Signs, Signs...Can't you read the signs?

South by Southwest (SxSW) has got to be one of my favorite events here in Austin. Thousands of bands at dozens of venues along with 100,000 of your closest friends. What's not to like. So at the most recent version I was hanging out at B.D. Riley's  when a typical occurrence happened in the on going War Between Men and Women (ahem, note the name of this blog).

I was standing at the back of the open area in front of the stage, the usual location for me. It gives me a good view of the band and is usually not that crowded so I don't have to worry about a random elbow. 

The next thing I know a cute female strolls up and stands next to me. Mind you, there are better viewing spots available. So this seemed a little odd. Was she like me and just wanted to avoid the mad pushing near the stage? Or was she sending me a sign? I looked at her and she casually ran her hand through her hair.

Ah, surely this was a sign that she was interested. Of course, right as I was about to cast out a line, her boyfriend walked up with a drink. Typical.

You see, women are notorious for sending out false signs, and just as notorious for wondering why we guys never can get their signals.

A few years ago there was a report about how men are worse at recognizing signs then women. I think this is because we've been bombarded by so many fake ones, that we no longer can distinguish a valid one from a fake.

For example, in the scene mentioned above I told how the female ran her hand through her hair. 

According to some "experts" on visual cues, this is a sign that a female is attracted to you. But time after time we guys discover this is seldom the case. It's more likely a female purposely misleading a male, or else she's oblivious to the message she is sending.

Also, the sign of moving close to someone is way too confusing. Sure, it's a little obvious when the place is nearly empty, but it's much more bewildering when there's a crowd. I remember numerous times when a female would stand near me and even move with me when the crowd shifted. 

 But on almost every occasion, after throwing a line, she would move away hurriedly. Oh, it could have been a lousy line, but it happens too often to be anything more than women sending mixed messages.

In the past I was crazy about hitting the nightclubs to hit the floor (dance) with whatever female was in the same mood. However, I've all but given that up due to one night at the old Continental Club . Not the current hip one, the previous one when it was darker and cooler. Anyway, on that night I asked 10 different females to dance.

 Not a one would join me. Most gave the signal that they wanted to dance. You know, like tapping their toes to the tune, dancing in place just off the floor. You've seen them. 

But they were false signs. Ever since that day I laugh when I hear the Cindy Lauper song, "Girls just want to have fun."  Yeah, right. That is why all those females acted like I was asking for a deep commitment, or maybe thought I was the Boston Strangler. It probably wouldn't have bothered me so much if they hadn't been sending those false signs.

The fake sign that bothers me the most though, is the one where you think the woman is ready to do the horizontal dance. 

For example, your date suddenly starts to exude compassion. She rubs your arm, squeezes your hand gently kisses you on the cheek or runs her hand through your hair. Well, in my case it usually is rub my head. But you've seen those signs. So when you slowly begin to unbutton her blouse and she grabs your hand to stop you, you know that once again you were the victim of the female mixed message sign.

So we guys will undoubtedly keep trying to decipher the signals we're getting. After all, our brains are constantly thinking of sex (not every seven seconds, but a lot) so we have to keep trying. But understand that if we sometimes act crazy, it's largely because we've been driven there by females planting those deceptive signs in the road to relationships.

Even I can get this sign

Yes, it's another Thurber Brigade rerun. I had different topic to write, but didn't have the motivation for the moment as I'm still reeling from the disasterous change in the White House (I'll blog about it later I'm sure). This 2013 blog seemed relevant to me though because recently, yet again, I attempted to chat up a woman, but clearly misread the sign. She had flashed at me several of the signs I mention above, but when I took the step to talk to her, she acted like I had broken into her house, ate her pet goldfish, drank all her beer and trashed her living room while watching porn on the TV. Okay, she just turned a cold shoulder but it seemed like that. So I decided to resurrect this blog about women, who won't make first contact themselves, but who don't always let us guys know if they are interested. Next time I promise to write something more original. Maybe. 

 

 

Untold Stories

In the Spielberg movie “Lincoln,” the president often regales visitors with stories to make a point. A funny scene happens when he begins a story and one of his cabinet members runs from the room decrying “oh no, not another one of his blasted stories.”

We all have stories we like to tell from time to time, but often we don't tell all of them. I seldom verbalize  my stories anymore for a number of reasons.

One is that I don't want friends running from the room. Also, I think that nowadays, because of our fascination with the instantaneous and fast media storm we get from modern devices, we no longer have an attention span longer than a minute (or less).

So many great stories are missed by my friends, who might really like them if they heard a few. So a blog is a perfect place to tell them, even if briefly, and then you can either skim them or jump to the witty conclusion.

For example, there's the story from one of my Australian trips when I got picked up by security. I had been hiking along the seaside through some thick brush on a skimpy trail when I came upon a large facility. It had a fence topped by barbed wire and looked like some electric or energy plant, or maybe even a discreet military site. When I got to a more open area, I was confronted by two armed guards. They hadn't drawn their weapons, but did grill me about what I was doing there.

I told them I was just hiking and hadn’t entered the facility. They led me to their Jeep though and after examining my Texas driver's license must have guessed I was just a kooky American and harmless. They drove me back to a road so I could head back to town and admonished me about hiking in dangerous remote areas.

“What would you have done if you fell down one of those cliffs?” One chided. Admittedly, the cliffs I hiked along were pretty steep and high, but hey, that's what adventures are all about.

Another adventure dealt with a female I liked. I discussed this in detail in one of my “near miss” blogs.  Crazy about a waitress in a Sixth Street bar, I made numerous visits to the place hoping for the courage to ask for her number. I finally did gain that courage and got her phone number, but because of weird circumstances lost it on the very same night. Although I attempted to regain it (and my courage) it never came to fruition again.

Some stories aren’t so melancholy, but frustrating.  While in the army (82^nd Airborne) I advocated for an enlisted person union. A pretty radical idea that someone should advocate for enlisted rights/needs in congress rather than some general who might go on to be a lobbyist for a corporation. Anyway, one of the methods the group I worked with used to gain acceptance, was a petition for a union.

One day we tried to gather signatures at a local shopping mall. We were tucked away in a back area (the mall couldn’t deny our request, but could make it less offensive to themselves) and some grisly older guy, who I assumed was a retired master sergeant, came up and began arguing. I became more hostile as I argued back, but I suddenly noticed that my friends had sat back and didn’t respond at all. Since they were more experienced and knowledgeable it surprised me.

Eventually the old guy gave up or lost his energy and left, so I asked them why they didn’t fight back.

“There are just some people you will never get to listen.  No matter the facts, they will never change their minds. There’s  no need to even try.”

That became one of my best lessons over the years and has helped guide me in discussions as well as attempts to meet females.

I have a large number of hiking stories similar to the Australian one above. For example, on visiting Mount St. Helens, I took a hiking trail from an observation point that wended around several hills and included parts of a path that was mere inches wide. At one point, there was a 1,000 foot drop down a rocky slope if you missed a step. I did get a better and closer look at the dormant volcano and so thought it worth the danger.

Jim Croce plays a big part in one or two of my stories as noted in another blog.  The best again deals with hiking. Most of the time that I go hiking I’m alone and in the back country.  Bears do not like to be surprised, and so when you hike in their areas, you should always make a lot of noise. Easier if you hike with friends and can chat about fun times in bars, etc, but more challenging when alone.

So I not only wear a bear bell attached to my belt, but I sing Jim Croce. So far, no bears have complained about my singing, although one time one came close to check out which song I was singing.

Of course, I also have stories in which I will only reveal part of the adventure.  One such happened on my birthday.  I believe it was my big Three Five.  Anyway, we had been out celebrating my birthday, mainly drinking Magnums at The Chili Parlor, and finally heading home.

Unlike many males, I tend to get super cautious when I drink and then drive. However, we were still going highway speed on I-35 in my old Datsun pickup when my friend, Lance, decided to continue being crazy. He opened the window on the passenger side and began to crawl out, headed for the bed of the pickup.  I shouted at him to stop, but he continued on. 

Amazingly he made it, and after screaming and shouting at passing traffic, repeated the dangerous maneuver back into the cab.  That exciting point of the story does not end the wild tale, but it’s the most I’ll relate at this time. The craziest part came later, but that I’ll save until I’m on my death bed. You’ll just have to visit then.

These are just a few of the many stories I have but never talk about (although I sometimes blog them).  I believe everyone has the same situation and have untold treasures just waiting to be described to anyone willing to listen. 

As a writer, I love hearing most of these, and so I often try to elicit them from people while hiking, when I hit bars or while I wait for a bus. 

So if you can stand putting away your cell phone for a few minutes, give it a try yourself sometime. You may hear some really funny or intense tales.  Even if not, at least you have made a connection that will provide a pleasant memory years from now. Maybe that encounter will become one of your stories.

James Thurber told some great stories

Set Your Soul On Fire

Back in the 80s, AIDS protestors (protesting lack of funding/concern by the government) took to the streets across the country. Police were so afraid they might get the disease—even though the protestors may not have it and ignoring the science that stated you couldn't get it by mere contact—that they wore gloves in case they needed to touch one of the demonstrators.

Obviously, this enraged the protesters even more as it showed how they were treated as less than human. I remember seeing newscasts about these and the image stayed in my subconscious. When I thought about a follow up to my book TAX BREAK, these images came back. My mind played around with it all and finally suggested to me “what if these protestors decided to kick it up a notch?”

So SOULS ON FIRE tells that story. These activists decide to resort to terrorism to make their point. They embrace the Viking belief that it's better to die fighting for your beliefs than whither away in bed. They attack banks to get money to support themselves and attack the police to get revenge.

In a way, it also reflects the mindset of the people in the Warsaw ghetto during WWII. The people knew the Nazis would inevitably kill them, so they might as well fight back to the best of their ability.

 AIDS is a major theme of the book, but a more subtle one, albeit just as important, is PTSD.  I modeled the story a bit like “Soldier's Home” by Ernest Hemingway. An engrossing (and depressing) story about a young man who returns from WWI and is drastically changed from his prewar self.

This doesn't hit you in the face, but you can begin to see it in the character by the flashbacks he experiences. I won't say much more about this as I don't want to spoil it for you (and it's important when you read any book that you discover what the author is saying) but when you read it think about whether anything is odd or if his judgement has changed.

This book also delves more into Austin then the previous book. I'm in love with this city and you get to learn about its politics, environment, well, the nature of the city. Of course, I also had to mention a great musician who graced the city (and one of its great music venues from the day).

A writing point about the book: it's really short. According to one book seller you should be able to read it within three hours. As I wrote it I kept having this weird internal battle that on one hand said go into more detail, but on the other said, well, the kids today have an attention span of five seconds, so keep it short buster. Okay, I admit that even I sometimes skim books these days so I can get to the grist. So it was for me too.

On a personal note, this took me a long time to write.  I began the project in 2008 and slowly worked on completing it over the next 10 years.  I could blame that because a few years before beginning I got hit by a car while biking and my house burned down, but I am not sure those still weighed on my thoughts. 

It might have also stemmed from being depressed about lack of sales for my other books or how difficult it had been to get short stories published (I have quite a few that succeeded).  However, I have a feeling it’s more likely that it’s that I seem to get distracted easily these days.  Oh, is there a football game on right now?  Maybe.

I hope this insight into SOULS ON FIRE intrigued you enough to give it a try.  Think of it as a great distraction you can complete reading on your next long flight.  Or that you believe you’ll be dragged into this action-packed novel because it delves into important social issues. Whatever your reason, I hope you enjoy it and that it does more than entertains you, but also causes you to pause and think.  It sure did that to me as I wrote it.

Ahhh, James Thurber

 A short description of SOULS ON FIRE:

In 1985 AIDS activists slaughter police and terrorize Austin in the new blockbuster mystery SOULS ON FIRE.  Buy it now to discover if a movie-addicted police detective and his former CIA agent and bar-owner friend can stop the violence that engulfs the city.

FaceBook page:

https://www.facebook.com/SoulsOnFire.JayW/

The Effort

There are a number of hiking trails that you can travel when you go to one of our beautiful National Parks such as Olympic (pictured above). The trails range from easy to difficult; from short to long. How far you hike depends on how much time you want to spend and the effort you’re willing to expend.

That's the same way it goes for hitting the trails, uh, bars and nightclubs, and seeking out women. Let me remind you, As I've pointed out numerous times, it's up to the male to make first contact.  So the male must carefully weigh if making the effort is worth the time, money and emotional risk.

It can be perilous, but often the journey is as enjoyable as the destination.

I bring this up because as I age I have made some changes in my evaluation as to effort level. In the past factors might include a female's looks, athletic ability (hey, I got a degree in Phys Ed as well as Journalism), voice, well, a lot of superficial things because on first contact you don't really have much else to go by.

Nowadays, I've begun to add age. 

Yes, I blogged about older men going for younger females, but this is more about making the effort. We older guys like to chase younger females because of their looks obviously, but also it makes us feel younger too (and boosts self esteem). Of course, when weighing the effort level, it also figures in that younger age increases the effort value. If we're still going by superficial values (we still don't know if they have a great personality until we make the effort) then why not go younger?

All of this doesn't mean that we older guys are not attracted to older women, or won't try to go out with them. It just means we are less likely to make the bigger effort. We want to hike the shorter trails with older females.

The problem is that females still want to play those old, wily games they could get away with when younger even as they age out of the long trail hike range.

Even though older, and perhaps wiser, they still refuse to try first contact, still are coy about talking/interacting to an approaching male, well, you know their guile. If you exchange numbers, they still refuse to call first. They still won't make an early commitment. Still don't think they need to make much effort to keep things rolling.

A number of years ago I remember reading an article that noted that older women were less likely to get remarried than men.  Although the gap is closing (from more recent studies) there is still a difference and my guess is because of the effort quotient. Guys just prefer younger females and are more likely to make the effort for them than for older ones. Again, it’s not that they wouldn’t try, it’s just the older the less likely to make the effort.

So just as I postulated in one of my earliest blogs, that love was a math equation, likewise, it again boils down to math when it comes to chasing a mate. As the female’s age goes up, the male’s effort level goes down. It just adds up.

The Tightrope

To start a conversation with a woman, men must walk a precarious tightrope these days. As we walk along that thin thread we dare not look down. Breathing wrong might cause a dangerous movement. Lose focus and you lose balance.

Fall and you end up as a social media pariah, an outcast, or worst case, plunge into a lawsuit.  Navigate that rope and you might end up with a relationship.  Might.

As mentioned before, men must make First Contact.  Well, that is unless the man is rich or a rock star (or both). To make First Contact men face rejection, putdowns, derision and more.  However, to maintain the species we must forge forward.  Okay, that's overly dramatic, but to get anywhere, men must risk it.

In a previous blog, I also talked about men making catcalls.  The gist of that insightful essay (really, you should read it), was that it stems from our primal need to mate and that through the eons, the methods to begin the process have changed.  Some men are idiots, some suave (and everything between).  Taking the first step, making First Contact, is the same.

The #MeToo phenomena has made the walk on the tightrope even more perilous.

Oh, I strongly support women coming out and reporting about sexual assaults.  Women need to keep doing this as well as not letting someone get away with the action when it occurs. 

WARNING: Blogger about to rant in an unpleasant and less than friendly manner.

Men who greet women at the door naked, expose themselves, send dick pix, and other disgusting modes of abuse are slimy lowlife, scumbags who should be strung up by their junk…

Oops, sorry got carried away.  Anyway, there is no place for sexual assault in our society.  However, the pendulum shouldn’t swing too far the other way either.

For example, I’ve already heard several news stories about waitresses, service industry women and others stating they were sexually harassed.  Yet, when they give more details it sounds like flirting.  This harkens back to a number of years ago when extreme feminists declared that anytime a man made a pass at a woman it was an unwarranted sexual assault. 

There has to be a balance.  Women need to understand the difficulty of the process.

My father met my mother eons ago at a lunch counter in a drug store.  He flirted with her and eventually got the courage up to ask her out.  This was—and is—a common occurrence. 

Some enchanted evening, you may see a stranger across a crowded room.  Then fly to her arms and make her your own—stop you sexual predator!  For you youngsters, those lines are from “South Pacific” and demonstrate why we need to have a balance.  If just meeting and talking to a stranger is harassment, then do we return to the old days of arranged marriages?

Centuries from now, as we’re exploring the stars and distant galaxies, maybe women will make First Contact.  Overcome their fears and reach out to that alien who caught their eye.  Ask him out to a space bar for a Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster (cheap “Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy” plug).

Until then, women need to understand the difficulties of First Contact.  They need to realize that we guys will likely continue to make that First Contact everywhere we go (we’re always on the prowl).  From the gym and grocery stores to the bars and nightclubs, we men will seek out women.  Women shouldn’t allow perversion or assault, but they need to recognize our attempts—no matter how feeble or crazy or goofy—to get to know them. 

Ahh, James Thurber

Throw Me A Line

In the distant past, well, really only about four years, I wrote a blog about how men "throw lines" to begin the process of interacting with females. It gave some sage advice, ahem, and also mentioned how women don't throw lines (just like they don't make first contact. It's related).  Anyway, I suddenly realized very recently that I no longer throw lines.

Well, normally. If my testosterone levels go off the scale, say in the case of a supermodel-esque female's presence, I might. For the most part though, I instead just try to engage the female in conversation. It could be something like, "did you see the news report about the water in Barton Springs?" (A big issue here in Austin), or "I always drink a cup of water when I have a beer. It's part of my "save Jay's liver campaign.""

Oh, sure, you could say that is still throwing a line, but it's nowhere in the realm of "what's a super model doing here at the local bar?" Or "you must be a thief because you've stolen my heart" (Heard those, didn't use them).  No, it's just me trying to get someone to talk to me. No different really than if a guy sat next to me at the bar and I wanted to do more than just drink my beer or work on a blog. i.e. Talk.

It could be age. Maybe I'm so old (hey, no snide thoughts there buster) that I no longer believe I have the silver tongue of my youth or that I no longer possess the youthful imperative that young males have to hook up. However, I think it's that I have just become more accepting of the situation. In other words, I have the thought that if the target wants to engage good, if not, no big deal.

In the old days, I'm positive I was the master of throwing lines. For example, I remember telling a women drinking wine at a brewpub: "You know it's against the law to drink wine at a beer brewing establishment?  So I'm going to have to ask you for some ID." Or one I'm still not proud of, but it seemed to work: I made a bet with my buddy this morning that I would meet the most beautiful woman in the world and it looks like he owes me ten bucks."

Now, before you judge me too harshly, remember this was the 70s-80s and Austin.  Women were much different in attitude back then and if not more accepting of goofy lines, more understanding of how difficult it is for guys making contact. Even today I trust women understand the challenges of a guy making contact when he's alone and there are two females or when two guys are winging it and encounter a single (nervous) woman.

I also feel obligated to mention that the venues of those years were completely different then today. In Austin we had fantastic and cool places to hang such as The Split Rail, The Back Room, Steamboat and everyone's favorite The Armadillo.  Ahhhh. Throwing lines at those places was so common and expected and, well fun, that everyone just went with it.

Oops, I digress.  Be careful when an Austinite begins a sentence with "in the old days in Austin...".

Anyway, I don't do that anymore. Yes I'm older and admittedly I'm not as successful as in my youth, but part of the problem is that many older women still think they are teenagers. One of my rules is that if a female I'm interested in is past the age of 35 she may no longer play games.

Oh, you know what I'm talking about. Things like acting coy/aloof when in fact she is interested; not willing to say more than yes and no to the guy's questions when she really wants to tell him her life history; unwilling to call him after they exchange numbers even though she's already put him on speed dial. You get it.

Too many older women gripe about us dudes going out with younger females (the reason behind my hunting tips blog) but still want to act like the situation has not changed. Well, it has.  If we have to risk the perils and depression of rejection, why not take a chance on a younger model?  If we must always take the chance that we will become the butt of numerous females complaints about men being animals for our brash desire to be with a female, why not go for someone not jaded by years of relationships they disliked but were unwilling to take a bold step and try to start a new one on their own?

I'm sure there are other older guys out there who still feel the imperative that tells them they must go home with a female. However, I have encountered quite a few like me who accept that if we succeed it's great, yet don't despair if we go home alone. After all, although it's sure nice to wake up with a warm body beside you, it's also nice to be able to watch football all day without someone reminding us to mow the lawn, or to be able to drink beer late into the night and watch "Die Hard" or other action movies instead of having wine and cheese parties.

(oh, you knew I was going to drop a Bruce Willis picture in here somewhere, right?)

So females need to drop the games and do their part to reach out to someone or quit complaining when they see us old geezers with a younger, partying-crazy version of themselves.

 Ahhh, James Thurber!

Whew, aren't you glad this wasn't another sidestep about police brutality or some other topical issue? Although there are plenty of lousy things going on right now, we at The Thurber Brigade believed we needed to get back on track. However, with the weirdness that is the Donald Trump candidacy and the ever present police anger management-less force on the streets, there's no guarantee that a sidestep won't reappear.