Have you ever been at a mall or restaurant or grocery store and watched an elderly couple clearly in love. No, I don’t mean they’re all over each other (that’s for the young). Through all the wrinkles, the joint pains, the bent walking posture, they still exhibit behavior that cries out, “we are of one heart, always have been, always will be.” I was so moved by such behavior about twenty years ago at a hamburger junk, I tucked the memory away in my mind with the intent of someday using it in a story, and I did. I was in a restaurant with my son and a couple in their late seventies sat in a corner sharing a burger and fries, only she was feeding him each bite, tenderly, with a gentle feminine touch that only a woman in love to the same man for fifty years can do. The husband’s mind had obviously seen better days, but in her eyes he was still her hero.

Now let me return to today. The last six weeks of my world has centered around my battle with cancer. Each day, as part of my treatment ritual, I sit in an office waiting for a lab test, the beginning of a six hour chemo session, a radiation section, or some other fun thing. Even at eight AM, the room is always full of fellow patients undergoing the same battle. Point is, in most cases the person sits alone, or the parent/offspring separately read magazines, or the couple sits staring off in differed directions. But on occasion, just like in the hamburger joint, you witness the true blessing of the forgotten dimension between a man and woman, the eternal bond that transcends periods of suffering, pain, and sorrow.

Two rows across and to our right sat a senior couple discussing some piece of current events or family activity. With all the things going on in their new treatment focused world, they shared a constant smile as they held hands, pressed together tightly, not as two but as one spirit. Corny? Not to me. I looked down at my wife’s hand in mine while she too observed the couple. That element of relationships, the pure dependence of one’s emotional welfare on that of their soul mate, how often do you see it celebrated in todays secular driven productions out of Hollywood? No, they typically draw attention to alternative lifestyles, or single parenthood, or in/out shallow relationships. They can trivialize traditional romance, tell us it’s dead, try to convince themselves it never really existed, but they’re wrong.

For those blessed to have experienced the bond that never ends, you are a lucky couple. I know we are.

Later

Michael Davis (Davisstories.com)
Author of the year, 4/09

From the age of about eighteen, when it came to women, I began to notice they looked at me in a special way, you know, different from guys. The smile, the corner eye glance, the cocking of the head, and so forth. As I aged, the “look” matured, became more explicit, or perhaps I became more proficient at interpreting the look. Basically, the expression was one of, “I recognize you as a male, an example of masculinity, and I am interested.” Now, I’ve been married since I was twenty, never strayed or sampled the wonder of feminine charm other than my wife, not in our entire forty years together. Yet I still recognized the look, and sometimes the accidental “touch”. You know, the split second bush of fingernails on the arm or a carefully placed palm on you chest for one second. Nothing wrong with it, just a harmless signal.

Here’s the kicker. About the age of fifty, I began to sense a change. The look had morphed, but to what? I tried to make sense of it, but it evaded me. I shook it off, ignored it, thought I was imagining things. Then about two years ago, I had an encounter with a young lady in here thirties in a retail store. She came up and made contact, but it was with the back of my arm and to my side. It was not quick and passing, but direct. They was an expression of endearment, almost…what the hell was it? Then it hit me. She was admiring me as she would her dad or grandpa. I was no longer an icon of vitality, masculinity, I was a remembrance of a fatherly role model. I sighed, cast my eyes to the ground and slowly left the store. Every place I went, encountered a young lady, a cashier, a stocker, any woman my junior, there was that say look. I had experienced the changing of the guard, the old bull let out to pasture.

Well, it was a hell of a ride as a mucho guy while it lasted. Guess I’ll go out, set on the porch, and watch the cars drive by.

I will be out of the loop for the next few months dealing with a medical crisis in my life. At first I figured the big guy would march on and do his normal routine. Now the more doctors I see, the more I realize my world will be anything but routine. I will return in three or four months. Till then, everyone take care.

Michael Davis (Davisstories.com)
Author of the year, 4/09

On the loops and chats where I participate as an author, I notice reference to female erotica. I know what is erotic to a man. Watch a porn flick and you get the idea. But what is erotic to a woman? And is the reading of erotica for the same purpose men watch porn? I’ve often wondered, given I keep hearing women are not visually oriented when it comes to sex, how does female erotica affect them. It’s clear with a man why we watch and how we respond, but what about a woman. Is it to read something she would never attempt but is curious about? Is it for physical stimulus and arousal like porn to a man? Is it just a fantasy thing that fulfills some mental need to fantasize but not to execute; what is the reason? I can’t even fathom a guess on this one so I’ll allow Candace or some other lady to give her take on it.

Big Mike (Davisstories.com)
Author of the year, 4/09

“So what do you do for a living?”

“I’m retired.”

“Oh, that’s nice. How do you fill your time?”

“I write romantic suspense novels.”

She backed up as if a human had just morphed into an alien. “What did you say?”

“You heard correctly. I write romantic suspense.”

She looked dumbfounded, as if someone just tried to explain that the world really was flat. “You’re, you’re joking right?”

“No.”

“But, but you’re a guy…I mean a really big guy. How could you…”
I could tell she thought I was pulling her chain so I offered, “Do you read the local Laker newspaper?”

“Sure, what does that…”  I could see the truth just slammed her right in the face, “You’re him.”

“Yes.”

“You’re that big guy that writes…they just wrote an article about…Do you have a website where I can see some excerpts and…”

Her entire demeanor changed. It was funny as hell. Guess I don’t fit in her mold. Can’t argue with her stereotype though; I’ve seen that strange expression from a lot of women.

Michael Davis (Davisstories.com)
Author of the year, 2008

When I was a young boy my dad was into hunting and fishing and took me with him on many occasions. By the time I hit my twenties, his interest had shifted to golf but I was already hooked. Since then, my two favorite sports have remained hunting and fishing. I think what I like most is the being outdoors. Over time, like many other sports, TV began to offer a variety of shows aimed at those that enjoy hunting and fishing. Until about six or seven years ago, the series were all male events. Even the tournaments (like BASSMASTER) were void of female participants. Then ever so slowly, the tide changed. Women began appearing on the shows, first maybe once every few months, but now almost all of them have females as regulars. In fact, there are six shows that feature husband and wife hunting teams. There’s even one show called “Women of the Wild” and an outdoor clothes supplier called “SHE”, both of which focus on the needs of females in the sport. Coupled with that change, in the last ten years the number of female hunters has grown from 200,000 to 2 million while male hunters have declined from 22 million to 19 million in the same period.

Recently, on one of the shows, they interviewed the regular ladies and asked how they got involved in such typically male sports. Know what their answer was? The men in their lives encouraged them to get involved. In every case, it was a father, husband, boyfriend, grandfather. Now why would men do such a thing given we’re the barbarian macho jerks that the progressive media coveys? Because we’re not. There has been a paradigm shift of what is acceptable for the genders and you’re seeing the results. The fathers, grandfathers, husbands and boyfriends adore the women in there life and want them to experience all the things they did.

Interesting point is that in many cases the paradigm shift was not by the men but the women themselves. I have offered to teach numerous ladies to bow hunt and fish, have taken my wife on numerous occasions, and have talked to many of my friends who have done the same. I think the expansion of opportunities for women in all areas has opened their horizons and expectations to try new things they never considered before, and when they do, they get hooked like many guys, and I think that’s great. I can’t wait, assuming I’m still around, to take my grand daughter fishing and hunting, and I’ve already informed my son and DIL to prepare for a gun token fly rod swinging girl. If she’s not interested, that’s fine, but I hope she is and her Pa Pa will be there to enjoy those special moments in a young girls life when she realizes there are no barriers, other than those that are self imposed, to what ever she wants to be.

Michael Davis (Davisstories.com)

Author of the year, 2008

What pulls a man to the ladies, latches onto his heart and makes him lose all control offer his logical mind? What specifically attracts us to the opposite gender and why is it relevant to writing fiction with a romantic slate? Would it be a surprise that much of the romantic elements in a fiction deal with attraction between the male and female? No, we all know that’s important, so let’s discuss the differences. I know as a man what attracts me to a woman, and I’m confident of that side. As far as women’s attraction to men, I’ll give it a shot but my assessment will likely be hit or miss, so ladies, correct me where you see fit.

Physically, men are clearly attracted to the area women focus a lot of their concerns, that’s right, boobs and butt, but there is more. I melt when I see a woman with perfectly shaped legs, no knee, and nylons, love the nylons. I also adore well formed fingers and hands with polished tapered nails. Doesn’t have to be red polish, clear or French nails make my heart stop. I become mesmerized in a woman’s eyes, their elongated shape, arced eyebrows, OMG. And without being a fetish, I enjoy a woman’s tiny feet. In terms of dimensions, I know a lot of time is spent discussing big breasts and large butts, but I think that’s Hollywood fantasy, not mine. I’ve seen women with small breasts and a tiny rear still drive men nuts, including me. It’s the shape of a woman, both in profile and straight on. The curves at her waist, the way they walk, even the way they twist side ways when they bend. Then there’s the dimples above her butt cheeks, the faint line running down from her chest to her naval and below, oh man. Now this may come as a shock, and I’ll try not to be too explicit, but we all love the visual appeal of the nether region; ladies it is the ultimate turn on. Of course the natural scent of a female, especially when making love, can drive our hunger over the edge. Sends a charge down my spine every time. And I don’t mean the shampoos, body washes, and colognes; I mean her natural aroma. It is what turns the fire from a small flame to an inferno. The allure is so strong in men, they even made a movie about it (Scent of a Woman)

As for the other elements of attraction, I enjoy intelligence, humor, an eternal smile that lights my crazy day when ever I’m around, her attention to appearance, the way they fill the air with talk, and especially when I know they like men. I don’t just mean for sexual purposes, I mean when they broadcast an attraction and appreciation for what men are, what they bring to their world. The way women can rush around in the kitchen cooking or the bathroom fixing their makeup, chat with their girl friends, worry about pillows stacked up three feet high on the bed, put all sorts of things I don’t even understand in the bathroom to spruce it up. And that just scratches the surface. I know there are “Player” males out there that are only into the B&B components, but most of my buds reflect the same attraction that I do.

In terms of why women are attracted to men, I’m not sure I even have a clue, so I’ll leave that to Candace or another visitor to our blog. Course that could be hard for Candace, given she once shared she had no idea why she needed men in her life, other than the physical of course (yeah, I’ll pay for that one).

Michael Davis (Davisstories.com)
Author of the year, 2008

Guys do talk about women, no not just how hot they are, but the good and the not so good. One recurring “drives me crazy” theme is how they sometimes treat their mates like little boys. I’ve watched it, I’ve experienced it. Maybe it’s a hold over from their maternal instincts, but when a small 140 pound female orders a man twice her size to do this, do that, no not that way, you’re doing it all wrong; it drives a man nuts. Two examples will illustrate.

One of my good buds asked me to help him move his boat. When I went done to his house, I watched as his 120 pound wife directed the exact way all his honey do’s were to be conducted. Not in a demeaning tone, but in a determined voice. Latter, at lunch he said, “I’m a grown man, but the woman treats me like a ten year old boy.” I just smiled, because I’d been there myself.

My wife and I were building a brick patio in the hot 93 degree noon sun. Yeah, sweating like a pig. Every other minute she corrected me on ever task I was doing, “No, put the sand bags over here”, “That’s not how the bricks go.” You need more stone over there.” To my credit, I have build patios before so I am qualified to do it, but that little bundle of beauty has to direct my every move. By the end of the day, I had bitten through my lower lip from holding back my frustration all day long.

Just remember ladies, when we’re sick, care for us like a little boy, but when we’re working on your honey do’s take pity and remember we’re grown men.

Till next post.
Michael Davis (Davisstories.com)
Author of the year, 2008

I had never voiced that trait of the female mind that way, but I had to agree with his observation. I’ve talked to other men who have come to the same conclusion: women have self imposed demons that tug at their spirit, chastise them, make them belittle the wonderful creatures they are. “I’m too fat”, “My fingernails are ugly”, “Was I to slutty last night”, “Was I too reserved”, “Am I a good wife”, “Am I a good mother”, and the list goes on and on. The only voice we guys have is “Is my little buddy sufficient to please her”, and “Did I last long enough”, (you’ll notice they’re both sexual demons, but what would you expect from rutting animals). Everything else, we give ourselves the benefit of the doubt, except if we lose our job or the woman we love, then we beat ourselves up like crazy.

I’m not sure why the difference exists, but it does. Read the magazines tuned to the ladies, or watch the shows like Oprah, Dr. Phil, etc. Many of the topics they discuss deal with the voices that haunt women. In our novel Veil of Deception, I actually had the hero struggling to understand this pain women endure and try to help the heroine stop whacking herself. This is not in anyway a dig on women, just the contrary. I came to the recognition of this reality late in my marriage (about ten years ago) and decided to do everything I could to help the woman I love vanquish her hovering demons. Several times a day, I tell my mate how much I love her, how damn good she looks, how her butt turns me on, what a great job she did or whatever, and the truth is, all those statements are true, but women need to hear them. Now, I don’t do this in the hopes of getting a little more lovin’ (wouldn’t work anyway). I do it, and have mentored my son’s to follow suit, in order to help my wife, my grand daughter, my sister, all the terrific ladies I care about to understand what a gift they are too us men.

I’m not sure why all those voices exist; maybe its upbringing, perhaps hormones, perhaps because of past years of struggling for equality. What ever the cause, I believe as men we have to recognize its not an attempt on our ladies part to confuse us or drive us nuts. It’s just another reason we have to love them all the more and help swat away those demons when ever we can.

See ya soon

Michael Davis (Davisstories.com)

Author of the year, 2008

After three decades of marriage, I’ve concluded that men suffer from what I call “Moth to the flame” syndrome. Even though we’ve been burned by the fire, we always come back again What do I mean? I have been sent out on a hundred assignments by my boss, and every single time I screw up, but instead of just saying, “Oh, no, there’s no way you’re going to get me this time”, I do it over and over again. And it’s not only me. All my buds suffer from the same sad condition.

Case in point. My wife wanted a new floor mat for the front door and assigned me the job of running down to the store and getting it (the old one was too ugly and we had company coming in from out of town). Now, in my defense, I did ask, “What color?”, “Doesn’t matter,” What shape?”, “doesn’t matter”, “What size?” “Doesn’t matter.” Well you get the idea. The kicker is that I ran through the same series of probing questions every time before, but I still always got the wrong thing, and like a moth to the flame, I always raced back into the fire again and again.

As I pondered carefully at the store over a four-dollar purchase, a young man saw me struggling and came over to help the old man examining every single floor mat in the display over and over.

“Can I help you, Sir?”

“Afraid not, Son.”

“Well, I’d like to try.”

“All right. My wife sent me to the store to find…” I didn’t have to finish my thought. With a sad expression and an understanding tone, he slowly shook his head. “I hear you brother.”

“Then you know…”

“Yes, I know. No matter what you do, it will be wrong.”

We both synchronized with lamenting head nods while the young man shared his own experience.

“Two weeks ago, I asked my newlywed wife, ‘Babe, what’d say we drive up the Blue Ridge and afterward stop for lunch. This will be your day, what ever you want.’ You see, I thought I was doing a good thing. I even asked, ‘What time do you want to stop for lunch’ and she said, ‘Oh, I don’t care you decide’ So around 1100 we were passing peaks of otter (a local restaurant) and she mentioned, ‘Isn’t that a cute little place over there?’ I nodded in agreement and kept driving. After another fifteen minutes I noticed the car had become strangely quiet. She was no longer humming or chatting about this and that. All the morning cheer had been replaced by a frown. ‘What’s the matter, Babe?’ I asked. She looked out the window and announced, ‘You don’t really love me anymore, do you?’ Man, I swear, I almost ran off the road. ‘What? Well of course I love you. You mean everything to me.’ ,‘Then why didn’t you stop when I asked you to? I thought you said this trip was about me?’”

I could see moisture forming in the poor boy’s eyes. “I swear man. I never knew when she said that ‘cute little place’ she meant…”

I firmly patted his shoulder and suggested, “I know son. Don’t try to figure it out. Just accept the inevitable. You will always be wrong. As the years go by, you’ll grow to accept your destiny, grasshopper.”

We both shook hands and departed with a profound appreciation for a man’s suffering and willingness to continually return to the flame. Oh, and I did get the wrong floor mat, but you knew that was coming didn’t you?

Michael Davis (Davisstories.com)
Author of the year, 2008

Is there anyone out in web world past the age of 25 that hasn’t recognized men and women communicate differently? In the early days of interactions with my life mate, I actually thought my main squeeze did her confusing way of communication to drive me crazy. After about ten years, it finally hit me. She just communicates in a different language, one I was never indoctrinated to in school. Need an example? Check this one out. When we go to the grocery store, if the boss says, “I’ll only be ten minutes,” I now know via my man-woman translator that she means, “come back in an hour or so.” Well, to help expedite the process, I ask for my own list that I can rush around, pick up, and toss into the basket.

About a month ago, I asked, “are we done yet, are we done yet”, and she handed me the dairy part of the page. The only items there were cream, butter, and OJ. I did as directed, got em, ran back, dumped the items in the cart and looked around but she was gone. I pushed the basket around until I found her and yelled, “meet ya at the check out counter”, and ran off. When we got home, after she unpacked all the groceries, she inquired, “Hey, you forgot the sour cream and cottage cheese? “ Now, I felt secure I was safe because I still had my copy of the diary list she had handed me. I extended the list and smiled, knowing I would be vindicated, “Check the list, woman. There’s no mention of sour cream OR cottage cheese.” She frowned. “I didn’t write them down because I know that every time I get in the dairy department to get cream, I always get cottage cheese and sour cream also. So where is it?” I was dumbfounded. “You mean to tell me that I was supposed to read you mind and …” Now get this, then she had the fortitude to inform me, “If you can’t do the job, then don’t offer to help.” Again, even thought I was technically right, I was gender blind when I read her grocery list and did not enact the gender translator. Oh, well. At least it makes life interesting.

Tell next time

Big Mike (Davisstories.com)
Author of the year, 2008