If you're new here, this is a weekly column consisting of letters written to my grandchildren (who exist) and my great-grandchildren (who aren't here yet) — the Stickies — to haunt them after they become grups and/or I'm dead.
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"Women need a reason to have sex. Men just need a place." —Billy Crystal
Dear (eventual) Grandstickies & Great-Grandstickies,
And why did she push it out the window?
It had its back to the window, she had her back to it. It reached around her and grabbed a boob in either hand. She spun around and gave it a shove and it went flying.
Ah! that's my girl. Oh... now I get it, Hooterville indeed.
Your girl huh?
Wait a sec', boobs? Are you sure you're talking about my daughter? My daughter will, eventually, have breasts. They will miraculously appear shortly before the second virgin birth ever recorded.
Uh-huh. Well, my daughter has boobs, substantial boobs. Remember the uncle Harry and the sundress incident?
Was that her? Are you sure? She and I need to talk... Wait a minute, why is she in trouble?
It's just one day of detention. I'm assured by the vice principal it's a CYA move. You never know, there might've been a hungry lawyer living in the bushes it landed in. Look on the bright side. If there aren't any cute boys there she might actually do some homework, out of sheer boredom.
I'm sorry, I didn't catch that last part. Is she home yet? We need to talk about...
Bit late for that Sparky. I...
I'm not talking about that talk, I'm talking about a different, um, talk.
All Men Are Pigs
[Vaguely related but still important observation: While often unpleasant and difficult, mid-flight course correction trumps running out of aviation fuel — every time.]
[Wait-wait-wait... You're an expert? What qualifies you to claim...]
64.5 years as a male H. sapien, Dana. I've known straight men, gay men, confused men and men who like to wear dresses (straight, gay, and transitioning). All are horndogs, all are easily aroused just by looking, all are constantly looking.
Many, I would posit nearly all, harbor deep, dark, sexual fantasies that should never, and fortunately mostly won't, see the light of day.
To not be aware of this, to not acknowledge this, may lead to an experience not unlike running out of aviation fuel at 10,000 feet.
For the record, I've no idea if this still holds once a given he fully transitions to a given she. I don't personally know (well, as far as I know...) anyone who has. Regardless, I wish them well and hope they don't prejudge me because (or at least so I'm told) I'm a member of the White Heteropatriarchy by accident of birth.
Personally, I think of myself as a typical unrepentant, unreconstructed heterosexual male, somewhat lacking in privilege and luck. Still, I remain cautiously optimistic. I once had a good year (1985).
I've asked female H. sapiens (FHS) of my acquaintance if they're aware of just how easily stimulated male H. sapiens (MHS) are merely by looking. As you might expect, given that FHS, as a group, tend to be just a little bit brighter and/or a little bit more evolved than MHS, not a one of 'em was caught by surprise.
Generally, however, they're more amused/bemused than alarmed, which you also might expect. Of course, there's no shortage of sexual bullies in the world, but most MHS are, to one degree or another, testosterone-addled fools at the mercy of their, um, DNA. Trust me on this.
There's more I would tell you about voyeurs and bullies but it can wait till next week. Poppa loves you.
Have an OK day.
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©2017 Mark Mehlmauer (The Flyoverland Crank)
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