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CONFESSIONS OF A TRANSITION MAN

November 22, 2017 Leave a comment

I didn’t intend to be a transition man.  In fact, I didn’t even realize I am one until one woman called me that.

“You’re a terrific transition man,” she said.

“What do you mean,” I said. I was getting dressed.  “What’s a transition man?”

“He’s the guy who helps a woman make the transition from her unsatisfactory life to a better existence.  It might be to change jobs, or change homes, but most often it’s to change relationships.  It could be from a marriage, boyfriend, roommate, even lesbian lovers. In view of your skill with your tongue, I’m sure a lesbian would find you satisfying.”

“So your transition has been your split from the truck-loving Ralphy Boy to what? To me?” I said.

“No, definitely not to you,” she said.  “Your destiny is to be the wonderful, gentle, safe bridge from frustrated sedentariness to life and light, and I will be grateful throughout my life for what you’ve done for me.  Thank you forever. Stay safe, be happy, and carry on your good deeds.”

And she left me like that, sprawled on my bed, where we had been lovers for weeks.  I watched her go, her behind and legs disappeared through the door, and I was left to contemplate her words.  I felt slightly hurt, but not much because our agreement had always been that we were not to pursue any long-term relationship.  It would have to be that way, because I was 64 and she was 39.

I thought about our initial contact.  I was doing something on my computer when the ICQ called for my attention. Someone named Judith wanted to say hello, so I typed back ‘hello’.

We conversed from time to time over the next few weeks. We became lovers. Judy went on to a semi-permanent relationship, had kids and built a career.

I went on to be a Transition Man for several other unsatisfied ladies aged from forty to sixty-five.

On one occasion one of the ladies showed up at my office2 years later. She must have done some research to learn where I was working. She’d been a plain, shy spinster about 40 years old, and I had liberated her. She swept into my office looking unbelievably happy and pretty. She wore a long leather coat with fur trim. She took my hands in hers and looked into my eyes.

“Thank you,” she said, and turned on her heel and swept out of the office. I love to imagine what a happy life she moved into. She’s a good person, and deserves the best. She had been a low level office worker in her father’s department until she took me home with her that day.

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Symbiotic Sex

November 21, 2017 Leave a comment

We have seen videos of sharks swimming along with a gaggle of smaller fish eagerly eating bits left in the shark’s teeth. The shark keeps its mouth is open so the tooth-pickers can do the job it needs done. It’s symbiotic: the shark gets its teeth cleaned, the smaller fish get fed and not eaten. They are parasites that are welcomed by the ones that need their help.

I believe symbiotic sex happens regularly in human society. Imagine Eileen, an attractive office manager enters a quiet pub at the end of a punishing Friday at work. The whole week was a misery, not only because of the office problems, but Charles had dumped her six weeks ago. She was badly hurt by the breakup. The apartment now felt dark and empty. Charles’ closet was empty, his chess set was gone, and Eileen is painfully lonely and longing to be held closely and gently.

Eileen expects to meet some of her co-workers for an end-of-week winding down. She looked around over the tables and along the bar stools. Her friends were not yet there. As she searched, her eyes met the eyes of a man who sat at the bar. He started to smile but she turned away too quickly to see it. It was one of those situations when there is a strong emotion in an instant, with no logical reason why.

Eileen strode through the busy tables to an unoccupied table near the back of the room. She sat with her back to the wall so she could see the entrance when her friends arrived. The man with the eyes was no longer at the bar, and Eileen shook off the uncomfortable feeling he’d given her. She checked her phone for messages and learned that her friends decided they were too tired to join her and headed home.

Suddenly, the man with the eyes stood at her side, looking down at her. He appeared to be seven feet tall in a crisp, conservative suit.

“May I join you?” he said. The words rolled out smoothly and deeply.

“I-I’m expecting friends,” she lied. He sat down opposite her.

“I’ll leave when they get here. My name is Roland O’Donnell.” He extended his hand. Eileen hesitated, and then put her hand in his. His was warm, dry, and steady; Eileen feared that hers might be limp and damp. Roland made Eileen feel vulnerable.

“Do you work around here?” said Roland.

“Yes. Just around the corner.”

“I work upstairs in this building. Are you hungry? Would you like to get something to eat?” said Roland.

They went together in Roland’s car to a small, obscure Chinese restaurant on a narrow lane off a wide thoroughfare. They shared their sad stories of lonesomeness and heartbreak.

Their meal complete, their stories shared, Roland drove Eileen home. She invited him in for a nightcap.

In the morning, she made breakfast for Roland and herself. They chatted amiably, and when Roland left, they thanked each other for satisfying their mutual needs.

The Destructive Drive for Wealth

October 19, 2017 Leave a comment

When ‘maximized profits’ is the goal, someone or something is going to suffer. How can a marketer maximize profits, while it’s already doing everything possible? One can make the product more cheaply and charge more for it. When a corporation’s goal is to get rich no matter what, its staff, suppliers, and customers all lose out.

Companies fight to keep employees’ wages and benefits low so the company can flourish. At the same time, the employees are the energy that manufacture, deliver, and perhaps sell the product. Why would an employer not appreciate the employees? Because employees cost a lot of money, and companies don’t like to part with any money at all.

We ‘normal’ people might be unable to understand how a company can deny living wages to its employees while awarding huge bonuses to senior executives. Well, perhaps those greedy people have a weakness in their spirit that enables them to be selfish at all times.

Personally, I would reject the life of the wealthy, because it doesn’t suit me. I was raised in a wealthy family, and felt out of place. The quiet life among simple people suits me better. At the same time, I enjoy a great deal of intellectual stimulation on social media. The Internet is also a great creative stimulus that helps me to live comfortably.

Paradigm Marriage

October 17, 2017 Leave a comment

Paradigm couple

My wife is a medical biologist, so we tend to watch many television shows about true police investigations and DNA clues. Within these episodes are investigations of married couple murders, where one spouse is suspected of the murder of the other spouse. In virtually every case, the investigated spouse says; “We had our ups and downs like every marriage. We sometimes fight like any couple.”

No! Not like any couple. A marriage should not be balanced on a war of give and take. Any couple should have the intelligence to see that they either shouldn’t be together or they must learn how to be happy with each other every day. It can be done, and is done by millions of couples around the world.

A properly suited couple should not have fights about trivial matters. He should realize that he does not have the right to dominate, and she should realize that she doesn’t have to be subservient. The opposite is also true, he should not have to swallow his opinion and be a slave to his wife’s preferences. If you are unable to compromise with each other, and make your days happy, you’re doing marriage incorrectly.

My Second Wife

October 14, 2017 Leave a comment

This one is really stupid. I don’t mean that Masha was stupid, I mean I was stupid. Well, she was maybe stupid, but certainly a sociopath. I was forty, and my first wife had grown cold and usually rejected me. I was out in the world, and was given reason to believe that some women found me attractive. It was confirmed at the annual Christmas party. One attractive female executive, one broadcast producer, and one very young receptionist all loosened up with drink and came to my office one at a time, and told me they wanted me.

It was shocking. I didn’t know that I was seen that way at the office. The broadcast producer said, “Do I have to beg? I will if I have to.” The lady executive just entered my office, closed the door behind her and leaned back on it. She just looked at me long and hard for about 20 seconds before she flung the door open and walked out. The 19 year old receptionist said, “Nobody has been able to give me a penetration orgasm, but I think you’re the one that can.”

I had never experienced such boldness, and I felt embarrassed. I loved the woman who rejected me, and other women wanted me. It was not right, and I was obviously at a life-altering crossroad. I have since come to regret I didn’t enjoy any of those three women, but at the time I was feeling insecure.

In the months following the office party, I noticed a shapely young woman in the stenographer pool. She had a face like a China doll, although she was not Asian. She had an irregular sway when she walked, and it attracted me. We chatted a few times, having met in the coffee room at the office. We were friendly.

I sensed that she was not a ‘normal’ office worker. I believed that she was probably promiscuous, although she was married. One day I saw her carrying a tray of coffee and donuts to a meeting room. I walked up behind her and circled her with my arms and cupped her breasts in my two hands. She giggled and feigned embarrassment, so I was assured my judgment was correct.

We eventually left our spouses and became a couple. We never officially married, but I consider her my second wife because we lived together as a married couple. My 12 year old son lived with us for part of the time.

She had told me that she was formerly a stripper, and now she said she’d like to quit the office work and return to stripping. I thought that was pretty exciting, so I went along with it. Eventually, I began to make tapes of her music for the strip joint that was called, “Le Strip”. I even designed and made a couple of costumes for her. It was fun.

Then she cheated. She was dancing in a bar when a popular television newsman came in to the place. She spent that night with him, and hurried to me in the morning to tell me about it. In that moment I decided I was done with her, and would disentangle myself after 4 years together. She then began to watch the guy on television. She had never watched news before, and she obviously didn’t care how it felt to me.  There were many other moments of that kind until I came to realize she was a sociopath and unable to feel. She even told me once, early in our relationship, that she didn’t know what love is.

I will have to write more about her in the future, because there’s too much to tell here and now. I split from her and enjoyed a really active social and sex life for a couple of years, while getting over the breakup. I acquired a good position in a distant city, and left my home town behind. The pleasures of bachelorhood continued in the new place.

My First Wife

October 9, 2017 Leave a comment

We dated when we were kids. She was fifteen and I was eighteen. She was one of the ‘nicest’ girls in our social circle. She came from a shy, simple, working-class family. I came from a bold upper-middle class family. My car cost about the same as their house.

We dated for a while, and we each dated others from time to time. Eventually we drifted apart and didn’t see each other for a while. I went to Miami for a while with my closest friend, and life went on. I was bribed to go home. My mother’s anxious tone when she tracked me down dulled the edge of pleasure, so I went home.

I got a job in a warehouse in the heart of the city’s garment district. My future wife worked in the office of a dress manufacturer near the warehouse, although I didn’t know it at the time. She apparently learned that I worked nearby, and perhaps saw me parking my car. One day, as I was leaving work there was a drenching rainstorm. As I was about to emerge from the alley where I’d parked my car, my future wife scuttled by in front of me, bent against the slaking rain. On course I had to call to her to get into the car.

I had heard that she was sometimes going out of town, to fraternity parties and so on. I found myself babbling that she should be careful, that she needed somebody to take care of her, to look after her. By the time I dropped her off at her parents’ house, she had my school ring, and we were going steady.

She was a very pretty girl, nicely dressed and well mannered. My mother urged me to marry her. I had done a lot of adventuring and experimenting in my young life, and thought perhaps I should marry her. And I did. She was 19 and I was 22. My father paid for the wedding, of course, because the bride’s family was not wealthy. My mother wanted a big wedding, and it turned out to be enormous. It would be worth about $100,000 in today’s dollars.

I truly loved her, and we did alright for many years. We had a daughter after 2 years, and another 2 years later. The second girl died in infancy from birth defects. 2 years after her, we had a boy.

My wife was simple and inhibited, just like her parents. Meanwhile, within a few years I was out of the warehouse and on the road. Then I moved to an office job in a large company, went through a couple more sad, loser jobs and then began to write.

I got into television commercials and series. My life changed as I moved into a show business, bohemian sort of life. My wife feared and obstructed it, so I left her behind, but stayed close to the kids.

Rituals

July 12, 2017 Leave a comment

Rituals organize our lives. We ritualize our days, and have special rituals for some days. Monday to Friday, we do our morning ablutions, maybe eat something, and hurry off to the job. Throughout the day, on the job, a ritual of productivity proceeds. The journey to the job and the return to home at workday’s end are also rituals. Friday evening, Saturday and Sunday might be rituals unlike the workday rituals, but rituals all the same. Those of us that embrace religion have even more rituals. It matters not which religion one chooses to follow, rituals will be a big part of it.

A young couple lived a neatly organized and busy life. They lived in a small bungalow with just two bedrooms. They planned to have a family after five years, when they could afford a larger home. The second bedroom was Richard Stern’s office, in which he worked on line for a large transportation company. Mona Stern, Richard’s young wife, was a tax consultant. She worked for a large accounting firm. She was a certified public accountant, and had risen to become supervisor over a staff of nine. It was one of several ‘cells’. The company found that ‘teams’ in separate cells were more productive.

Mona Stern enjoyed her rituals. She’d rise at six in the morning, go straight to the bathroom to relieve herself and to shower. She would wear the outfit she planned the previous evening. In the small kitchen, she would enjoy her orange juice, rye toast and coffee while watching the news and weather report on her tablet. After the weather predictions, the sports news came on. Mona turned off her tablet, put it into her handbag, and left for the walk to the office. It was five blocks to her place of business.

By eight o’clock, Mona Stern was striding happily along Acorn Road, observing the many small, neat bungalows similar to her own. Ancient Oak trees shaded the street until the next corner. The busy rush hour was under way on Charles Avenue as it was every morning. As on every weekday morning, Mona turned right and strode along the narrow sidewalk. Old industrial buildings encroached on the sidewalk. They were remnants of the industrial revolution and had stood empty for decades. Mona ignored the cars lined up at red lights. She enjoyed her walk every morning, and was comfortable in the familiar routine that she had been repeating every morning for five years.

In the next block, an old building that had been a garment factory was to be transformed into luxury apartments, with the high ceilings and huge windows as selling points. The fact that there was a change taking place along her route after five years was just a bit unsettling. It altered the routine walk to work.

There were pickup trucks along the curb. Rubber cones were guiding the heavy traffic into one lane, around the trucks. High up on the roof parapet, people were installing a heavy beam to project out from the building. It was needed to create an elevator of sorts, to carry up workers, equipment, and materials. Mona was annoyed at the traffic clamour, and hastened her pace, to escape the irregularities.

At that moment, the rooftop workers faltered in their job. The beam dropped, slowly rotating top to bottom. It did not hit the sidewalk lengthwise. End first, the beam struck the old concrete walkway, pierced it like a piecrust and buried itself two feet into the ground. It hit the spot where Mona Stern had been, a second before she hurried to get away from the cacophony of car horns and engine roars.

The blasting sounds of the beam demolishing the concrete right behind her startled Mona. She jumped and turned around to see dust and particles swirling around an eight-foot tall steel beam. A nearby worker asked if she was okay, but Mona didn’t answer, she just strode on her way to her office. She used a quicker pace than her usual, ritual stride.

Throughout the rest of her day, Mona Stern struggled to do her work on the Dominica and Bolivar account. She struggled to stay focused while she assigned her team to various parts of her employer’s largest and most profitable account. The dropped beam, and the vast repercussions that might have come had it hit her, invaded her mind. She sat at her desk and analysed the routine that she knew so well. She began to question the wisdom of so regular a routine. Perhaps a change of situation, rather than a predictable routine, would be safer and perhaps beneficial. Mona resolved not to follow her usual, routine stroll home.

The office closed at four-forty-five. Mona Stern took the time to leave her files in impeccable order, her desk clear and the tools of her profession alongside her computer keyboard. She left the building moments after her staff and coworkers departed. In her normal routine, she would turn left and stride the route home. On this occasion, Mona turned right out of the building and strode in the direction away from home, husband, and fallen beam.

With no preparation and little thought, the young woman strode as far as the train station and boarded a train because it was leaving soon. Mona Stern didn’t care where the train was going; she just needed it to be free of routine.

At the point where the train journey terminated, Mona left the train. She attained an apartment, a professional position, and a new life. She fell in love with a co-worker that fell in love with her. They moved in together. Meanwhile, the young husband back home was frantic with worry. It seemed the authorities could not find Mona because she changed her name to Rose Kroll.

Rose Kroll, formerly Mona Stern, lived with her new husband in a neat bungalow within walking distance of her office. Her new husband began to work from home designing furniture. Every morning Rose showered, enjoyed orange juice, rye toast and coffee while watching the news on her tablet. When the weather forecast ended and the sports news came on, Rose Kroll left the home to walk to her office.