I don’t know what all women want and I find that a little surprising because I am such a good listener. My observations do lead me to think that most women want a man who understands them. They want someone who looks romantic like Colin Firth, who dances like John Travolta and who listens like Dr. Phil. If he is smart like Dr. Oz that is even better but not as necessary. Women settle for lesser gods because they are realistic in their expectations and hubby usually turns out satisfactory. They have children, they work to support the desires of their children, or at least what they believe are the desires of their children and then suddenly they discover that they are turning 50 next week and “is that all there is” springs to mind.
More shocks are in store for them as their marriage falls apart for any one of a variety of reasons. Then suddenly they are alone again, still expecting that wonderful godlike combination and yet they settle for whoever will ask out a 50 year old woman. This is the part that I find bewildering. Why wouldn’t women take a little breather from the treadmill they have been on and get to know themselves for a year or two before they start dating after a marriage breakup? I think perhaps they are frightened by their age and the competition and they feel a sense of urgency to get right back on the horse before it is too late. Too late for what? Living the life you’ve already led which ended in failure?
Don’t get me wrong I do understand that we all would like a partner. We are taught in life that everything ends happily ever after with the prince by our side. The commercials we are inundated with show happy, carefree women leading men down the garden path of life if we drink a cool beer, use the right deodorant and eat the right yogurt. No one tells us that men never mature beyond the age of 13 when they first start paying attention to their penises. Obnoxious as Gerard Butler is in the movie The Ugly Truth he is telling it like it is. That’s what men think about. Sex, sex and more sex. Even at 70 for heavens sakes. Huh, that reminds me of what happened to me in my younger, innocent days.
Like all girls I always loved horses and wanted to ride like Dale Evans on a beautiful palomino. When we moved to this little town my dad became friends with some older men, older than my dad even. Way older. Like in their 70’s. One of them had a cattle ranch and invited me to ride with him west of town on his free range. I loved it and I even got to go on an all day cattle drive. I wore genuine chaps and he even lent me his son’s spurs to wear with my boots because I was on a bit of a stubborn old horse. This went on all summer and I was in heaven when I was riding thinking he was just like a great old grandfather. Imagine my shock when one evening as we got home he leaned over and kissed me. With tongue. I was so upset and shaken up and didn’t know what to say or do. And my stunned ears were being assaulted with words like “if we had met at another time and place”. Was he drunk? Was he out of his mind? Hadn’t he seen my finance at the branding? I was 32 years old and he was at least 78. You are fucking kidding me!
When I told my brother Peter he howled with laughter. I was furious. This was serious. This man was a friend and business acquaintance with my dad and I didn’t know how to tell my father that there was no way I was going to be in the same room with a letcher. Finally I just told him the truth and thank goodness my dad understood. But he didn’t severe his relationship. All the books I had read led me to hope that he would at least punch him in the mouth but I guess my dad had a cooler head than I did.
Men.
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