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

I am very excited about this one because it concerns an initial story idea I got from watching local news reports about the presence of the FLDS religious compound and the number of illegal aliens and drugs coming across the border south of Phoenix. After spending some hours on the phone with Big Mike talking about our characters, what they would be for a living, and how they would become embroiled in border and religious activities, we worked on putting together an outline, a timeline, and characterizations we could both follow along with.

That kernel of an idea I had so many months ago turned into a real nail biter of a suspense novel with, surprisingly, very little romance. This is something new for me. Yeah, when I started writing before Big Mike’s input, I was already adding romantic scenes. When the collaboration truly started, these scenes no longer made much sense so they were all deleted, for the most part. But I’m not complaining; I think the end result is incredibly good. Another bonus? Without the sex scenes this is one book I can be comfortable sharing with DMIL and my pastor’s wife.

Hopefully the next news we have regarding Whispers of Innocence is good news regarding publication.

Now, who will play the part of the heroine, Micki Lewis, in the movie? She looks like Scarlett Johansson so that’s a good choice. And the hero, Drake Elliot? I picture him looking like Dr. House but Big Mike modeled him after Sam Elliot.  That actor is a bit too old to play the part but Hugh Laurie might be perfect…

Big Mike took exception to the guy’s comments because he didn’t think it was realistic. Now maybe it’s because Mike was raised as a Southern gentleman and I was raised around men in an auto parts store, but we had a slight difference of opinion. Big Mike contends that the hero would never have stood by while this dialogue was going on, even if the woman was a complete stranger. Alas, but not all men are as chivalrous.

I can think of several instances where I’ve encountered a real jackass. I’ve had an ex-boyfriend slash my tires and throw a knife into the headlights on my beloved Chevy Camaro Berlinetta while I watched. In a previous post, I related how a manager of mine in the auto parts store pounded his fist on the counter mere inches from my face. I’ve been the target of many a raised fist (that luckily never made contact due to the man’s better judgment kicking in at the last minute). I’ve head crude comments when I was walking down the street, such as “Hey honey! Looking good! Want to come for a ride with me?” I’ve seen rude hand gestures, heard smoochy noises, and been subjected to unwanted touching and groping.

In none of these cases did some knight in shining armor come to my rescue, even when there were other men around. Nope, I was on my own.

I have to think I’m not the only one. Ladies, tell me if you’ve encountered a similar circumstance in your life.

Now, I’m going to give it a shot, but I’m sure Candace will correct me since I am coming from a blind side. From what I’ve observed when young women refer to a BB, it’s someone that excites their physical drives via visual stimulation, appears aggressive or angry, someone they would enjoy a roll with, but would never consider viable material for a long term relationship, because such BB are all about the physical. To them the female is a receptacle, nothing more then a release. Crude, yes, but I presume that’s why they’re bad boys.

To a male a BG is also not commitment material, but for different reasons. In the traditional sense, the male attempts to select a life mate that he believes will remain true so that his efforts to provide for and secure the family are in deed in support of his own biological offspring. On the other hand, the woman always has the advantage of knowing the child burgeons from her genes, but she must insure her selection of a long term mate is aimed at a good provider and a protector, not someone that will plant and run. Indeed, I believe that the antenna of many young girls today has not been conditioned or mentored to recognize that a bad aggressive boy does not translate to a good mate. That’s why so many end up single mothers.

I’m sure others may disagree but that’s my take.

Big Mike
Davisstories.com