Have you missed me? I've missed you.
I am playing catch-up today so I won't write long, but I want to catch up with you first. While traveling lately, I have had many conversations with men and women in bars, pubs, airport and train station waiting rooms and Starbucks. God, where would I be without Starbucks? There was a point last week where I am sure I would have bled the Bold blend had you pricked me.
So I will shape much of this into posts and questions. But for now, a few thoughts:
Why are women in their twenties so deluded about "relationship?"
22 year old blonde: "I have a great relationship."
Me: What makes it great?
She: "Oh, he is perfect for me, everything I want."
Me: Is the sex good?
Me: Do you have orgasms?
She: "Well, no......"
Within ten minutes she confessed he doesn't consider what they have a "relationship," that the sex doesn't last as long as it takes her to talk about it--and more.
Are women meaner than men?
So much vindictiveness out there....oy.
Will aging Baby Boomers never get over themselves?
Time is running out--and they are still Me, me, me.
Do men care more about pleasing women than women do about pleasing men--or do I just attract the guys who want to know how to make it better for their women?
Women don't ask me how to make it better for their men. What's up with that?
My favorite book of the moment is surprisingly--because I did not expect to like it!-- Life by Keith Richards (Little Brown). It's honest, gritty and compelling. I've read books about rock'n'roll before this one--but Keith makes the scene come alive.
He describes the awe the young Rolling Stones felt for the performers they admired, including Little Richard and Bo Diddley, and their surprise at quickly surpassing the music giants in public appeal. His decriptions of touring in the 60s and 70s are alive with details. His fear of the young teen girls who mobbed them is hilarious. At one point he says the band spent more time planning their concert exit strategies than rehearsing which didn't matter anyway because the screming girls drowned out the music. The girls tossed their underwar on stage, then peed themselves in their excitement.
"One night somewhere up north, it could have been York, I remember walking back out onto the stage after the show, after they'd cleaned up all of the underwear and everything. There was one old janitor, night watchman, and he said, 'Very good show. Not a dry seat in the house."
The Rolling Stones are my favorite rock band; "Exile on Main Street", the best rock album ever and "Satisfaction" the ultimate song.
But I never would have wet myself over the band.
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