The following pieces are from my unpublished manuscript "Being Mr. Goodbar."
Power
One evening I contemplated the intricacies of my existence. I thought about a beautiful spring day and my moment of clarity as I sat in meditation.
It was Monday morning. I prepared for another sojourn into the land of make-believe which others call a regular workweek. I saw the same people who were into naughty lifestyles on the weekends put on business suits in a façade of respectability. I prepared to dive into this sea of smoke and mirrors.
It started at the bus stop as women young and old, of all races, sent streamers of energy my way to feel me out. Their faces were impassive masks as they stared into space or into reading material. Their body language communicated their interest. A couple I considered rewarding with my favor. In retrospect I did so on numerous occasions as the outdoor bus stand served a better purpose than a popular nightclub.
I felt the same energy when I got on the bus as the lady driver said hi to me and told me the fare was on her. Having a way with the ladies had its economic benefits.
The bus dropped me off as I thanked the driver and she said, “You’re welcome,” in a seductive tone. It was both flattering and annoying. Sometimes I wished they didn’t look at me like that. I wanted to chill sometimes.
I walked several blocks to my job. My path took me through a small park where many squirrels moved about. I stopped for a minute to observe their play. Relaxation for me was sitting in a park with a breeze blowing and birds singing. My senses were tuned to everything from the tiniest ant to the swaying of the largest tree. It took me out of the rhythm of my life and into the rhythm of the Infinite.
I returned to the park that evening after work and took a seat on a park bench. I reflected on my life. My mind drifted to the numerous encounters I had with women up to that point. I thought of every single one that was in my consciousness from adolescent crushes to heart-tearing rejections to platonic friendships to torrid affairs. A lifetime of memories compressed to a few moments on a park bench. I thought about who I was and who I had become. I reflected on my place in the sexual hierarchy. It was then in a flash I thought about power. I had power in a sexual jungle. Very few people sat where I sat. Most people are not with their heart’s desire, settling instead for someone acceptable to family and friends. I’ve seen women settle for men who could not stoke their carnal fires but had the qualification of a good job and respectable appearance. A woman who felt that her wish for the love of Mr. Goodbar was a child’s fantasy and it was time for her to grow up as her biological clock begins to tick louder. I’ve seen men who lacked sexual magnetism and had meager financial resources settle for women of mild attractiveness and mean dispositions. Women who were angry at Mr. Goodbar’s rejection and took it out on those unfortunate men who were only guilty of wanting to be in a loving relationship.
My lot in life was different. I had the power of choice. Zero tolerance was my policy. I didn’t have to put up with anything. If one woman chose to play a game I simply kicked her to the curb as the waiting list for my affections grew by the week. If I didn’t like a comment or maybe that dress didn’t hang quite right I simply moved her to the bottom of the rotation.
It was a powerful feeling. As Mr. Goodbar I had my choice of women. I was like a rich kid in a candy store. Was I feeling the prim and proper sista who just moved into the building? Maybe for a bit. Bourgeois mores drove me up a wall. She has nice legs though. I can put up with her for a minute as I find the woman below the mask to be quite imaginative.
The sista at the coffee shop has a little something. Her unpolished ways could help me pass an evening or two. Nah, she has too many stars in her eyes. Plus I wasn’t feeling her neighborhood and quite frankly didn’t want her to know where I lived.
Maybe I’ll kick it with the Korean girl who gives me a discount at her deli. Where else could I get a $10.00 meal for $1.50?
The young cleaning woman from El Salvador is a possibility. She saved her prettiest smile for me. Too bad I didn’t speak Spanish. Still, some things were understood beyond verbal communication.
Who I was gave me a great power. I had the power to make the best choice of who I would spend time with. I would never have to settle for anything.
A Love of Women
At times I read the books and studies of those who are supposedly examining the actions of my Brethren and I. Invariably, in so many words, someone will imply, or some cases blatantly state, that my Brethren have a hatred of women. A lover of many women is considered a hater of women? A paradox. A contradiction. A postulation of someone jealous of Mr. Goodbar, projecting his own misogynistic tendencies onto those whose insight into the female nature is far superior to theirs.
One thing should be made clear: Mr. Goodbar loves the ladies. To say otherwise is to question the intelligence of women. Women are not stupid. In many areas they run circles around a man in terms of mental agility. Only a woman of low self-esteem would get involved with a man who has a subliminal dislike for women. No one can hide their true feelings for long as their facial expressions and their body language signals their intent more strongly than the sweetest sounding words and expensive gifts. Women feel Mr. Goodbar not simply because of his firm body and sensual touch. They feel the love he has for the female gender.
In my travels I’ve come to realize that many men don’t attract women simply because they don’t like them. They pretend to be chivalrous and gallant but in reality women are nothing more than objects in their minds, to be discarded once their usefulness is over. Even some of my less-evolved Brethren can harbor these feelings.
Speaking for myself I love women. I think one of the biggest reasons I get the attention I do is not my almond eyes or protruding chest but my attitude that says, “I love being in your presence.” For all the sexual encounters I had, there were times I was content to be in the company of women as I felt their peaceful feminine energy calming the fire burning within me.
I had an acquaintance I would see in the neighborhood and downtown occasionally. Physically she was a work of art with dark-chocolate skin and a slim but curvy body that moved with a hypnotic sway. As outwardly enticing as she was, her true beauty came from within, as her temperament was as calming as a light shower on a hot summer day. Sometimes I would see her as I had a look of tension on my face from a challenging project. She would grab my hand and say, “Baby it’ll be all right.” My weight would lessen at that moment and I’d feel like I could take on the world. She was special because despite her beauty and charm I never thought about her in an intimately sexual manner. Her devotion for her man was always on her face and in her words. I wanted to meet him to shake his hand because he had to have it going to have earned this woman’s love.
Too many men only want to deal with women for sex and nothing else. Even during the times I only dealt with women for sex I always had a few woman just to talk to for mental stimulation and the calming effect of feminine energy. Sex is only one piece of the mosaic. An important piece but still only one. I could chill out around women and that all I needed for pleasure.
Power
One evening I contemplated the intricacies of my existence. I thought about a beautiful spring day and my moment of clarity as I sat in meditation.
It was Monday morning. I prepared for another sojourn into the land of make-believe which others call a regular workweek. I saw the same people who were into naughty lifestyles on the weekends put on business suits in a façade of respectability. I prepared to dive into this sea of smoke and mirrors.
It started at the bus stop as women young and old, of all races, sent streamers of energy my way to feel me out. Their faces were impassive masks as they stared into space or into reading material. Their body language communicated their interest. A couple I considered rewarding with my favor. In retrospect I did so on numerous occasions as the outdoor bus stand served a better purpose than a popular nightclub.
I felt the same energy when I got on the bus as the lady driver said hi to me and told me the fare was on her. Having a way with the ladies had its economic benefits.
The bus dropped me off as I thanked the driver and she said, “You’re welcome,” in a seductive tone. It was both flattering and annoying. Sometimes I wished they didn’t look at me like that. I wanted to chill sometimes.
I walked several blocks to my job. My path took me through a small park where many squirrels moved about. I stopped for a minute to observe their play. Relaxation for me was sitting in a park with a breeze blowing and birds singing. My senses were tuned to everything from the tiniest ant to the swaying of the largest tree. It took me out of the rhythm of my life and into the rhythm of the Infinite.
I returned to the park that evening after work and took a seat on a park bench. I reflected on my life. My mind drifted to the numerous encounters I had with women up to that point. I thought of every single one that was in my consciousness from adolescent crushes to heart-tearing rejections to platonic friendships to torrid affairs. A lifetime of memories compressed to a few moments on a park bench. I thought about who I was and who I had become. I reflected on my place in the sexual hierarchy. It was then in a flash I thought about power. I had power in a sexual jungle. Very few people sat where I sat. Most people are not with their heart’s desire, settling instead for someone acceptable to family and friends. I’ve seen women settle for men who could not stoke their carnal fires but had the qualification of a good job and respectable appearance. A woman who felt that her wish for the love of Mr. Goodbar was a child’s fantasy and it was time for her to grow up as her biological clock begins to tick louder. I’ve seen men who lacked sexual magnetism and had meager financial resources settle for women of mild attractiveness and mean dispositions. Women who were angry at Mr. Goodbar’s rejection and took it out on those unfortunate men who were only guilty of wanting to be in a loving relationship.
My lot in life was different. I had the power of choice. Zero tolerance was my policy. I didn’t have to put up with anything. If one woman chose to play a game I simply kicked her to the curb as the waiting list for my affections grew by the week. If I didn’t like a comment or maybe that dress didn’t hang quite right I simply moved her to the bottom of the rotation.
It was a powerful feeling. As Mr. Goodbar I had my choice of women. I was like a rich kid in a candy store. Was I feeling the prim and proper sista who just moved into the building? Maybe for a bit. Bourgeois mores drove me up a wall. She has nice legs though. I can put up with her for a minute as I find the woman below the mask to be quite imaginative.
The sista at the coffee shop has a little something. Her unpolished ways could help me pass an evening or two. Nah, she has too many stars in her eyes. Plus I wasn’t feeling her neighborhood and quite frankly didn’t want her to know where I lived.
Maybe I’ll kick it with the Korean girl who gives me a discount at her deli. Where else could I get a $10.00 meal for $1.50?
The young cleaning woman from El Salvador is a possibility. She saved her prettiest smile for me. Too bad I didn’t speak Spanish. Still, some things were understood beyond verbal communication.
Who I was gave me a great power. I had the power to make the best choice of who I would spend time with. I would never have to settle for anything.
A Love of Women
At times I read the books and studies of those who are supposedly examining the actions of my Brethren and I. Invariably, in so many words, someone will imply, or some cases blatantly state, that my Brethren have a hatred of women. A lover of many women is considered a hater of women? A paradox. A contradiction. A postulation of someone jealous of Mr. Goodbar, projecting his own misogynistic tendencies onto those whose insight into the female nature is far superior to theirs.
One thing should be made clear: Mr. Goodbar loves the ladies. To say otherwise is to question the intelligence of women. Women are not stupid. In many areas they run circles around a man in terms of mental agility. Only a woman of low self-esteem would get involved with a man who has a subliminal dislike for women. No one can hide their true feelings for long as their facial expressions and their body language signals their intent more strongly than the sweetest sounding words and expensive gifts. Women feel Mr. Goodbar not simply because of his firm body and sensual touch. They feel the love he has for the female gender.
In my travels I’ve come to realize that many men don’t attract women simply because they don’t like them. They pretend to be chivalrous and gallant but in reality women are nothing more than objects in their minds, to be discarded once their usefulness is over. Even some of my less-evolved Brethren can harbor these feelings.
Speaking for myself I love women. I think one of the biggest reasons I get the attention I do is not my almond eyes or protruding chest but my attitude that says, “I love being in your presence.” For all the sexual encounters I had, there were times I was content to be in the company of women as I felt their peaceful feminine energy calming the fire burning within me.
I had an acquaintance I would see in the neighborhood and downtown occasionally. Physically she was a work of art with dark-chocolate skin and a slim but curvy body that moved with a hypnotic sway. As outwardly enticing as she was, her true beauty came from within, as her temperament was as calming as a light shower on a hot summer day. Sometimes I would see her as I had a look of tension on my face from a challenging project. She would grab my hand and say, “Baby it’ll be all right.” My weight would lessen at that moment and I’d feel like I could take on the world. She was special because despite her beauty and charm I never thought about her in an intimately sexual manner. Her devotion for her man was always on her face and in her words. I wanted to meet him to shake his hand because he had to have it going to have earned this woman’s love.
Too many men only want to deal with women for sex and nothing else. Even during the times I only dealt with women for sex I always had a few woman just to talk to for mental stimulation and the calming effect of feminine energy. Sex is only one piece of the mosaic. An important piece but still only one. I could chill out around women and that all I needed for pleasure.
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