Thursday, November 26, 2009

It's all about control

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Monday, November 9, 2009

Everything a man does he does to get laid

This topic was sparked by Silvia-Mckenzie's Tweets about a debate on Everything a man does he does to get laid. I responded on Twitter, but the topic deserves a deeper response.

Humans are animals, and as such everything we do is tied to a continuation of our species. Everything. Or at least, everything we do is the result of our biological imperative to continue the species. For non-humans the link is always obvious, for example when puppies and kittens "play" they are practicing hunting skills. For humans the link may be more circuitous, but it is there. Sports, for example, are linked to our practice of hunting and survival (e.g., defense of self and the group) skills. Even baseball. Does anyone think that the ability to hit a target the size of an animal with a 95 MPH fastball might be related to our ability to take down game with a rock? I sure do. Any wonder that men are more into sports then women? Playing with dolls is about preparing to raise children. Any wonder that girls are more into dolls than boys? Those very same boys who, having never seen a war movie or been allowed to own GI Joe can be found in the back yard playing soldier?

The thing about humans is, our brains let us channel biological imperatives far beyond the obvious and break "the rules". Take music. I have no idea how music ties in to our biological imperatives, except perhaps for one word: Groupies. Ok, so that is a special case. But it appears to be a generalization...music helps encourage reproduction ("sex") and thus humans have developed it into a high art form. Music may have other continuation of the species benefits, but do any of us really care? Certainly not the guys (and gals) who make the music. You join a rock band to get laid. You are a roadie to get laid. You put on a Barry White 8-track (sorry, MP3) when a woman is visiting in order to get laid. Got it?

Of course the biggest example is S-E-X. We are programmed to have sex to reproduce. And that means intercourse. But humans took this drive and turned it into every imaginable sexual activity. And some unimaginable ones. The rest of the animal kingdom pretty much sticks with intercourse, because they are just following the reproduction programming. Well then, how much other human male activity is tied to "getting laid".

We do things for three reasons:

1) To maintain our own personal survival
2) To maintain the survival of our group (and thus offspring)
3) To create offspring

There are no other reasons. Obviously #3 is directly tied to getting laid. Men were designed to impregnate as many women as possible. There is no real need to discuss this, just look at how men's genitals work. What about #2? What really motivates a man to want to protect and provide for the group? Why not just look our for ourselves? Well, women are attracted to men who provide for and protect them and their offspring. And even in this day and age, when women can largely provide for themselves, a man who doesn't take care of his family is widely looked down upon (by both women and other men alike). So, unless you can protect and provide for the group you are unlikely to get laid. Thus, men are driven by their desire to have sex to provide for and protect the group. Further, women seem biologically driven to seek out the men who can best provide for them and their offspring. They may say "money doesn't matter", but in reality their genetics encourages them to have sex with wealthy men over poor men. And thus, men are driven to success.

That leaves us with #1. Well, you can't reproduce if you aren't alive and reasonably healthy. Men keep themselves alive in order to reproduce. So yes, that sip of coffee you just had was really just part of getting you ready to get laid.

What does this all mean? Does it really matter? Humans are at the core animals with all of the animal kingdom's biological imperatives. Our brains let us reach far beyond those imperatives, and do things without clear links to those imperatives. But if you drill down deep enough, everything is motivated by the need continue the species. Which means reproduce. Which means getting laid.

Why I haven't been posting...

I know I haven't been posting much here. I do have a backlog of topics, but beyond having time constraints I've been concentrating my activity on Twitter (http://www.twitter.com/paramour425). But I really should start posting here again.

Thursday, September 10, 2009

Five Years

If I'd known how important the date would become to me I'd have recorded it for posterity. Alas, all I know is it was sometime around "now" in 2004. I was doing work for a client of mine in the Pacific NW and decided an upcoming trip would be a good time for my annual extra-curricular adventure. I'd come across an ad on Eros for one "Fallon Delicio" and was immediately captivated by her. After reading every word on her website I realized this was a woman I just had to meet. Fallon had a booking form that was, to say the least, unique. It was more like what one would expect from eHarmony.com, that is questions to ascertain compatibility than the matter of fact time/location details and safety-oriented questions that most paid companions ask. Amused, I filled out the form and awaited Fallon's response. Fallon expressed disappointment that I had no children, but apparently I otherwise passed her bar and a dinner date was set up. It was a date that would change my life.

I keep meaning to write the details of how Fallon seduced me, but that will have to wait. What is important is that after spending a few hours with Fallon, better known as Silvia-Mckenzie Navah, my once a year philosophy was put on hold and I arranged to see her on my next trip. Then on the next. And by November she was my mistress. Five years later I have trouble finding words that adequately describe our relationship. She is my lover, my mistress, my paramour. She is a source of constant joy. A spark of life that powers me. A woman I admire, respect, and treasure above all others (indeed, above all women or men). She is perfect (and that is meant both sincerely, and as an inside joke). She is the reason this blog is titled "Ramblings of a Happy Man". And if anyone hasn't figured it out, I love her.

Silvia, it has been an incredible five year. Here's to 50 more!

Wednesday, September 2, 2009

On the hypocracy of my calling women frumpy...

Ok, I've developed a real pet peave about frumpy women. That reason is simple, I've run into so many awesome looking women in their 30s, 40s, and 50s that it is pretty clear most of the rest just don't take care of themselves. Yes, women can be so hot in their 40s and 50s that it makes one wonder why middle-aged men ever get interested in those 20 year olds. Well, perhaps because so many women in their 40s and 50s "let themselves go". But that isn't my real topic here.

I've always dressed "down". It's part of my generation, my career, my persona. Yet for a while now I've wanted to change that. I started to a few years back, after losing some weight. I started to buy, and wear with more frequency, nicer clothing. Then I gained back just enough of the weight to make wearing those newly bought items impossible. Damn! I refused to buy new nice clothing in the bigger size, so I'm quickly wearing everything out and have little to wear. Then a couple of recent events made me dress down even more. Oh my god, if you can apply the word frumpy to a man I'm getting there.

So, here is where I'm at. I'm going to quickly get back down to the weight I was at when I bought some nicer things and then keep pushing to the weight I really want to live at. I'm back to working out regularly, and will push some goals there I haven't been at for about three years. And then I'm going to buy a whole bunch of new clothing and try to relegate bluejeans to occasions that realy justify them!

Can I do it? Well, now that it is in the category of something to be conquered I think so. That mountain just has to be leveled. "I wanna kill. Kill. KILL" :-)

Monday, August 24, 2009

The benefits of being flexible

No, not that kind of flexible (which being a middle-aged man, I’m not).  I’m talking about the kind of flexible where you don’t get overly fixated on one particular plan.  In other words, the ability to go with the flow.  And to do it without actually being directionless.  I happen to be someone who doesn’t usually freak out when plans change.  And when it comes to my love life, I actually embrace it.  I find that it means more adventure, more intimacy, more intensity, more variety, and an ever better connection with my lover.   Maybe another way to put it is that I keep my eye on the long term.  There are an infinite number of paths to get there, all with their own joys and pleasures.  And I don’t care which path is explored on any given day.  I’m always moving to where I want to be, and taking in those joys and pleasures along the way.

The Fine (lost?) Art of Girl-Watching

One of my favorite past-times is “girl watching”.  While I believe all men (and I expect women) engage in this practice, changes in our lifestyle have caused some of the “art” to go out of it.  This is definitely not a change for the better.

I engage in girl watching all the time, alone or with one of my favorite partners (either my BFF, or my lover), but for some reason it really has been on my mind a lot this summer.  Perhaps that’s because my BFF has spent the summer insisting that we meet in the very best spots for girl watching rather than necessarily choosing based on the quality of food or other useful characteristics.  Or perhaps it is because my lover and I like to keep each other amused with messages about the hotter women we spot (or, sadly, about how so many women let “frumpy” take over their lives).  In any case, I’ve been doing a lot of girl watching and realized just how un-productive it has become (even ignoring the one time my BFF and I lucked out and tried a mediocre restaurant that just happened to have some women playing beach volleyball next to it).

What do I mean by unproductive?  Well, anyone who has worked in the downtown area of a major city (think New York or Chicago) and now works in a suburban office park understands.  If you’ve ever worked someplace like Wall Street then you know all you have to do at lunch time is stand outside the front of your office building and a parade of lovelies that rivals the Miss America pageant will, well, parade on by.  In 30 minutes you get to gaze at dozens, if not hundreds, of women dressed to the hilt.  Not a one would be caught dead in flats (unless they are on their way home, but that is a subtlety that only those in the know understand).  All of them trying to look their best without crossing some imaginary line of being “too sexy at work”.  And somehow, perhaps because they all put so much effort into looking good,  they seemingly all did.   And so, instead of partaking of all the fine restaurants nearby we would snarf down a sandwich at our desks then wander downstairs for the sightseeing.  By we I am talking about millions of American men, but also specifically about my BFF and I.   We were young, and those were the days!

Now I dare you, snarf down that sandwich and head on outside to the front of your typical suburban office park building and count the number of women who go by in 30 minutes that could be the subject of your fantasies.  Between the low traffic, and the tendency for (both men and)  women who inhabit these places to dress down, you’ll likely fall asleep within 10 minutes.  It just isn’t an environment conducive  to girl watching.   If you want a prime example of the downfall of  “American Civilization”, this is it!

Now I know that I’m a part of the problem.  I work in a suburban office park.  I dress (way) down most of the time.  And I have a tendency to refer to people who dress up for work as “suits” (meaning all show and no substance).  I’ve become a product of my environment.  At the same time, I know I look better in a suit than in my preferred blue jeans.  So rather than just complain about the situation I have an offer to make.  If the women of America will go back to dressing to the hilt, even when working in the suburbs, I’ll do the same.  Your move.