Sex for a Past-60 Writer in #MeToo Era: Something is Amiss

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Having knocked out 50,000 words for a NaNoWriMo submission this past November while working a never-saw-this-possibility-on-radar job pre-loading UPS trucks overnight, I recognized (not for first time) how much more difficult the love scenes were to write without some, you know, relatively recent transfer of that sexual energy.

Watching reruns of ‘Mad Men,’ I’m not talking Don Draper, drunk but always ready-able to get it up and in at any opportunity – THAT hasn’t been a reality for waaay longer than being sixty.

An aunt I truly respected suggested (well, stated) that I needed more-better bait than just being a Good Guy and the right equipment to find-deserve That Woman. I get that more clearly now.

Frankly ladies, we all want to know we’ve still got ‘It’ on that front, and not that you’ll be needing The Rabbit to satisfy you when we leave.

Introspection, not analysis

For those who might be expecting an analysis of recent opportunities or techniques related to that 60+ category, ummm, today I turned 61, and the past 366 days haven’t included sharing that desirable activity. I’m sorrier than you’ll know about not being able to enlighten anyone about empirical factors the title might suggest.

Mostly I’m believing I’m not the only guy wondering which end is up in the post-Weinstein scheme of things. We’re a million miles from getting through awkward breakfasts in college, much closer to Seth Meyers recent proclamation when hosting the Golden Globes that, “For the male nominees here tonight, this is the first time in three months it won’t be terrifying to hear your name read out loud.”

There has been LOTS of documented abuse of women along the way by Hollywood and/or male brethren of all stripes. I’ve never been a ‘crotch cricket’ as Dad referred to womanizers (like a college roommate) of a certain stripe, or walked around with my pants to my knees. Like Meyers, I’ve seldom had the power to hold sex over anyone, although I might’ve said something similar to what local Carolina Panthers owner Jerry Richardson allegedly did, about the shapeliness of certain jeans-wearing females.

Hey, college and the herpes-challenged ‘80s featured Jordache and similar $100-plus jeans, and it was pretty much mandatory that noticing and commenting was expected. Now, and sixty-plus, is an obviously different day.

A Good Man is Hard to Find

Working in scholastic fundraising in the ‘Nineties – where younger, smart, good-looking teachers were common and I wasn’t close to sixty – wasn’t the place for “cutting a filly out of the herd” reputation-wise. The divorced moms with kids I dated after moving to Charlotte were okay, often just a scheduling thing. Ditto for my real estate years, although I was in a relationship then.

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Being invited for mimosa or Bloody Mary brunch works for me.

The Great Recession flat out sucked – that’s the nut I’m working with.

Fundraising success and feeling very Good Human Being-ish while participating in Junior Chamber of Commerce activities back then was legitimate, and shouldn’t we admit that ‘successful,’ like my aunt stated, trumps POS Guy at this point (with Chippendale types always being an exception)?

I’ve been told I’m pretty well-preserved, and with a now two-year old knee replacement in 2020, personal energy is higher than its been in years, though finances since the recession haven’t sparkled.  It seems those Women who have houses (or got as result of divorces) are a bit more concerned about possibility of sharing resources with ‘keepers’ than less equal (even if kind of studly) older lovers.

‘A good man is hard to find, but a hard man

is good to find’

SEX, whether sweaty or sloooow good, is less like the lady who once told me, “Just because we’re not going to be forever doesn’t mean we have to give up something we obviously both like.” Perhaps not Beyonce and ‘Put a Ring on It,’ although relationship status doesn’t really affect The Act.

I’d bet that a quantity of the negatives we’ve heard about still kinda fit in the category of “I seem to remember the circumstances a bit differently,” that Lauer and Rose used, as un-PC as that might come out.

 Is it possible that Al Franken is the ONLY guy from SNL days that groped someone?

Writing-wise, I seem to be using OLD memories. While I’ve never been graphic-graphic in book scenes, and I know the sensuality and caring still flows, actual pillow talk and bouncing previously written material off a date (while noting which parts reeeeallly worked for her), made things so simple. Sex isn’t as distant as the moon, but it doesn’t show up every Friday night either.

Contrary to what ol’ Bill Clinton danced around, sexually guys DO know what is, is, but cuddling isn’t sex.

My question is: If or when I hammer that 50,000 or so words into a script and it miraculously become a Success, will it get easy to find mutually desirable-willing ladies again? Or, will *I* be on guard about life resources coming down the proverbial stretch? Would I, hard to believe, become too picky myself?

I admit missing the notion that, “A good man is hard to find, but a hard man is good to find,” “It takes two,” or yes, very definitely, “There’s a Good Woman behind every successful man (and she wants you to get your clothes off NOW!)”

To say good sex still comes from the heart and not a little blue pill is problematic—I’ll let you know after I’ve been in a situation where that little blue pill might make a helluva difference.

‘Trump’s America’: If We’re Still on the List for ‘His Light Shine Down on Thee,’ Cool

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“Believe me, EVERYBODY says my spaghetti and meatballs are absolutely the *best* they have EVER had the privilege of putting in their collective mouths.”

Saying my spaghetti sauce and meatballs is world famous, that I came out of a knee assessment meeting Friday and sank my first five free throws (nothing but net) in a light rain, and that I made an AMAZINGLY ballsy $50,000 bet on Jacksonville to beat the Steelers would be (1) an un-humble opinion, even if these firefighters liked having dinner made for them, (2) seriously un-good counting, and (3) an absolute and outrageous lie.

In Trump’s America, this range of alternative facts clearly leaves Truth outside in the cold– it’s been hovering around freezing in Charlotte most of the last two weeks– and dissing other countries and people has never been in my personal mix.

Okay, I’ve made fun of New Jersey a couple times in my life– nobody cares about that.

I’m just Glenn Shorkey, a decently above average writer and human being, not the President of the United States, and very few people care what outrageous things come out of my mouth. Actually, to have one of those resumes I sent last week draw enough interest to schedule an interview would be gratifying, but at no point will my signature be enough to affect the health care of millions of fellow Americans, or roll back forty years of  progress on issues like the environment, voting rights, and social welfare.

I can’t be the only one worried about what the relative avalanche of negatives D. Trump has brought to this nation means in the Biggest Picture. Yeah, yeah, 18% No Matter What base, I gotcha about he’s doing what you– and the Russian robots– supposedly elected him to do. (Charlie Coalminer, you been called back to work yet? Uh huh, didn’t think so.)

All the Sunday morning politicos seem to believe midterm elections, where the Dems will regain control over in the House and *maybe* impeachment can begin? is on the horizon for late 2018. (Sigh) Control? Yeah, that worked soooo well for eight years, when Repub minority was willing to stop the government and toss the country over an economic cliff rather than let Obama get *one*stinking*thing*done* that they might have to give him and Dems credit for.

Politics haven’t made life better in the United States for a while. To continually see the disdain Trump and GOP have for almost everyone– and that $1.5 trillion ‘tax break’ takes the proverbial cake– is stupefying to watch, outrage after outrage that nobody could have imagined 16 months ago. Most are simply hoping Mueller scrapes a few of the real S**tholes (pedophiles aren’t his deal) away from the political scene, while others swear that when the jackboots are on different feet, ohhhh BOY! is there going to be payback.

I sang that ‘God shed his light on thee’ verse for years, but I’m starting to wonder if fatigue is going to set in on resisting, or whether we can gut this current mess out and be somehow worthy again.

The world is truly watching, and amazingly, they don’t hate US (vs. U.S.) for what’s coming from the Twitterer in Chief’s mind and fingers. They don’t trust us to be the light of the world we always kinda prided ourselves on, but that’s legit. The only real power we actually had was the ballot box, and man, we got schtupped on that front, no matter HOW many times anyone says, “No collusion!”

Fingers crossed on next time…? (and if you say “Oprah” that’s kind of what got us to here, y’know?)

For the record, today’s spaghetti sauce was the worst batch in a very, very long time. I missed the first six free throws– including two that were so off to the left they didn’t even draw iron, my knee assessment isn’t until the 17th, and the last time I put 50 thousand on the line, I had quad eights, and it was in CHIPS, not actual dollars.

I’m of the belief we have to get back to saying things that are True True, not b.s. that anyone with a cell phone can Google to check on– like who was/wasn’t #1 in their class at Wharton. If as a country we still rate having His light shine down on us, cool.

 

Knee rehab, 2018 and Beyond: Effort is Always a Primary Ingredient to Success

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The night crew for St. Gabriel Men’s Club 32nd Annual Christmas Tree sale.

It was a very different final quarter to 2017, so I’m catching up to many friends and contacts about where I’m at, with start of new year as a good and necessary idea.

‘Where’ is within touching distance-completion on my very personal One Thing. When I started in real estate (with Keller Williams-Southpark, 2016), that was a factor they wanted us to articulate during training: What reason would get you out of bed every morning, getting busy with whatever was most important to you and your Success?

Economics of real estate aside, that One Thing always meant my iffy left knee getting replaced in 2017. I wasn’t  sure HOW (Christmas Wish for Knee–bazinga!), but was willing to pursue as possible. Getting x-rays became a major immediate step, from go-go, more-faster! environment pre-loading UPS trucks overnight, to front of the Make Me/Knee Physically Better line.

When you catch a major break like that, I’m thinking you owe the Universe your very best effort in return.

I believe that *every*little*bit*more*I*do* goes directly to helping the strength and functions of my knee-quad-whatever. (What I’ve told my PT person, Amanda, often, and myself even more frequently)  

Saying I’m knee deep in rehabbing is certainly accurate, and it’s definitely a quantifying of effort deal, doing whats needed to become Better.

Better? Maybe not a crazy good jump shooter again, but able to plant the left foot for a forehand up the line, or maybe throw a snowball and hit the damn tree? How many toes risers or quad flexes, and how often for that?  I am pleased that Becca keeps saying, “little bit more!” until I hit a solid extra marking point.

There are obvious economic goals to be handled soon in 2018, but a couple times a day I look at ERMI (Extended Range of Motion Improvement, Inc.) machine, pull that pneumatic lever a bit further than ‘uncomfortable’, and I can SEE my new knee working. Bringing that quad back to life, *every quivering extra second those muscles twitch* means Glennie is doing best and necessary on effort front.

Hearing you’re at 96 and thinking about 100 as a next mark is one heck of a motivator when I’m in the ERMI saddle getting scrunched for 10 minutes.

Its been ten days of meat locker temperatures here in Charlotte, but its cold everywhere, and that’s not why my knee feels stiff. Staying on the exercises, doing ERMI scrunching four times a day, physical therapy is PERSONAL. You know that ‘You can’t fake steak’ commercial? Its like that.

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Friday was my Men’s Club meeting (St. Gabriel), and we had a special send-off for a super-dedicated member, Mark Herboth, who among other things, fed our group well for as long as I remember. While he’s moving to Raleigh area for grand kids availability, ‘Herbie’ is the guy who got me doing overnights for ROOM IN THE INN program–this would’ve been Year 8 with same crew…

My taking on the ‘Tree Tsar’ role for our group’s  Christmas tree sale the last two years came from examples like Herbie—my brother, Mike too— guys who have cared and DONE for a long time, but Herbie was an Inspiration. When we needed a leader on trees, our biggest project of the year, I was willing-able to step up. And doesn’t that float most of our boats? A couple sincere attaboys! when what you do makes a difference, doesn’t hurt to let people know you appreciate the effort.

We had an exceptional sale, even if there were a couple code red calls for workers on evening shift. My Attaguy! guy was Greg Hebesian.

We’re going to need more, not less, of similar willingness to stand up and help each other going forward, give the best little bit of You possible to someone who maybe needs it a little more. The beauty of RITI program is that maybe seven groups all do a piece– there are drivers, dinner people, lunch makers, laundry people, and yes, over-nighters.

In 2018, I’ll continue being thankful for two good legs to stand on. I’ll also work with a ‘Less Trump, more Matt Damon’ (reference from ‘Martian’) attitude. Stranded on Mars, astronaut Damon takes an *awful* lot of events in the chops for a long time, even starving. At the end, he gets told to cannibalize and turn his recovery spaceship into a convertible, but his mantra is to ‘do the numbers, and if you get enough of them right, you get to keep going’.

Think about that for working the whole plan, step by step. I gotta go scrunch my knee.