Saturday 4 April 2020

Women who remain in your eternal memory

“Don’t cut your flowers and keep your wreaths.”

In spite of coming across as a cynic in romanticism, relationship longevity likelihood and female misdemeanour terms – as, in the main, a by-product of experience, opening my eyes and ears, and acknowledging and accepting what truly goes on in life – the fact is I was, hand on heart, a romantic at heart many years ago. 

Whilst I’m far happier and productive in life as the man who signed up to the reality of red pill truisms in replacement of blue bill ideology, the down side of a man living in the real world, in full acknowledgement that anything can happen when face to face with romance, is that I perhaps never quite reach the pinnacle of love than when my once naivety allowed me to.  Don’t get me wrong, I was never a man with his head in the clouds in this respect, but I did allow my heart to open up far more easily back then.  This phase in my life was concurrent with not really knowing how women’s minds worked in love, lust, and all counts of relationship, dating or fornication aspects.  In a weird kind of way, I even miss being that innocent thinking guy on isolated occasions of today.

It’s also somewhat perplexing that despite being a man who has never settled down, and naturally because of this circumstance I have experienced casual sexual intimacy and short/medium term relationships with far more women than the average man, there are a select few women who will always stay in my memory until my dying day.  It still amazes me how I could go months or years without even a second’s thought towards them, yet one day or random occasion can bring back those all those treasured moments in my mind.  Maybe it is the current predicament of self-isolation that is giving us all more time to stray with the fairies, but I recall one particular young woman who epitomizes this reminiscent habit.

The story goes….

It is over ten years ago now, and me and a friend went to Cancun, Mexico on a week’s vacation in the early part of June.  The first couple of nights weren’t too eventful, consisting of jet-lag adrenalin on the first evening and dabbling with American girls on the next.  By the third night, we went to a club arranged by the hotel, and by not much later than midnight I already felt quite pissed.  I remember having drinks vouchers to use, but at that moment I just joined the queue for a water in order to sober up a bit.

As I made the end of the bar, from recollection it was like the bar staff ignored me whether by accident or deliberation.  This enforced me to join the back of the queue once more.  I recalled a tall, long blonde-haired woman in the corner of my eye behind me as we queued, and as I walked to the back of the queue, so did she.  In understandable but broken English, she said to me:
“Could you please do me a favour and order my drink, because I think they are ignoring me.”
When I looked at the writing on the voucher, it stated ‘Sex on the Beach’.  I just smirked and nodded to myself, casually then looking across to her, but the smile on her face as she looked me in the eye was a giveaway that she was fully attracted to me. 
I acquired her drink and my water, and she asked me where I was from.  When I joked that it is England even though I don’t look English, she told me she was German but had lived in the United States for the last six years.  She was of Caucasian race, but with a glowing natural tan.  We had a brief five-minute chat, including the fact I had been in Germany only a couple of weeks previous, and I think she was equally impressed and amused as I poorly attempted a few lines in German to her.  She was only 18 at the time, although I thought, and my friends agreed, that she looked nearer 22 or 23.
If I’m brutally honest, she wasn’t then, and wouldn’t be today if the day was relived, my absolute type.  I was always more instinctively attracted to long haired brunettes of around 5ft 4” to 5ft 6” height, and this woman was blonde and a fraction over 5ft 10” wearing flats.  She asked me if I would like to help her find her friends, to which as I nodded, she grabbed my hand.  We found them after a few minutes, and I could sense how proud she was to introduce me to them.  For the record, my mate was with another group of men from our hotel.  I would never just leave a friend stranded when it is only two of us.

As the night went on, my attraction onto her grew by the minute.  She was facially as pretty as you would see on any female out there, with perfect teeth to suit.  Her body was of curvaceous dimensions that I crave for – not too skinny, but just right.  Nice and firm natural breasts, natural nails, lip gloss as opposed to lipstick, and classy dressed without over-trying. 

But a close second to all the physical attributes was her personality.  Granted, the language (especially in a loud nightclub) was a slight problem due to English not being her mother tongue, but I don’t recall not understanding anything she said.  As we sat down for a bit and occasionally kissed, it was clear she was not someone who slept around and who could be great girlfriend material. 

As the night drew to a close and I waited for a taxi, she made sure I took her mobile number.  I texted her the next afternoon informing which nightclub we were planning to go to that night, but I received no response.  I remember being a bit gutted at the time, but hey ho, just another woman in a holiday of thousands.  At least this is what I was trying to tell myself, anyway.  In physical attractiveness terms I was more than confident in finding another woman who could get my balls just as hard and be as objectively hot.  At the end of the day, when there are thousands and thousands of American and Canadian (and a decent to small percentage of Mexican and British women respectively) in their late teens to early twenties, how hard would this be!?  Nevertheless, I do remember thinking how much harder it would be to find someone who comes across as far more pure, loyal, faithful, compatible and likeable. 

That next night came around, and as we went to the nightclub, I bumped into another English guy who had hooked up with her friend that same previous night.  He told me the woman I met had seen me and really wanted me to go up to her once more.  I was a bit bewildered considering she hadn’t replied that day, but I did venture up to her.  She immediately said she was disappointed I hadn’t contacted, to which I immediately showed her the text.  The glee in her face was all to be seen – totally genuine and not faked to cover up bullshit – as she said I had inputted the wrong overseas dialling code in.  Basically, she never received the text because of this.

Our attraction grew that night, but even with very little game or knowledge of female emotional psychology back then, I still had subconscious thought-process that I was in control of things.  Deep down I knew she liked me more than the inverse, although come the following night I felt the gap was being bridged.  In a weird way I was falling for her, even though in theory the next night was my last night (her penultimate night) to see her and the last night we would ever see each other in our lives. 

So along came the final night.  We both knew we were, with our respective hotel parties, going to a club called Coco Bongo.  It was a huge two-level nightclub, and I didn’t see her anywhere for the first hour.  I was really close to just leaving alone, as I had no interest to be with any other woman.  I recall taking a toilet break and thinking I won’t let my pride get in the way, so I text her stating a recognizable meeting place.  As I sent my text, almost like magic one came into me from her asking if I was in Coco Bongo.  Like further magic, as I read the text, I looked to my right to see a frustrated looking tall blonde staring at her phone.  As our eyes met it was just like an act of fate from the big man above.  No matter what happened from there on in, I think we both just wanted closure from that last night.  Anything from there was just a case of what will be will be.

Time that night (maybe four hours together) felt like a matter of minutes.  We parted ways, and she asked me to text when I arrived home safe.  As it turned out, I text her before my flight the next day.  Again, this text didn’t get through, but when I arrived back in England I looked at my phone and there were texts from her, sent during her last night in Senor Frogs, saying how much she missed me.

The long and the short from there was that I suggested we tried to continue this “thing” we had.  I knew she was back in Germany for the summer which logistically made things a bit easier, and she without hesitation agreed.  I wasn’t sure if she was just appeasing me by saying yes, but it was clear in the coming days that she was a rare woman with more walk than talk.  Most women are the opposite – they talk the talk, but don’t back it up with actions.

We did continue things for a few months, going back and forth on flights, but naturally it fizzled out.  If I look back, in hindsight I didn’t make a good transition from being the one less keen to being the one who tried harder than the other.  I don’t think it had too much of a negative effect on things though, as she was more inclined towards nice guys than the average woman, but my giving, appeasing and endeavouring ways definitely didn’t help.

Q-tip 1:
You will often be faced with a balance to strike, and time doesn't always allow you to evaluate the balance you should take.  The general rule of thumb is that the more physically attractive a man is, the more leeway he has to be nice (and get away with it, sometimes even be looked upon favourably being this way) with women, and the less leeway, or at least less required inclination, he has to act more like a jerk.  Nevertheless, this school of thought has to be assessed in association with the rule of thumb that the hotter the woman is, the more she is attracted to and will sway towards jerks (hence will give jerks more leeway for being jerky), and the less she is attracted towards nice guys (hence the more put off she is with nice guy traits).

The rarest of woman

I’ve been involved in adult relationships of any kind with women for over fifteen years of my life, and I think this anecdote is testament to how many women you will meet in your life who truly leave a mark on your existence.  Not many at all, that’s for sure.  I’d go as far to say that you may get three opportunities at the most in a lifetime to meet a woman who hits all, or nearly all, the boxes.  By the way, this goes for women too in finding men.

The woman at the heartbeat of this post not only hit me on a physical attractiveness level, but she was someone I enjoyed being with in companion terms too.  I could trust her, in the small timeframe we were together, and over time, and more pertinently at that time in my life, I could have married her.  We never actually discussed the subject, but I think she had only slept with one other man before me.  If the truth be told, you could tell she lacked experience in this department.  It’s not inconceivable I was her first, but if I was a betting man I’d go with my former bet.

Because how many hot women have I met in my life who instigated the interest with me?  Not many at all.  This isn’t to say that many other women haven’t approached me, it’s just not what I would call hot women.  This is simply because 99% of hot women would not proact with a man on equal looks terms, or even slightly below, as they prefer the ego thrill rush of a lesser looking man.  The hot women I have dated have, naturally, waited for me to make the move.

But what I liked about this woman was that whilst she was proactive, she delivered it concurrently to innocence and shyness characteristics.  It was as if her physical urge outweighed her inhibitions and ego, and she would put her heart first.  Finding women like this in today’s word is like finding rocking horse shit. 

Q-tip 2:
Love does exist, and when found it is the most powerful, valuable and memorable commodity you will ever buy.  What is even more special is that is comes for free.  Unfortunately, love is like an item on your grocery list.  It is ultimately perishable, with a short to medium term shelf life.