 There’s
that story: The young bull and old bull lumber up to the mountaintop.
Looking down the other side they view a heard of cows grazing in
the pasture. The young bull's beside himself, shouting, “Let’s
run down there and do one of them!” The old bull surveys the
situation and in a steady voice says, “Let’s just walk
down and do them all.”
Let’s eavesdrop in on a make believe San Miguel bar conversation,
old guy, young guy.
“Dude, I don’t get it.”
“Whatcha mean?”
“Dude, there’s like no chics.”
“Whatcha mean there’s no chics, you must be blind rather
than having a paper ass. There must be at least a hundred nice-looking
women scampering around here.”
“You know what I mean, Dude. Like the ones I’m interested
in.
“How’s that?”
“Dude, up in Austin, I’m the tits. I got ‘em sucking
up to me. You know what I am saying.”
“You’re saying Selma Hayek hasn’t come over here
to lick your face."
“Nah, it’s just that it's lame, half of them are beat
anyway.”
“So, young Dude sees himself as some fucking prince and most
of the ladies aren’t good enough for you.”
 “Dude,
I’m a man of taste and distinction.”
“Claro! But at the same time, you’re coming up empty
and going home with your dick in your hand.’
“Hey Dude, don’t play me like that.”
“Why not?"
"Cause, Dude, you're supposed to hand over all that wisdom
before you cash in and go to worn-out old dude heaven."
"Oh yeah? Well, I think I'm hip to your problem…Let’s
size you up, young Dude. So, I’d say you’re about 24.”
“You’re in there, Dude.”
“So then I’d say your overall scope on women is somewhat
narrow and somewhat jaded.”
“Whatcha getting at Dude?”
“You’re interested in nothing over 30, unless she’s
Sharon Stone, but even then what the fuck would Dudeface say to
Sharon? “um, ah, um, dah, Sharon, you like Eminem, or what?”
and you’ve sworn off teenagers. You’re into what I'll
call ‘a hankering for that real women’ phase.”
“Don’t try and fence me in, Dude.”
“Older men tend not to limit possibilities.”
“Yeah, ‘cause old Dudes are happy to take anything they
can get.” [chuckles]
“You’re locked in numbers kid. You should pay more attention
to percentages,
“Do tell, Master. About the percentages, old Dude?”
“Ok Grasshopper. All of us rank somewhere, guys, chics, young
and old. You got to look at percentages besides that other stuff.”
“Like what other stuff, Dude?”
“I can’t go there…that part gets too weird. You’ll
find out for yourself. But I figure everybody falls in between 5
and 95% as far as the scale of their sexual appeal. For instance:
Let’s say you’re a hunk, el chido, every woman’s
dream. Still, your top grade can be no better than 95%, and there’s
always that 5%. Then let’s go the other way, you’re
uglier than dog shit…a grace-saving is that at least 5% will
dig your sorry ass. So if there are a 100 babes in this place, worst
case scenario, there’s at least 5 that might find you appealing.”
 “What’s
that mean?”
“Unlike the “10” scale that's related mostly to
chics, the percentage factor makes more sense than the “10”
thing. ‘Cause even with hound dog looks, nobody gets pitched
a shut out. Let’s take you: you’re young, decent features,
you look in condition, plus you can afford your own drinks. Let’s
give you the benefit of the doubt and say that 65% of the mujeras
in here could find themselves having a decent conversation with
you and perhaps give you signals that things could progress.”
“Dude, I think you’re coming up a bit short on me, but
go ahead.”
“That means, there could be 65 women in this room who might
find you appealing. ”
“And?”
“But what I see is a young man shelving the possibilities,
trying to achieve the unachievable to score some Bambi, who’s
more than likely out of his league; butterflying all around her,
trying to be impressive, yet getting nowhere, being merely wallpaper
as she looks right through you in search of Justin Timberlake.”
“I got news for you, Dude, Justin ain't showing up."
“Oh, yeah, in your case, they're all Justins and you ain't."
“Hey Dude, don't give me that. I know what I have to do!”
“That’s the trouble, maybe you don’t.”
“What’s that supposed to mean, Dude?”
“Your process of elimination narrows your percentages. She’s
got to be a knock out, have a body to die for. She has to be smart,
but not too smart, but smart enough to pay for her own drinks and
all the time acting like she’s interested and half crazy about
your sorry ass.”
“Get out!”
“Consider your competition. You think these other guys are
asleep at the switch? They’re working men too, how do you
spell “bilingual,” Fool? And there’s a lot more
going on than you think these days. The women got the word, read
that shit in Vanity Fair. Consuelo don’t get all starry eyed
no more when you play, 'I want to make you the mother of my children.'
The empty heads might but whatcha going to talk about after the
deed?”
“Yeah, but . . .”
“Yeah, but my ass, Dude. Stick in your territory with the
ones within your grasp, and deep down you know where that is and
you'll be a lot happier. Now if you go head over heels and “She’s
the one”, you got to give that one your best shot. They say
true love conquers all, but that’s not what we’re talking
'bout here.”
“Yeah, Dude, but I like ‘em fine, full, ruby lips, eyes
a-sparkling with that come hither look. Yeah, that’s the ticket!”
“Fact is every women has a particular beauty. Each seems to
possess some appeal. So you zero in on those finer aspects and ignore
whatever warts or disfigurements they may have--not that she has
to have any.”
 “Dude,
you mean, like if she doesn’t have a downtown ass, but she’s
fun and spunky and makes ya laugh? You must be talking about my
sister.” [laughs]
“Right, and when you are in that old comfort zone she appears
radiant, and in her eyes, so do you, ‘cause you shed that
superficial cover-girl bullshit. Stay within your percentages. Like
I said, it’s all a number game.”
“Wow, Dude, right on, I never saw it that way.”
“When a woman feels truly appreciated you get a chance to
see her become strikingly beautiful. And when a chump like you takes
time to listen and shut the fuck up, and especially when they’re
in love, they get this glow. You should try it sometime.”
“Who’s talking about love, Dude? I just wanna get laid.”
“…Right! What's wrong with me? I must be hallucinating.
Why haven't you slapped me? Forget about it! My, my, my, look at
that fine-looking mother-daughter team that just came through the
door. Let's go say, hola, and offer them a drink."
"I'm with you, old Dude."
"Solid, Grasshopper. You got the mom.” |
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