It’s been quite a few years since I last dated…thirty-two years, to be exact. So the vicissitudes of the dating-and-mating dance are no longer among my regular concerns. But every now and then I encounter a story that makes me think.
“Think what?” I hear you ask. Well, it might be something along the lines of “Why hasn’t the human race died out yet?” Or perhaps “Have actual men gone extinct?” (We know actual women are getting to be a rare find. Always, always check for “the lump:”)
But there’s a third category of tale that cheers me immensely… the sort of encounter that suggests that just possibly, it’s still possible to defeat the advance of the various pathologies that have turned dating into a tarantella in a minefield. The following is one such:
(Yes, PJW’s commentary in the above is rather snarky. Still, he’s a bright guy. I’d bet he grasped the full significance of the encounter quite as readily as I.)
Apparently, all the young woman above needed to flush the feminist / gender-war static out of her brain was an encounter with an unabashedly masculine man who plays the dating game by the old rules. She didn’t say so explicitly, but it appears that her date was a gentleman, to boot. It might be just that she was ready for a change of perspective, but still, the thing gives me some hope for the future.
Warning, soyboys of America: Real men “got game,” as the saying goes. Moreover, it’s not a set of tricks or techniques you can learn; it’s something you must become. Verbum sat sapienti, dudes. Put down the controllers and get to work on yourselves. Remember who told you so.