Men, Women, and Seduction

Men, Women, and Seduction

Tuesday, March 4, 2008

Men and women have lost the art of seduction. Acou;le of generations ago, a man would know how to seduce a woman. Actually, he would know how to think he’s seducing a woman while she’s the one seducing him and allowing him to think he’s seducing her. She would be coy, coquettish, say something slightly insulting, and at the same time, slightly alluring. Then he would respond by saying something slightly dangerous, and at the same time, slightly stupid. She’d laugh at him while making him think she’s laughing with him, and so goes the ritual. It was a contest, a game. The game of love.
But Radical Feminism, Political Correctness, women demanding to be men, men allowing them to be men, men feminizing themselves. When we tamper with the strings of the instrument of the gods, we leave the Universe out of tune.
Let’s say you’re going to ask a woman out. In the past, she would resist your advances no matter how much she wanted you, partly out of cruel entertainment for her, and partly out of trying to see just how serious you are about wanting her. She’d make you work for it, jump through a couple of hoops, sweat a little. That’s all gone. Nowadays, you ask, she accepts, you sleep together, then for both of you, it’s off to the next adventure.
Where’s the fun in that?
Well…okay, there is a certain fun, sure, but it’s not a true, lasting, satisfying fun…is it? Can we genuinely say that the stereotypical ‘One romp after another’ is truly fulfilling? I guess those group of guys sitting at the edge of a strip joint’s stage, drinking pitcher after pitcher of beer and high-fiving each other would bray a slurring and enthusiastic WOO-HOO! But even with them, those overly macho, underly intelligent Neanderthals, if you caught them alone with their egos down, would admit that they would like to have a woman for their very own.
It seems that both sexes have come to the point where they just settle for marrying their last, ‘six night stand.’ No work involved, no anticipating that special night when you actually get to experience that long awaited intimacy with the one person of your dreams that you have respected and trusted with your very heart, the one with whom you will grow old, the one with whom you plan to build a towering intimate future with, the one with whom you plan to meld your soul into…forever. Instead, what we have today is someone that you’ve decided, you guess, you might as well marry since you’ve been screwing them for the last few months. After all, eventually you have to live with someone. May as well be him, you suppose.
How romantic.
I have a guitar – now just hang with me here, I’m not being enigmatic, I have a point to this. So, this guitar. It’s a genuine Gibson, Alpine White, ES 175, 1988 model. For those of you that are guitarists, I need say no more. But for those of you who aren’t, it’s one of those big, hollow bodied, jazz instruments that look like something from an angelic orchestra sitting on a heavenly cloud, and it sounds unbelievably beautiful. As you may know from the ‘Joe Keck’ page of this website, my fingers are messed up from arthritis. I can’t play Francesca. That’s the name of my guitar. It wasn’t my idea, an ex-girlfriend gave that name. She was kind of jealous, I think. Anyway, although I can’t play Francesca anymore, I just can’t let her go (it’s not unusual for guitarists become emotionally attached to their instruments). When I was looking for a new guitar to buy I wasn’t looking for a Gibson 175. I was looking for a solid bodied electric guitar. A Gibson SG, to be exact (Angus Young of AC/DC plays an SG). But when heard how the 175 sounded, I instantly fell in love. Had to have one.
Well, I found one. And it was perfect. Great shape, mint condition in fact, and only two years old. But of course, I didn’t have enough money for the damned thing. Long story short, I had to beg, borrow and steal, and hurry doing it because the store owner said he had someone who’d offered to buy it then and there, cash (I’d only put two hundred dollars down to hold it). A few days later I called him to tell him I would have the rest of the money by the end of the week and he said, “We ain’t a lay-away department store, pal. If you don’t have the money by Friday, you got two hundred dollars credit, and that other guy’s got him a guitar.” Well, I went into a panic. I had to have that guitar no matter what I had to do. I’m not proud of it, but I had to sell one of my children into white slavery for the remainder of the money. But I did it-I finally got the cash together and bought that dream of an ax (don’t worry, Amnesty International rescued the child after a couple of hours and she’s fine). The point is, if I didn’t have had to work so hard for it, I would’ve probably had it on e-bay years ago. I had an American made Fender Strat (another guitar) that didn’t cost me all that much, didn’t really have to work too hard for it, and got it at a relatively low price. It’s hanging in a pawnshop in Laughlin, Nevada.
As far as talking about guitars and women in somewhat equivalent terms, I don’t mean to elevate one and diminish the other (I’ll leave it to you to decide which is elevated and which is diminished), but if you’re in the market for a woman, believe me, you will appreciate her much more if she isn’t cheap. If you have to work to get her, you will cherish her. It’s human nature. Just the way we’re made.
So in today’s cultural climate of casual hook-ups, equality of the sexes, and all the Libs trying to tell us that sexual liberation, i.e., the female of the species can be sluts just like the males and it’s okay, it’s no wonder women are disappointed in the grade of men out there. Sorry ladies, you just don’t really have anything to bargain with anymore. That, ahem…’bargaining tool,’ that was so precious a couple of generations ago is now free for the taking. There is no need, nor do you know how to, seduce a man anymore. You only know how to offer your ‘precious virtue’ to us, without anything in return. And you know us guys…we’ll take it. I don’t think we even have the ability to turn down such an offer.
So, all ye of the fairer sex, reality seems to have hit us in the gut with the force of a sucker-punching heavyweight. You don’t seduce, we don’t seduce, we just meet, mate, and move on. Liberation, Larry Flynt, and liberals have, at last, gotten their wish. Thus the world in which we live today.
Sad. So very sad.

Keck