What In Blue Blazer(s) ?

Her words swirl around in my head, and tug at the sides of my mouth…and I’m trying hard not to smile. Smugly. Nobody likes a smug smile…except maybe the smug smiler. Certainly not the smug smile-ee. And that would be my Lady Wonder Wench. Now…I’m pretty sure my Lady Wonder Wench is watching. The woman was a sales lady, and she said, “My what a nice body.” And she was talking about me. And my Lady Wonder Wench was standing right there. And Lady Wonder Wench is sitting on the couch right across the room from me right now, and from the expression on her face I know she knows what I’m thinking. And she’s thinking, “The woman didn’t mean it, she’s a sales person.” And I’m thinking “Yes she did. But I know from experience I better not smile. Because I know Lady Wonder Wench will roll her eyes, sigh, and put her hand on her hip again. And I hate that.

 I mentioned the other day that I was going to wear my gold lame loin cloth and purple ostrich feather for my dinner date last Friday with Lady Wonder Wench. I saw it start her thinking process…which went something like this: “He really hasn’t bought any clothes since the Clinton administration. I’m going to clear out his closet.”

 The thing most women including my Lady Wonder Wench don’t really understand is that it takes time for a guy to break in his clothing so it’s comfortable. Even Louie-Louie Generation ladies don’t seem to understand that. A guy’s jacket is just getting broken in after a decade or so. As long as I can still zip up a pair of jeans, they’re good to go. A guy wears a shirt for three or four days…as long as it passes the under the arms sniff test, what’s wrong with wearing it one more day?

 But one thing Louie-Louie Generation guys know is we should never argue with a woman when she’s tired…or rested. And we know we have as much chance of winning a clothing argument with a woman as we have of talking her into having sex on a trampoline, in the company of a pair of acrobatic conjoined twins and a dog named Oscar. A guy no sooner brings up the subject, when he gets hit with, “You men…all you think about is sex. Sex isn’t everything.” Well, they’re right. Sex ISN’T everything. But it is really SOMETHING. If God has something better than sex up His sleeve, he’s keeping it all for Himself.

 Big Louie, his own bad self, the Chief Mustard Cutter of the Louie-Louie Generaton has an important statement about that. He says, “If sex isn’t such an important part of a relationship, how come she’d get so upset if you had sex with somebody else?” I think Louie nailed it that time. If sex is no more important than a smile, why can’t I just go and have sex with the next willing woman I meet at the clothing store ? Hey, I’d probably get kicked out of the entire mall for that. But it might be worth a shot.

 That brings us back to the clothing store. My Lady Wonder Wench decided she’s had enough of my gold lame loin cloth and purple ostrich feather. She decided it was time to buy a whole suit. I never wear suits. She said, “You need a suit.” I said, “I hate suits.” And that was a mistake. As Big Louie says, “If you have words with a woman, she’ll have paragraphs with you.”

 So…after a substantial while…we compromised. She took me to the store for a sport jacket. She took me. I have no idea where to go to buy clothes around here because we only moved in 15 years ago. We walked into the store, and this very attractive young lady with a tape measure around her neck, and a clear excess of estrogen all over the rest of her, came over, smiled, and said it. “You have a beautiful body.” I stood up straight and pulled in my chest, which has sunk to a position just behind my belt buckle, ever since I became a certified ice cream whisperer…and gave her my best Clint Eastwood smile…and I did my best Barry White imitation when I said, “Why thank you young lady.”

 My Lady Wonder Wench just put her right hand on her hip, sighed, and rolled her eyes. She’s been down this road before. She explained to the girl that I’m so old that my blood type has been discontinued, gave her that “woman-to-woman look” that said, “We’re both safe. He’s completely lost what was left of his sex drive.”

 And I must admit that’s true. I lost my sex drive once last night and twice this morning. But I’m looking at my Lady Wonder Wench over there on the couch, and I’m pretty sure I’ll find it again in a few minutes. 

 Dick’s Details Quiz. All answers are in the current podcast.

1-    How do boy oysters talk girl oysters into making little oysters?

2-    How was milk delivered before they started using bottles?

3-    What might the aliens among us look like ?

Dick’s Details. They take your mind off your mind.

 She was a Louie-Louie Generation sales Lady. She knew very well the effect saying, “You have a beautiful body” would have on my testosterone levels. And she knew she was perfectly safe, because my Lady Wonder Wench was right there. We all knew when she said “You have a beautiful body” it was just a little flirty fun.

 There’s a big difference between flirting and playing with fire. There’s a story in the brand new Night Connections 3 album about a fire that started when a woman didn’t even have to say a thing. Her body did the talking. It’s called “Taking A Breath.”

 If you ever see what happened…happen…and I have…you will never forget it. A beautiful woman, sitting so slowly…so gracefully…like just an unexpected whisp of very expensive perfume that gets caught in the air of an otherwise empty, candle lit room.

 The story is called, “Taking a Breath.” It’s from the brand new Night Connections 3 personal audio cd. If you like it, you can just keep the podcast. Or if you want a fresh copy, just go back to the opening page, and download it from the Night Connections 3 icon.

So now I have a nice blue blazer jacket. I think it will go nicely with my gold lame loin cloth and purple ostrich feather. I may even add a touch of eyelid glitter. Or maybe not. My Lady Wonder Wench is sitting there on the couch, smiling…because she thinks she knows what I’m thinkig. And I think she may be right. So…I think I’ll just get what’s left of my sex drive in gear, and motor my beautiful body on over to the couch…and get a little closer to that smile.

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