is, if a woman becomes too sexually aggressive with a man, he can ward her off in almost every case and shall not be raped. But a big strong man can rape almost any woman, so why not let the ladies lay down the rules, why not let the ladies, if they desire, pick who they want to have sex with, and I'm sure in most cases the men will go along with them, their egos massaged beyond all expectation, and competitive urge to conquer taken out of the predicament.
I will state here and now that every one of my greatest loves and sexual affairs that had nothing to do with love—with the exception of my current lady--was sparked by women who became impatient with my inability and lack of confidence to make a move, and gave me the “go” sign either with a smile, a look, a touch, or a word, which immediately set off a scintillating relationship of both ardor and a meeting of the souls, a total relaxation between two people who just needed to break down the male/female barrier of shyness and trepidation.
My father and mother taught me how to respect, appreciate and treat women. My father was an overpowering man, a professional athlete doomed to dominate, and my diminutive mother would have none of it. He never laid an unwelcome hand on her. When one of her sisters was physically abused, my dad drove a hundred miles, broke into the house, and beat the brother in law into a bloody pulp and threatened to kill him if he ever laid another hand on my aunt.
“We protect our women,” Dad said. “Any man puts his hands on a woman who doesn't invite it, any man who lays a hand on a woman and hurts her, is a goddam coward who deserves the worst kind of beating.”
It puzzles me to extreme why some protective man with character has not beaten a Weinstein, a Cosby, a Trump, or any of these craven pigs into a bloody pulp.
For all the gentlemen in this world, there has always been swine like Weinstein and Cosby and Trump and whomever else pops up in this climate of male power abuse to make it seem like we are all swine and women are overwhelmed; and possibly they are, and, if they feel they are, and Gloria Allred and her forces run wild in the persecution of any suspected bad actor, I think it's time for women to take the initiative and reverse the sexual courting/mating ritual that has gone on for centuries. It is their time. What we really need is a woman president, a predominantly female supreme court, house and senate, so they can write the laws of the land, restrained by the competitive ego of man, and, while they are at it, they can feather their own nests in the economic meritocracy and let men find out just how tough it is to climb the ladders to financial security, largess wealth and power while they hold the upper hand, and, if they want, they can seduce our asses if we want to get the job they dangle before us as bait to promotion.
Yeh, the worm has turned, and us men will be better for it, trust me.
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