domenica, giugno 18, 2006

Lessons from Elvis

Elvis was an important teacher for me; he taught me how to couples-dance to mid-tempo songs and how to roll spliffs - without him you might have had to put up with another nickname. The Dread Pirate What-A-Mess, for example.

When I was a wee girleen and pining over some young man, Elvis saw my mental agony and gave me this advice:

1. The second you know you like a boy in a special way, make a pass at him.
2. When you make the pass at him, propose a specific yet generic activity for the close future that involves a change of location.
3. Then chat, and wait for him to initiate the sexiness so he feels the thrill of the chase.

So that sort of scenario would go: “Hi! My name’s Mistress La Spliffe! What’s yours?” (Response) “Say, would you like to get a coffee with me in Yorkville in 20 minutes?” (Response) (Activity+chat) "Why . . . why . . . alright."

Elvis’s rationale was that by making a pass right away, you had no time for nervousness, excessive horniness, disproportionate disappointment or disproportionate joy. In proposing a specific activity in a new locale, conditions make the passee more likely to say yes, as it gives them the chance to start thinking of you in detailed sexual terms over a low pressure activity in a low pressure place. Finally, Elvis pointed out most people will hit/fall for anything if they think it’s their own idea, so I should concentrate on the chatting to inform myself whether or not I in fact and indeed wanted to be hit/fell for.

Seems simple, no? He taught me that when I was fourteen; if I’d followed it more often I’d probably be a full time lovin’ quarterback by now, as my attempts were usually successful. So here’s my question: if men are supposed to be the seducers, why do they fuck up the formula time after time after time? Why do they get drunk, try to kiss you out of the blue, and then get sulky when you react with reflexive disgust? Why do they say things like “uh, you wanna do something some time?” It’s bugging me today because yesterday was the first time in a long time a man actually got the formula right.

Man: (approaching Mistress La Spliffe as she looks at World Cup schedual at the gym) What team are you following?
Spliffe: England. But they’re going to lose.
Man: Let me introduce myself. I’m Curt.
Spliffe: Hi, Curt. I’m Mistress La Spliffe.
Man: Do you want to play racquetball?
Spliffe: No, sorry, I have a bum knee.
Man: Ah. I’ve seen you around and I think you’re really pretty. Are you single?
Spliffe: No. But thanks for asking.
Man: Just thought I’d try . . .

How fucking hard is that? I had to say no, but I wasn’t creeped out. If I hadn’t had to say no, I probably wouldn’t have, though this man wasn’t my type. And you know what else? He didn’t stare at my tits while he said it. Take notes, male readers. This sort of shit could really cut down cross-gender strife and resentment. Elvis was beating women off with a shitty stick until he settled down with the Vermeer Lady, and you never heard him bad-mouthing women because he understood what they wanted and they understood what he wanted.

Take notes female readers, too. We have a greater propensity to build castles in the sky with men we’ve never even given the opportunity of thinking dirty about us, and then if they don’t materialize we end up hating on the whole gender for disappointing us. And now our physical/verbal communication is so bad, so divorced from reality, people are turning en masse to internet dating, taking out all the variables of excitement and hormones and straight animal attraction – that marvellous first thirty seconds when you look at someone and say to yourself, “YES. Hmm. I think I’ll try coffee this time.”

8 commenti:

Melbine ha detto...

Ooh - was he cute?

I think I know how Elvis and the Vermeer Lady are, are they on the West side?

Ah yes, the ever encroaching loss of physical/verbal communication. I teased Krazy for being like that five years I find even myself falling prey. :( Not internet dating, mind you!

Mistress La Spliffe ha detto...

He was alright. Not my type. Gymmy. And yeah, I think you guessed it.

What do you think pushed you in the uncommunicative direction? Baby? Exhaustion?

Lady ha detto...

i don't hate the male gender for disappointing me, i hate the male gender for not realizing that they can be bastards as long as they're nice. oxymoron? i think not.

Mistress La Spliffe ha detto...

The second clause of the first sentence isn't an oxymoron, but the two clauses of the first sentence taken together do seem a little oxymoronic. I don't see how that's not dissappointing you.

Melbine ha detto...

Well, it's not that I've become less communicative, just not so literally aka conversation in person or on the phone. It's the Computer/Internet age..not that it's so bad?

What do you think?

Mistress La Spliffe ha detto...

I don't think it's so bad . . . calling it bad seems arbitrary - if you don't object to the telephone or written letters as ways to communicate, why object to computery things? I know the ideal is face-to-face but computery things lets one keep in touch so easily with people far away, like you, my dear, and that's lovely. I think it's just icky when it replaces face-to-face altogether, but one could say that about anything really.

Melbine ha detto...

True, true. That makes me feel better! It really is just a quicker way of receiving a letter, isn't it!?

And yes, I like how it lets us keep in touch easily. I like knowing what's going on in your world. :)

Mistress La Spliffe ha detto...

Yours too - it would be strange to think of you with a baby if I couldn't read about it most days.