Your questioner sounds like a nice guy with a real sense of values and
a positive outlook on life. In this regard he is doomed. As a "nice
guy" myself with a decade in the adult dating world, I can affirm that
any decent approach this guy will make will flame out like a nudged
Pinto. As a rule, women only respond to the howled mating calls of
meat-headed Neanderthals. Furthermore, they respond in inverse
proportion to their denial of attraction to the aforementioned blunt
edges. My advice is to quit while you're ahead.
Do, however, buy the dog. Although the puppy phase will soon disappear
in a flurry of chewed shoes and ruined floor covering, you will have
gained a true friend that appreciates a kind word and a gentle nuzzle.
Learn to revel in holidays that turn love into a contest of consumer
performance. The bliss of exempt freedom more than compensates for a
grudging acceptance of a box of chocolates and a cutting look when you
produce the wrong peignoir.
Follow my advice, young questioner, and you will find yourself a master
of mirth rather than a slave to suffering. As I am within a few
months of 40 and still in possession of a full head of hair, my own
teeth and a serviceable physical plant, I can attest that the final
victory is yours. Those femmes fatales from my twenties have parlayed
their attraction to grunting goofballs into a life of furtive
desperation populated by bawling brats, beer-bellied television zombies
and dreams of meeting a "nice guy."
Wishing you happiness as you cruise by those singles frantically
scrawling their cell-phone numbers on the window, faithful dog curled
by your side and the smile of the free man firmly planted on your
peaceful countenance.
Your curmudgeon in arms,
Dean Pulley
Tomahawk Island
Portland, Oregon
[ Previous Letter |
Tales from the pickup lane |
Next Letter ]