To Love And Be Left

I do hope that you don't read that title and get the impression that this is a melancholy, lovelorn expression of pain. It is not that at all. Rather, my intention is to explore another of the many things in human behavior that I do not understand. Perhaps I'm not wired correctly, or maybe I'm the only one who is. I'll let you decide that. Now the thing is for me that pursuing a woman is very, very tough. There's nothing strange about that, I'm certain. It's a long process that requires much effort and no small amount of material and capital investment. What's different is that I insist on long-term returns.

I suppose that sounds cold and dispassionate. Well, I think you have to take that attitude in the scenario I shall lay out now: Imagine that you meet a woman who is a knockout and who you think is just fantastic in every respect. You want to take a chance, so you begin the charm offensive. It's then that you discover some bad news. It's not a a ring on the finger, which for me means that at least for now she's off-limits but some day might not be, but a piece of news: she's only in town for a few days or maybe weeks.

The Collared Magnet

In many of the less creative comedies, you see bumbling single guys concocting and carrying out ploys to getting the attention of and win affection from attractive ladies. These ploys typically backfire with comical results. An implication is that the ladies need do nothing in order to get offers except wait until a good one comes in. They certainly never seem to attempt their own such maneuvers in order to make a match for themselves with some dream guy. I wonder if that's really so.

The other day, I happened to see something which may have been nothing more than it seemed, but which may have been a woman-driven date scheme. There I was, standing outside a coffee shop in a not entirely unfashionable area. I do love my people-watching, or as past readers may recall I own up to it being, gawking and staring. I had witnessed a gaggle of attractive young women sweep into the cafe, and thought no more of them. A minute or so later, another woman approached the place. I'm not sure she ever managed to get inside.

Fancy Free And In Charge

I have long been a fan of the Horatio Hornblower series of novels, which depict an officer of the British Navy rising through the ranks during the Napoleonic wars. A vivid picture is painted of life at sea. Back then, a captain took his ship out of port, and had no contact with his superiors for long stretches of time- sometimes many months. He would leave with orders and the discretion to complete them as he saw fit. He might periodically receive fresh order upon landing at some far-flung government outpost, but mostly was on his own. He was totally free and on his own, all kinds of authority and institution rolled into one in the eyes of his men.