Surprisingly Aggressive High School Hotties

» Speaking of teenagers .. a strange thing has been occurring the last several months (.. since last summer). » Young girls have been flirting with me .. coming on to me.

Ariana Grande stares you down as she shows you some of her pretty hair. Maybe you like?I do not know how old these girls actually are, but ..

.. uh, I would definitely put them in the "dangerous" category.

Not sure why this is happening. A recent development.

Never had this problem before. But they are surprisingly bold.

Most girls, when you perchance happen to meet their gaze, will quickly look away.

But not these young ones. No, sir. They will hold your gaze and stare you down.

» New & Improved Techniques for the 21st Century Teen

For example, this girl squeezed behind/past me while I was standing in a busy, crowded coffee shop one Saturday morning, chatting with a buddy who sat at a table there. The noise level, already at a low roar, climbing steadily. (Set the scene.)

Slowly across me she slid her body like .. well, like she pressed herself against me on purpose.

I mean, sure, it was crowded, but not *that* crowded. Caught me off guard.

Anyway, when I turned to see who it was, she looked up and said, "Excuse me," before walking away .. wearing a black work-out outfit that displayed belly skin.

Fit, muscular, athletic and obviously limberHer sweaty glow suggested she'd come straight from a work-out at Bikram hot yoga (.. their studio located right down the street) or something similarly vigorous.

She paused at the exit doorway to take a sip, where she returned a glance just over her cup .. before stepping out.

A glance that said "How did you like the way THAT baby-making machine felt?"

"What was THAT all about?" my buddy asked.

"I dunno," I said, as we watched her climb into her car.

» That Girl is Trouble

"That girl is TROUBLE!" he said, as she drove off out of the parking lot.

"Tell me 'bout it," I muttered, still able to feel the sensuous way she did that slide-across thing.

"What were we talking about?" I asked. We laughed.

He thought she was 15. (Perhaps he was joking.)

"She cant drive if she's only 15," I said. I woulda guessed 18 or 19 .. 20 tops. (But I coulda easily been wrong.) Kinda like the girl pictured here. Along those lines. (But sweaty.) What would be your guess? Hard to tell, no?

There is a high school right down the street, only a few blocks away. But the nearest college is a few miles. That's why I think they are high school girls.

But this was a Saturday .. so who knows?

I am not unfamiliar with the wiles of aggressive women. No, sir. They are certainly clever & full of surprises. (Much more clever than any guy I know.)

But this is the first time I've seen this particular technique (.. which, I must admit, made quite an impression). Surprisingly pleasant experience .. literally.

The AGE is really what surprises me, tho.

This is an example of this strange development. Others not so similar. Probably inappropriate for publication. All eye brow raising. All equally perplexing. All way too young for me. (Unfortunately.)

Ariana Grande stares you down while wearing a pair of almost-thigh-highs» High School Girls Today

I do not need to tell you about high school girls these days.

They're not like the girls back when I went to high school. (Not hardly.)

I mean, I do not know for a fact that these girls are in high school, but that would be my guess. 17? 18? 19?

But you never know. Hard to tell these days. Tho clearly, I'm old enough to be their father. Easily.

And they dress to let you know they mean business. You can tell from their confidence that they know they have the goods. Could be wrong, but I doubt this phenomenon is limited to Southern California.

Maybe 'flirting' is not the right word here. Friends have used it .. as in » "That girl was totally FLIRTING with you, dude."

To me, flirting is something innocent & playful. These girls however, do not strike me as tho they're playing. And they're definitely not innocent. Tho I do not have a better word in my vocabulary.

They may not yet possess the skills to pull it off, but they're clear about letting you know that they're interested .. that the door is open ..

.. should you desire to inquire further .. or perhaps be interested in participating in something like a private tour. With a clarity I would normally associate with a more seasoned woman.

Which is why things like this dont surprise me .. as much as they seem to surprise others.

<ignore this intentional body-text marker>

••• today's entry continues here below •••

» A Slippery Slope

Lolita stares you down as she sucks a lollipopObviously a very slippery slope they represent, so I keep my distance.

But dont think I am not enticed. (I am very familiar with slippery slopes.)

And definitely » CURIOUS .. as to why this seems to have started.

All at once. Like you snapped your fingers .. one mid-summer day.

Very weird, if you ask me. (And you know how geeks are always trying to figure shit out.)

If I trusted myself to inquire further .. into their perceptions & motivations, I would. But I dont.

And if you saw some of them you'd know why. Blood-boilers. Finely-tuned, industrial-grade blood-boilers. Have mercy.

Some are clearly more 'mature' than others. And I'm only human. Just a man .. with (plenty of) male hormones and (God-given) natural impulses. A walking foible. Yes, I can recognize a poor risk/reward structure when I see one.

» But Why Not the Older Ones?

And no, the older ones do not flirt with me like that. (They ignore me.) So I dont get it. I mean, if I am somehow appearing more attractive or desirable (.. particularly when I'm feeling beat up) .. then I should appear attractive / desirable to ALL women, right? Not just the young ones. Isnt that the way it works? Or no?

Fabric design gray and red plaidDo the young ones see something the older ones dont? Or is it something else? Are they just bolder? Fearless?

My ego, it seems, would prefer that ALL women found me equally desirable.

I am talking primarily about Newport Beach girls, or girls who I cross paths with while there.

A friend commented, "Everybody knows that Newport Beach teenagers are used to getting everything they want."

But this phenomena is not limited to Newport Beach. (Which makes it all the more curious.)

These come-on's often occur (tho not always) when I'm feeling beat up .. so I sometimes feel like these girls have a 6th sense and are waiting until I am at my lowest .. before they attack .. and tempt me with their charms.

Or perhaps they simply sense my need. And their spidy-senses tell them they should take charge of administering some "therapy" in my general direction.

One of these times .. when one of these young things holds my gaze and refuses to look away .. I'm going to go over there and walk up to her (.. fixed eye-contact the whole way). And I'm gonna say » "Show me your ID."

» Pavlov's Dog & Classical Conditioning

Ever since meeting Julie Allen last year, I've been walking up, and introducing myself to strangers more often, and striking up a friendly conversation with them .. something I never really did very much of before that experience.

I've usually, however, avoided the real pretty girls .. until recently, that is. Not exactly sure why the change. Sometimes I find myself drawn to challenge myself. Growth.

Ivan Pavlov (1849 - 1936)Definitely has to feel right, tho. Natural. Organic. (Starting to sound like an applesauce commercial.)

If I'm not feeling it, I dont force it. Sometimes, even if I AM feeling it, I dont step out ..

.. particularly if I suspect they might take my personal intro as something more.

I've had problems before with people who become clingy (.. both male & female). So I tend to be cautious .. even tho I'm a naturally friendly guy.

I'm pretty good at making them laugh, when the spirit moves me. Yet, if they show too much interest, that tends to scare me off ..

.. cuz, like Pavlov's dog, I've been classically conditioned to associate women with pain & suffering (.. eventually, ultimately).

There's obviously a conflict .. between my Experiencing self (.. "Go for it, dude! Throw her down!" ) and my Remembering self (.. "You out of your mind? These things always end BADly!" ).

So there's a rather narrow bandwidth in which I'm able to operate there (.. due to my own limitations). But it's a pretty bitchin bandwidth .. especially when I'm in a playful mood.

But these inspired introductions are another story, for another time.

I will say however, that .. I ran into Julie's mom (coincidentally) on the EXACT 1-year anniversary of the accident (Jan 15) .. tho I did not recognize the significance of the date at the time. Distracted. She looked different. But I cant say if that's good or bad.

» Me & Freud (Siggy baby)

I admit that I dont 'get' women. (Dont think I havent tried.) Even tho I can certainly get along with them, I've always had trouble understanding them .. their motives, logic, rationale, intentions. (Like I need an interpreter.) Maybe cuz I never had any sisters.

Sigmund Freud (1856-1939)So I can only really get along with girls who know guys. Cuz if they dont .. and I cant understand girls, we're NoWheresVille in a hurry.

People have told me, for example, that girls were flirting with me .. and I never realized it (.. until after they mentioned it).

I just thought these girls were acting weird, for some reason. Nice, yes. But weird. And since they usually dont make sense to me anyway .. well, you see my situation.

[ Most girls tend to be SUBTLE, most guys DIRECT, especially East Coast guys, for whom it's a cultural thing ..

.. where directness shows RESPECT .. by not wasting-the-time of the person to whom you're talking .. by not making them decode my shrouded, cryptic babble.

That's why things seems to move at a brisker pace on East coast, where directness is valued, and why most people think of Californians as "laid back". Different cultures. (Tho the Left coast has nicer weather. Much nicer.)

The body-rub technique was DIRECT ACTION .. which is why it immediately got my attention .. in an East Coast sort of way. "Roger, Wilco, good buddy. Reading you loud-n-clear."

Heck, maybe she was an East coast girl, visiting or vacationing here.

Jersey girls are the most aggressive. They will kick your ass, then have their wicked way with you, and not even tell you their name.

"Here's twenty bucks. Buy yourself a new shirt. Sorry about ripping that off you last night."

Ariana Grande stares you down while playing with her hairThe sweaty girl did not strike me as slutty, no.

She obviously wanted attention.

Twenty-first century communication skills.

Maybe it wasnt the most elegant approach, but definitely effective. I can confirm.

I wouldnt be writing about this if she hadnt gotten my attention and made an impression.

On the other hand .. when I'm just being friendly & playful, when I'm just feeling good, in a joking mood, I can tell they sometimes think I'm interested. (When I'm not.)

Sometimes. Not always. Maybe this is my fault. Not sure how to deal with this. ]

I figure, hey, if Freud himself (1856-1939) spent 30 YEARS (of his life) trying to FIGURE OUT women .. and, uh, failed miserably .. then, who am I, dawg? .. to plumb one of Life's greatest mysteries.

» "Oh, that's easy. We want your SOUL."

I asked a few "seasoned" women, whose opinions I respect .. for their thoughts on the great Freudian question. Best answer I got was » "Oh, that's easy. We want your SOUL."

I think .. uh, what kinda freaked me out here a little .. is that this girl (woman) did not hesitate. Not even a little. In fact, she didnt even seem to need to think about it very hard. As if the answer was » obvious.

Something like, "We want your soul. Pass the ketchup. These fries are great, aint they?"

[ I've heard that the SOUL is comprised of » your mind, your will, and your emotions. That you ARE a spirit, you HAVE a soul, and you LIVE IN a body (.. your earth suit). ]

Bukowski (1920-1992)But I'm with Bukowski on this, who said (.. in his novel titled » Women):

"And yet women -- good women -- frightened me because they eventually wanted your SOUL, and what little was left of mine, I wanted to keep."

He's also the guy who wrote the book titled » Love is a Dog from Hell. [ Have not read it, no. ]

On the subject of women saying » "We want your soul," .. let me just be brutally frank here ..

.. and say that I have noticed, generally speaking, that I have not been good for women. Sure there have been exceptions ..

.. and I could go into great detail. But I won't. I will spare you. But .. I *will* say this ..

This is exactly (precisely) where my 'trouble' with women stems from. Let me break it down for you.

Some women are more confident than others. More secure in their sense of self. In their value as a person.

Yes, this goes for men, too. But I do not have a problem forming meaningful and intimate relationships with men. Tho not sexual, no. That vibe does not resonate with me.

Remind me tho, to tell you the story about the guy in Hawaii. That's a good story. Real good.

Turning Straight Guys Gay | aka » Did I come onto you last night?

This guy that I knew from before. I probably shouldnt say his name. But basically this guy who supposedly was not gay .. came onto me. I actually knew him pretty well .. from our days back in school. I told this girl who I was dating (living with) what had happened and she said » "Dude, you are so hot that you are turning straight guys gay." (Only she didnt say 'dude'.)

The Dog and I were working out at the sub-base gym (Pearl Harbor) every day for at least an hour (M-Th) and then running the beach at Ala Moana.

So yes, I was in the shape of my life. And tan. Very dark. (Nobody ever used sunscreen, then.) In the ocean every day, which makes the skin look healthy.

I think that telling this story would be instructive. I liked him. He was smart. An Electrician. A reactor plant electrician. Funny. Easy to have a good time with. I think he was from ______ .. uh, maybe I shouldnt say the name of the state he was from. Doesnt really matter. But we ran with a common group of friends.) He did not strike me as gay, no. Sure, I have been wrong before .. but I honestly don't feel that he was gay. I mean, I was living with this girl at the time. So he obviously *knows* that I am not gay, right? I will tell you that » he was drunk. At the time that he came onto me. Fairly soused. Not at all violent or anything like that. Not slurring his words. Okay, I looked up the definition of the word » soused, and it means VERY drunk. So soused is not the right word. But he was feeling good. Definitely feeling no pain. But like what he was doing came very naturally. People say that alcohol brings out your true inner feelings. That it makes you lose your inhibitions. (And slur your words.) It kinda freaked me out, a little. Yeah. "Did I come onto you last night?" (He had slept over .. seeing that his Fast Attack nuclear submarine was tied up at Pearl Harbor for a few days. He had looked me up and called. I said "Dude, come on over! We're downtown Waikiki on Ala Wai blvd. Second floor. Just watch out for the two strippers who live upstairs." ) The Dog dated one of the strippers until it was time for us to return to sea (fly to Guam, pick up boat, relieve other crew, operate reactor (safely turn matter into energy), maybe stop in Korea if the nuclear gods deem you worthy) .. for a month or two. But the girl .. who I was living with .. that turned her on .. when I told her what happened. Tho I am not sure why. It brought out the kink in her .. that an otherwise straight guy would come on to me. But that's another story. But I can tell you that it was late and everybody was going to bed. And my bedroom there was actually kinda in the living room. But sectioned off. And I was laying down, on my stomach. Eyes closed. Just resting. When I felt these hands run up the backs of my thighs .. toward my butt (my cute, well-toned runner's butt). At first, I am thinking .. ooh, baby, that feels good. But then I think, uh, maybe those hands feel *bigger* than what I am used to. More masculine. So I turn around. "Holy shit! Dude! What are you doing?!" I thought he was my girlfriend .. until I saw that he was not. If he didnt say anything in the morning .. then I wasnt going to say anything, either. But he did. He was very cool about it. And I was too. I mean, I *knew* gays guys and I was cool with them. Very. But it still kinda freaked me out, a little .. for reasons that now you can hopefully understand. But he said (something like, maybe exactly) » "I've never done anything like that before." And I believed him. Easily. The reason that I believed him was because of the way he said this. He said this while my girlfriend was standing right there. She was standing directly to his left. I feel that, if he were really gay, that he would have come to me in private. (Sure, I could be wrong.) And I remember looking over at her for a sec .. and I could see the look in her eye .. how much this turned her on. A look that said, "Soon as this guy leaves, I am so throwing your ass down." And she did. And I remember thinking, "Girls are so beyond figuring out." 

The night before he struck me with his ability to bare his soul. He told me how badly he hated life on a fast attack submarine.

On a fast attack, you only have ONE CREW. (Uh, that would be » you, dawg. You are 'on' .. pretty much all the time. No breaks. No rest for the weary.)

Whereas boomers had *two* crews (.. blue & gold). Three or four months for you, and three or four for me. Sure, it sucks when you are on .. after a while, anyway. But you get a break .. where you can re-screw your head back on right.

Diamond Head, Waikiki, HawaiiMy buddy said to me, "I've always heard about how good boomer sailors have it. But now I can see that it's even better than I had imagined." (or something like that)

And there was definitely a » bitterness that came out. I suspect this bitterness had begun to form before we rendezvous'ed there in Hawaii ..

.. where we were both "out in the fleet". But I had never noticed any such thing while we were still back at school.

And no, he wasnt nasty toward me .. but I think my situation there brought it to the fore. Our lifestyle brought it out. Rather strongly. Certainly surprisingly so.

I mean, basically, you are working out most every day, pumping iron, getting in the shape of your life, running on the beach in Hawaii, body-surfing at the world's finest beaches, smoking Maui Wowwie and the world's finest cannabis (Kona buds, Puna buds, Kauai Electric, etc) and getting laid every night. If you get bored, you can go upstairs and hang out with the strippers from Vegas, catch a movie downtown Waikiki, read a book, or go to a party populated with very smart, capable guys who hail from around the country. Or just drive your Sportster around the island.

But yes, sometimes we see how good others got it and it can make us feel like shit. My grandfather once told me, when I was but a wee thing, sitting unbuckled there on the bench-seat beside him as he drove us somewhere »

» "There are always gonna be people who are smarter than you. There are always gonna be people who richer than you. There are always gonna be people who can run faster and jump higher than you. But it's okay. Just relax and enjoy your life."

I said, "Okay. Can we stop and get some ice cream?"

I usually enjoy connecting with people who can access things beyond mere social formality. Especially if they can make you laugh along the way.

Nuclear-powered ballistic missile submarineBut I remember seeing clearly that he was not handling well life aboard a fast attack submarine.

I mean, you basically have one night to catch up on a year. And he had three years to go. I never heard from him again.

I remember enjoying that I was able to introduce him to the Dog. The Dog is an impressive person .. even before he went to Columbia. The Dog makes anybody look good.

My mother, when she came to visit there in Hawaii said » "I like your friends. I like them a lot."

I had two roommates there, the Dog and an older guy, who kept us out of trouble and made sure that we got to work on time. Older was like 26 or 28. CS were his initials.

» Origins of the Dogbrother Moniker in Waikiki

This guy (CS) is the one, by the way, who came up with the moniker » dogbrother. He said (something like) » "You two look out for each other like Conan's dogbrothers."

He had been reading some of the Conan novels (.. a form of pulp fiction). And the name stuck.

This guy was not a nuclear dude. But he knew the Navy very well. One time I drank some milk out of one of his wine glasses and he wanted to kill me.

My mom also said » "Honey, the girls stop to watch you at the beach. You don't see them, but I do, cuz I walk behind you sometimes. And they don't know I'm with you. But they stop to watch you when you don't see them. And I won't even tell you the stuff they say."

No Going BackLots of sexuality in today's entry. Can you feel it?

Anyway, that was my [_name_withheld_] story of the straight guy who came onto me in Hawaii, where I was living with a girl ..

.. while I was laying on the very same bed that I let mom use when she came to visit.

We were working out regularly, the Dog and I, and one day, he said, while putting on an aloha shirt » "Dog, I like the way these shirts are getting tight across my chest. Like I can feel myself growing."

Where was I? Oh, yes .. so if a girl is strong in her own sense of self and esteem and does not need a man to provide that for her ..

.. then these women I seem to get along with okay. More than okay, even. Blissfully okay, at times.

But this is not how most women are. You would agree, I am sure. And yes, I can understand this. Certainly.

But we all have our limitations that we are trying to transcend. To figure out. To craft an algorithm. To crack a nut, so to speak. (Even Paul said he wasnt there yet.)

I could go in any number of directions here. I hear the different paths calling. "Come here pretty boy. I have candy for you." But I am going to try to stay focused.

My point » most women are going to want your soul. Because most women are simply not that secure in themselves. In their own sense of their own identity.

Most women need a man to define them. Or help define them. Tho this was more prevalent in generations past .. than it is now. Clearly.

That is all I will say for now, but I will probably return to flesh out .. as my own thoughts become more clear on this subject. I don't normally think about stuff like this.

But when I pass two girls walking together on the sidewalk or some other public space .. they seem to be talking about guys much of the time. Have you noticed this?

It plays to my point about most women needing men (a man) to define them. I am not casting judgment here, no. I am just sharing my observations and seeing if they resonate with you.

The Ballad of Bob Dylan | A Portrait, by Daniel Mark EpsteinOr how about Dylan's:

"I once loved a woman, a child I'm told.
I gave her my heart, but she wanted my soul."

Notice the unspoken subtext of Dylan's lyric » It's never enough. No matter how much you give or love or care .. it's never enough. I can relate.

Guys I get. No problem there. (I are a guy.) Even asshole-guys I can get along with remarkably well. (Cuz most of them are simply misunderstood.)

Heck, I even get gay guys.

Update » After searching the globe far-n-wide for the guy's secret to understanding women ..

.. I have finally discovered a wise sage who claims to know all. See here » The Crazy-vs-Hot Matrix. (« I have bro to thank for that.)

<end update hot-crazy matrix is the answer to dealing with women>

» Tomboys & Their Nuclear-Grade Lace-Top Thigh-Highs

So maybe you can see why .. I usually get along BEST with girls who had brothers .. the more, and the more raunchy ("all-boy" brothers) the better ..

.. cuz these girls understand guys best .. or maybe they're just more comfortable with our testosterone-fueled idiosyncracies.

In other words, we're talking about » tomboys .. especially those with enough self-confidence to be playfully competitive, at times ..

.. and with enough versatility to (.. on a moment's notice) » slip on a pair of nuclear-grade lace-top thigh-highs ..

.. before stepping into a pair of perfectly matched, dyno-tuned, precision balanced, hi performance, racing high-heels .. engineered by NASA & designed by Ferrari ..

Rad Bedroom.. and dropping on something silky & snug.

As she steps out into the balmy night air.

With the easy gait of a thoroughbred ..

.. that's in no big hurry. (Having been ridden rather hard lately.)

Cantcha just smell the night-blooming jasmine? Feel the salty ocean breeze .. as it wafts across your skin? .. ever so sensuously.

The savage-pull of the late-summer moon? Hear the faint-echo of the sultry singing .. that emanates from the cafe down in the valley? The steamy valley below. (Doesnt the singing sounds Portuguese to you?)

» The JFL Look

"I'm thirsty," I say. "Let's go get some sangria. Nice shoes, by the way. No, don't worry about your hair. I like it like that. Everybody will know where you've been and how well you fared. They will all look at you and say » 'That man obviously did that to her. I wish somebody would throw me down like that.' Do you need help walking? You look a little unsteady there. A little wobbly. Don't blame me. It's all your fault. You know how you turn me on."

Yeah, I can flirt, too. Or whatever you wanna call it.


That's for the girl in the coffee shop. That sweaty girl.

"Nice belly. How old are you, anyway? And what I am supposed to do with these panties?"

Lolita (1955) by Vladimir NabokovOr perhaps she's looking to initiate her own Rad entry. Stay tuned.

"There I was, dawg .. minding my own business .. when up walks .. "

Who knows what great things a man can accomplish when inspired by a woman who passionately believes in him?

While it may indeed be the case .. that I still dont understand women.

Nevertheless, I am no longer intimidated by them.

No, sir. After a while, you learn a few tricks of your own. Take that, girly.

» The Allure of Sweaty, Athletic Girls

I have always had a thing for sweaty, athletic girls. Let me tell you.

Remind me to tell you about the yoga instructor in South Laguna who, during a Saturday morning class ..

.. came over and slowly laid her body over mine .. to help sink me deeper into the pose.

Dude, I was so not ready for that. That was unexpectedly sexy. Whoa.

Sure, I know this is not the approved yoga response to such professional things. But that really got me going.

Perhaps I am just more of a tactile person .. or more orientated in that direction.

Call me a yoga neophyte, but a sweaty girl laying her high-performance, finely-tuned, perspiring body over mine is a very sexy thing. Even when you ARE expecting it.

Dont get me wrong, she was talking to the class the whole time. In a calming tone. Tho I honestly dont recall what she was saying.

But there was a wisp of incense still lingering in the air and the quiet background music was set at the perfect volume.

So yeah, I was feeling it. Definitely.

What do you say to a yoga instructor? "Maybe you and I could get a cup of herb tea some time? I have some asanas that I'm sure you'll enjoy"

I particularly like when they know the original Sanskrit word for the asana, along with the English. But hey, that's just me.

To be honest, I was feeling it .. the work out, afterwards .. in places that I hadnt felt in a long time. It made me feel half-way between tired and relaxed. Probably a little closer to tired.

I Cant Sleep Next to You » You Have Too Much Sexual Energy

Anyway, my ego is feeling good right now and wants you to know that .. a girl once said to me (somewhat frustrated, even, and late at night) ..

.. right after I climbed in bed .. after working on some stuff for a while » "I can't sleep next to you .. you have too much sexual energy."

Dude, what can you say to that? "Uh, I'll dial it down for ya .. soon as I find the dial."

Nevertheless, I took that as a compliment.

"I want one » *just* like that."

Kean Coffee Shop in Newport BeachOne of the reasons, perhaps, that I feel the sweaty girl in the coffee shop was a high schooler ..

.. is because of what another girl there once said.

It was there in that same coffee shop one weekday morning when I had the Bug.

On this particular day, the high schoolers had a late start (every Wednesday).

It's hard to miss these days cuz the parking lot is packed with BMW's and the coffee shop is mobbed with teenagers.

They totally take over the place and the lines are always long on these days.

Sometimes I can ask a friend who is already in line to get me a coffee, but there was no one I knew well enough who was already waiting in line.

So I was waiting there in line, holding the Bug. He was still very small then and his head was resting against my chest like he usually did while we were waiting in line early in the morning.

And I noticed a group of four girls standing at the counter where your specialty drinks are served (after you order). It takes a few minutes for the baristas to make your latte or your cappuccino.

Anyway, I noticed that the girls were looking at the Bug (not me, no).

» Right Now?

My blue-eyed sonThey were all very good looking. The tallest one turned to her friend, so that her mouth was at the same level as the other girl's ear ..

.. and I heard her say » "I want one *just* like that."

I didnt say anything, of course, but the joker in me asked her » "Right now?"

[ I am not usually so clever before coffee, no. ]

And the shorter girl who she turned to and told .. happened to look a lot like the sweaty girl that rubbed up against me.

Surely you are familiar with the widely-accepted truism that » Newport Beach girls get what they want. (Yes, always.)

This happened on Wednesday. A few days later on Saturday morning a sweaty girl rubs her body across me .. like she meant it. (You tell me .. same girl?)

» Snickerdoodle Dad

"Those high school girls are checking you out, punkin'," I said.

He lifted his still-sleepy head and looked over there weakly for a few secs ..

.. then gently set it back down on my shoulder and said, "Can we get a snickerdoodle, dad?"

It struck me how he was more interested in a cookie.

And the way that he says the word » snickerdoodle .. is just so adorably cute that I can hardly stand it.

And I say, "Punkin', please dont be so cute. I cant stand it when you say such cute things."

He obviously has no clue why I think his question is so cute. Nor does he care.

Because there is a pause before he says (with a touch of morning eagerness in his voice) "Does this mean we can get a snickerdoodle?"

But I don't want to be the pushover-dad that I am .. so I said, "We got a snickerdoodle last time. Can it be my turn to choose this time?"

He took surprisingly long to decide, but finally said (rather disappointedly) » "Okay .. you can choose."

Rad note (update) » this section about the Snickerdoodle dad has been lifted and moved to a separate entry .. because the subject was so different from this page you are now reading ..

.. see here » Snickerdoodle Dad.  At the end of that page is a link to return you back here. <end Rad lift-n-move update>

» Singing Kryptonite

I've always had this thing for singers. I just get along with them .. easily, effortlessly. Can most easily be myself around a singer.

Something in the VOICE (.. of a singer, or anybody, for that matter. Singers merely tend to have artistic voices.) is what does it for me. Soothes the savage beast. I bet that David and Saul know exactly what I am talking about.

It's like I somehow "understand" or intuit, or even TRUST them by the particular frequency and characteristic inflections (or dis-inflections, maybe) of their voice.

Arent there people about whom you know things .. by hearing nothing but the sound of their voice? Note what Dostoevsky says about laughter.

The Ballad of Bob DylanI dont know a single other person who feels this way .. except Dylan ( . which is not the only reason why I like him).

I'm sure others exist; I've just never heard anybody else mention it.

I'm talking about when you can (somehow) hear their heart in their voice .. and know it's a good (kind, gentle, peaceful) heart.

And when their voice happens to MATCH what you see (on the outside) .. well, I find that very attractive.

"Irresistible" would not be much of an exaggeration.

Look at the girl's eyes in this video » HERE at T=1:47 for an idea of what I'm talking about.

If you aint all over the brakes in a hurry, you quickly find yourself at exhilarating speeds. (Yes, every time.)

Taking your foot off the brakes even a little is dangerous .. cuz, as you know, exhilarating is often not very far from "dangerous". Always a blast, tho .. while it lasts. Fun, rewarding.

It's also self-evident that such intensity cannot last for very long. Cannot endure. So you always know. You both know .. that it's only a matter of time for the relationship's final curtain call. Suky as that might seem.

The glow of love | Mariah Carey & PavarottiEven when it ends, there are no harsh words. Just a bittersweet goodbye.

A Singer of My Own » Smart, Kind & Sexy

[ One of these singers that I've already mentioned is Miss Kristen Carter

(.. tho I didnt write about her because of her singing).

She sang better than most of the people I've heard on the radio. Honest to God. Told me she had the gift as a little girl.

She'd sing to me .. beautiful songs .. as we strolled down the extra-wide sidewalks of downtown New Haven ..

looking for a place to dance ..

as the summer sun set on a Saturday night. Thought I was in heaven. My feet never touched the ground. Totally enchanted.

She could sing anything, but her default style seemed to be bluesy/jazzy. Sassy. That girl had legs up to her neck. Turned a few heads, as I recall.

The singer she respected most was either Etta or Ella, but I'm not sure .. cuz I get those two mixed up some times. I mean, as far as having a talented voice. You know, James & Fitzgerald. ]

"Let's enjoy the moment, my friend. For tomorrow is promised to no lovers." .. becomes the unspoken agreement. Which makes for a remarkably honest relationship. (Some what, ironically.)

Rihanna sings about the Monster to hit Big #13 (in 2013), Goodbye Madonna, Hello MJ, Look out Mariah, here I comeBecause the beauty is found in the » honesty.

No mind games. No tricks. Intimacy .. on a level that I did not even know could exist.

And you are thanking God every day .. for that beautiful honesty. (And meaning it.)

Perhaps there is something about singing .. that makes it so easy for a singer to access a place of awe-inspiring intimacy.

Intimacy is so powerful (emotionally) and comes with such danger (of getting hurt beyond all repair) ..

.. that I am surprised at myself that I can go there. But there seems to be something about a singer that makes it easier.

Easier to trust them. And really, intimate relationships are all about » trust. What do you have in a relationship if you do not have trust?

One thing you DONT have » intimacy.

Funny how it is the inevitability of the demise of the relationship that seems to thwart both of you from introducing (into the relationship) anything you might consider 'toxic'.

Does that not seem backwards? .. opposite what you might ordinarily expect? It's like the relationship is only for a season or so. So enjoy it while you can. (Because nothing this good can last very long.)

Funny .. cuz I cannot sing worth a shit myself. (Tho I can certainly talk .. if/when the spirit happens to move me. Writing is my *real* gift.)

And singers seem to reciprocate .. with an attraction of their own. Some speculate this is due to my emotional / intellectual "stability" .. which they can 'sense' .. like a bat senses the walls in a cave ..

.. a connection to this stability allows them to (I speculate) more fully explore the backstreets of their own village of Creativity. (Tho I really cant know for sure. Pure conjecture.)

I suspect that the REASON I get along so easily with singers .. is because a singer sings FROM HER HEART. Singers are therefore people who are MORE IN TOUCH WITH their hearts.

Whatever the case, I can tell (somehow) that the mutual attraction is because we are so different, yet somehow the same. Yes, a paradox.

Big Sur RoadAnd whatever the reason .. it makes it difficult for either party to apply the brakes.

Which means you usually go careening off the road. (I'm thinking of those dangerous, windy, curvy roads up near Big Sur.)

I mean, I have stories .. about singers climbing down off the stage (.. in high-heels, no less!) ..

.. with wireless mic's in hand .. and singing to me .. while I'm dancing with another girl.

Sure, it kinda freaks me out, a little. And I think they know it freaks me out ..

.. cuz the lyrics usually go (tho not always) something like, "She aint got what you need, baby. I got what you need right here."

And they're probably right .. and they KNOW that they're probably right. And they somehow sense that I know they that know.

"How ever you want me .. however you need me."

They're just toying with me, but their penetrating looks each time our eyes happen to make contact .. reveals a more serious, sober knowing.

A little scary, for me. I dont like when I feel like people who I dont dont can see down into my soul. Uncomfortable.

I could never understand why these spontaneous serenades never seem to bother my dates. Rather they seem to enjoy them as much as the singers themselves.

Lotsa singer stories. Something in their distinctive well of creativity .. I find strangely relaxing. Which is something that even I find strange .. cuz most people would consider a relationship with a singer anything but relaxing .. no?

Singers make me feel like I'm home. They're like a home away from home. Even better » being with a singer makes me feel like I'm on vacation (.. another thing that makes me think of Big Sur).

Maybe it's because of the way you're treated (by staff at a resort) while on vacation. Like they really, genuinely appreciate you being there. Which makes me wonder if they dont see something that others cant. Cuz it's nice to feel genuinely appreciated. Very nice, indeed.

The comment » "Something in your voice seems to have an EFFECT on me," .. may sound like a pick-up line. But I can assure you it slips out (on its own) ONLY after I am no longer able to restrain it.

And it suks .. cuz I always have to leave shortly thereafter. I can FEEL the mules pulling the wagon along .. despite my heels being dug in.

Big Sur Bridge Foggy SunsetLike somebody poured OIL all over my shoes. Like the ground is covered with banana peels. Slippery when wet.

I have tried to find / develop the technology .. to resist and withstand the pull of the 20-mule team (.. which, of course, you cant) ..

.. cuz I very much enjoy just talking to these ladies, exploring their magical inner world.

So you just have to .. go with it. And pray for the best. Trust your instincts .. even when you know a crash is inevitable. (Yeah, that's difficult.)

Singers just happen to be girls who likely possess a distinctive voice. But this attraction is not limited to singers .. at least not on my part. Tho singers all have well-developed neck muscles (.. which vampires find irresistible).

Makes we wanna pop open my trusty toolbox .. to retrieve a file .. which I can then use to sharpen my teeth to fine points.

Maybe women intuitively know (somehow) that it is time to ride the roller coaster of life when they hear me share, "Some thing in your voice .." [ .. just thinking out loud, here. ]

Or perhaps it is the authenticity .. with I am able to delivered this brief confession .. that activates their own 20 mule-team train. I dunno. (And maybe I dont wanna know.)

Anybody know? (Curiosity killed the cat .. yes, I know.)

Speaking of singers .. I was definitely feeling this girl who sang at the 2015 VMAs, and I couldnt help but think » "You're right .. it shoulda been us."

Because her song made me think of many things .. things far too personal to write here. But you know.

Things that took me to places .. unexpected places.

This girl seems mature beyond her years .. well beyond. Or maybe she is getting song-writing help.

And she can wail, too. That kind of does it for me.

It takes a few seconds for me to get my shit back .. after a wailer lets loose with a serious-ass wail. Because a serious-ass wail is an awesome thing to behold.

It's like a part of me disconnects from another part of .. and I cant do much of anything until they connect back up.

And she has something in her voice .. something that she brings out every once in a while. A tinge of nastiness.

Nastiness is not the best word .. but you catch my drift. Cuz it's actually better than (mere) nastiness.

Don't get me started. But it definitely got my attention. (As you can tell.)

Pooh & Piglet Looking for ButterfliesMy » Most Precious Possession

Regarding VOICES .. I have a message SAVED on my cell phone .. from the Bug .. when he was 3 or 4 years old ..

.. tho I am not sure, cuz my phone only tells me the time & date for NEW calls

.. anyway, he was just learning to put sentences together .. and he is inviting me over (.. to his mom's .. on this saved message I have of him) "for dinner" one weekend afternoon [ "You wanna come over for dinner?" ] ..

.. which he changes to "for play" after hearing his mom correct him (.. in the background).

I MELT when I listen to it (every month) .. every time I need to renew my old, saved messages. I take great pains to not accidentally delete it.

His little voice sounds downright raspy .. like a munchkin's. He's talking to his mom while he's leaving the message.

"No, uh .. like FIVE HOURS, dada. Come play for five hours." Which is funny, cuz at this age, he has no concept of "hour".

"Hope you get my message, dada," is the last thing he says. With genuine enthusiasm.

It is the most precious thing I possess, and it is (primarily) because of the » sound of his voice .. and the things I am able to hear in that voice ..

Punkin Pie watching Frances play Fancy Pants.. things like innocence & truth & honest love .. and how truly RARE these things are ..

.. and the effect that particular recording of his voice has on me .. the way it makes me feel .. like nothing else ..

.. like I'm temporarily incapacitated .. similar to the weightless feeling you get when you drop down on a big-ass roller coaster .. almost too much to handle .. except for short periods.

[ JAIL is easier to handle. Much easier. Because I have more experience dealing with the ugly side of life. ]

If this sounds crazy to you .. then you know how I feel, sometimes. ■

[ NOTE » This entry is a continuation from another one .. titled » First Grade | First Kiss, which I broke into separate posts, cuz the two topics seem so different.

But surely you can see how it set me to thinking along these lines. As you can tell, I've been wondering about this stuff for a while.

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Analyze this page's web optimization profile » HERE. (Should be somewhere around » 500-KB).

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This page contains a single entry by Rad published on February 22, 2012 2:22 AM.

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