I am old. And when one is old one's memory is not reliable. But this cold, alright, cool spell we've had in Miami the last, what, three days? is the deepest AND longest that I can remember. Maybe somebody can prove me a liar but that's how I remember it. It has really affected me. Which brings me to this here post.
It has been soo long since I have lived up north that as I was sitting in my office on Thursday, with my suit jacket on, with my hands cold, I had to force my mind to go way back to remember: sex up north is a seasonal recreation. I mean, it's "SPRING fever," right? I don't know, but I would betcha ten bucks that the number of births nine months from the dead of winter up north, January, February, so October, November of the following year are significantly less than those in April, and May (conception in July, August of the preceding year.) In my own family, both extended and nuclear, I, one of my brothers and both my son and daughter have birthdays in April.
And I remembered: Sex in the winter time up there was fraught with uncertainty, even for a young guy in his twenties. Start with the obvious: the cold does not give men, even boys, boners. It's funny/cute to see a little boy come out of the water naked.
And I remembered that women tended to, like, not shave their legs in the winter, not to remove lint from their belly buttons, not to wash their hair. Why would they? Who's going to see them naked, their husbands? Probably don't want their husbands to see them naked. Might give him thoughts. Best not to shave today.
So picture a young guy, as I once was, going into a bar after school or work, not really looking for sex because his dick is cold and dead anyway, but the young guy espies a pretty young woman who he takes a fancy to, and she to him the smile and the eyes she throws his way. If you hit it off and decide to leave together, and the number of times this has happened to me is between 0 and 1, you have to leave the coziness of the bar, and the gathering heat in your loins and heart and go out into 20 or 10 or below 10 degree weather. FUCK. You go back to one of your places, yours or hers, and now a sense of unease comes over both of you. "This is the part where we have to take all our clothes off, right? We're going to freeze." Is she going to be fucking hirsute? If so, might as well just put my dick in the fridge. It ain't happenin'. I have no interest. And she's thinking, this mother fucker is pale as all get out. Now, incoming racist remark here: I think pale white males are disgusting to look at in the nyoode. I have seen one many times and he is definitely disgusting to look at in the nyoode. If the young woman has my same taste she probably doesn't want to see me in the nyoode. So I'm having that thought too.
We are a visual species. In matters of "love" vision is fucking IMPORTANT and up north all you see, through the hats and the scarves and the muffs and the Bib the Michelin Man "fashion" are each other's faces before it's too late. Our couple might as well be Stevie Wonder and Helen Keller. Hell, or Stevie Wonder and Ray Charles!
In southern climes, visual stimulation is not a problem. It's called "eye candy," right? It is crystal clear if you are an attractive young women with a nice figure even in the most professional setting. Getting a very accurate and complete look at a large portion of a young woman's skin and a topographically precise read on her figure in Miami in any season TAIN'T A PROBLEM. Up north, umm. A little mystery is sexy; a lot of mystery is a turn-off.
It has been soo long since I have lived up north that as I was sitting in my office on Thursday, with my suit jacket on, with my hands cold, I had to force my mind to go way back to remember: sex up north is a seasonal recreation. I mean, it's "SPRING fever," right? I don't know, but I would betcha ten bucks that the number of births nine months from the dead of winter up north, January, February, so October, November of the following year are significantly less than those in April, and May (conception in July, August of the preceding year.) In my own family, both extended and nuclear, I, one of my brothers and both my son and daughter have birthdays in April.
And I remembered: Sex in the winter time up there was fraught with uncertainty, even for a young guy in his twenties. Start with the obvious: the cold does not give men, even boys, boners. It's funny/cute to see a little boy come out of the water naked.
And I remembered that women tended to, like, not shave their legs in the winter, not to remove lint from their belly buttons, not to wash their hair. Why would they? Who's going to see them naked, their husbands? Probably don't want their husbands to see them naked. Might give him thoughts. Best not to shave today.
So picture a young guy, as I once was, going into a bar after school or work, not really looking for sex because his dick is cold and dead anyway, but the young guy espies a pretty young woman who he takes a fancy to, and she to him the smile and the eyes she throws his way. If you hit it off and decide to leave together, and the number of times this has happened to me is between 0 and 1, you have to leave the coziness of the bar, and the gathering heat in your loins and heart and go out into 20 or 10 or below 10 degree weather. FUCK. You go back to one of your places, yours or hers, and now a sense of unease comes over both of you. "This is the part where we have to take all our clothes off, right? We're going to freeze." Is she going to be fucking hirsute? If so, might as well just put my dick in the fridge. It ain't happenin'. I have no interest. And she's thinking, this mother fucker is pale as all get out. Now, incoming racist remark here: I think pale white males are disgusting to look at in the nyoode. I have seen one many times and he is definitely disgusting to look at in the nyoode. If the young woman has my same taste she probably doesn't want to see me in the nyoode. So I'm having that thought too.
We are a visual species. In matters of "love" vision is fucking IMPORTANT and up north all you see, through the hats and the scarves and the muffs and the Bib the Michelin Man "fashion" are each other's faces before it's too late. Our couple might as well be Stevie Wonder and Helen Keller. Hell, or Stevie Wonder and Ray Charles!
In southern climes, visual stimulation is not a problem. It's called "eye candy," right? It is crystal clear if you are an attractive young women with a nice figure even in the most professional setting. Getting a very accurate and complete look at a large portion of a young woman's skin and a topographically precise read on her figure in Miami in any season TAIN'T A PROBLEM. Up north, umm. A little mystery is sexy; a lot of mystery is a turn-off.