The Large Man Chronicles

Once upon a time, while delayed in some airport, in some town, I was perusing the magazine stand in the snack shop/drink shop/book shop/shop shop. As I perused, I noticed that about 12 of the 22 women’s magazines mentioned something to the effect of how women could turn on their partners …drive their men wild…get the attention they deserve….etc. etc….for better and more frequent sex (or better “lovemaking” for the readers over 60). There were “must do” lists, there were articles, interviews with experts; all the knowledge a woman would need to make a man want to get jiggy with her.

Hmmm…Is there a problem going on that I don’t know about?

Guys talk about sex too. However, in the 50 years and 10 days of my life, not one boy, dude, guy, or man has ever said to me, “Large Man, my (woman) just can’t seem to turn me on. She tries and tries, and nothing seems to work. Do you know where there is some reading material on this subject?”
I have NEVER had that conversation.

I’m not talking about enough sex, let’s face it – twice a day, every day of the week, and double that on a rainy Sunday on vacation, might not be enough sex. How can you define “enough”?  And I’m not talking about the quality of the activity…that’s another subject, and a subject in which no single person could be an authority.  I’m talking about the need to publish an article or a “to do” list on things a woman can do to get a man interested in her.

What the hell people? This type of writing is wasteful. It wastes the time of the reader, it wastes an editor’s time, and it wastes space in a magazine that could be used for other writing…perhaps writing that is creative in nature…perhaps an occasional Large Man episode. This is a self-serving point, but a valid point none the less.

So this got the Large Man thinking; who could be more of an expert on the subject of being turned on than me? Basically, I’m a walking, talking erection. I consider myself an expert in this field, because this has been a fairly chronic condition since I was 13 or 14 years old. We’re talking 36 years of experience.

SO…I thought I would offer my expertise to all the readers of The Large Man Chronicles free of charge. My only request is that when these techniques are used, and you realize how well they work, you credit me during the pillow talk session after your bliss.

One magazine had a list of 50 things…I will give you just 5 simple moves. This magazine offers a bunch of bullshit made up by people who are just writing to get attention…I…well…sometimes that’s alright I guess. Anyway my 5 moves are based on real life experiences – experienced by me, and other guys that I know. These are simply things that women have done to get me interested in having sex with them. Obviously, identities will not be revealed in the interest of decorum and protecting the innocent (or guilty).

Move # 1
This little trick was sprung on me very early in my life. Two innocent (age of consent) kids figuring out the beauty of life, first love, and all its sweetness.  She took my hand, kissed me, and then looked in my eyes and said, “Come on…let’s go in the other room”. It worked

Move # 2
A little later in life when we were a more promiscuous society…late 70s early 80s…sex and drugs and disco era, I found myself looking for comfort about town. It was during this time when this particular move was used deftly by a young lady with whom I was dancing. She leaned into me, pressed her body against me and without any eye contact she hoarsely (smoker) whispered in my ear, “Come on… let’s get out of here”.  Once again, I was helpless. I had to go. A subtly different move, but just as effective as move # 1… maybe even more effective, as I had no real emotional or romantic attachment to this person.

Move # 3
I would say that this happened with my first real grown up, long-term relationship. Thankfully I didn’t marry this girl, but I could have. She really knew how to “get my attention”, if you catch my drift. We had been dating a couple of weeks…the dates became more about dinner and TV at one of our apartments rather than dinner and a movie out. We were watching TV on the sofa at her apartment, we’re kind of kissing, and hugging…I guess you would call it making out. Then she sort of gently pushed me away from her, looked at me and said, “Come on…let’s go to my room”. DAMN!!! Next thing I know we’re having breakfast. Her room was right there in the same apartment, so from a logistics standpoint it couldn’t have been easier . We didn’t even have to put on our shoes. Try this one ladies, if it doesn’t work I’ll give you your money back.

Move # 4
Move number 4 has a special place in my heart because of a 100% success ratio. A couple of different ladies have used this move, so I’m thinking some magazine may have already published it.  It plays out like this…The woman asks me if I want to have sex.
 I think the beauty of move # 4 may lie in its simplicity.

Move # 5
This one needs a little set up…
This is one that’s most effective at the beach.  I was younger…college age…and a group of us were in the Outer Banks of NC. I was staying in a house with a bunch of fishing and drinking buddies. Two houses down from us were a group of 8 girls on spring break. Just because of location we would see each other out on the beach during the day, share our coolers, sunscreen…play volleyball …swim together in the emerald green waters of the Atlantic.
One night we were all at a popular night spot listening to music, dancing, drinking…enjoying life. Around 11:30, one of the girls asked me if I wanted to go for a walk on the beach (that’s why I think this move works better at the beach)…I said yes. We walked, talked, held hands…next thing we know we’re in the general vicinity of our beach houses…GREAT! We sit in the sand, smooch a couple of times…and she looks at me and asks if I share a room with anyone. I reply that I have the master suite all to myself. She grabs my hand, and here comes move # 5…she say’s loudly over the crashing waves,  “Come on…let’s go to your place!”  We did…and, and well…you know the rest.

You can see a resemblance to  move #s 1 thru 3 , but when you consider the environment, it clearly stands on its own.

***

So there you have it ladies. My advice humbly submitted, and based on life experience of 50 years. I hope it helps. If nothing else, I gave you real and useful information, and saved a few bucks that you may have spent on a magazine.

To all you guys on The Large Man distribution list…if any of these moves are used on you, it’s more than likely a pure coincidence, but just in case…you’re welcome. Furthermore, if you are one of “those guys”, by that I mean guys that are the inspiration for the articles and lists that I am dismissing here…never, NEVER, tell me about it!

To be continued…

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The Large Man Chronicles

October 25, 2009

A Large Man Looks at 50

Today as I turn the big 5 OHH, I chronicle from my remote office on the 22^nd floor in a Renaissance hotel. I’m in Nashville to do some work. This is not the way I would have chosen to spend my 50^th birthday, but let’s be honest, I’m 50…it’s probably time to stop expecting fireworks, adulation, pony rides, balloons animals, and strippers. My family and I celebrated yesterday, my Face Book page is full of birthday cheer, and I launched a blog this week. I think we’re done celebrating this milestone.

As I always do on my birthday, and especially on milestone birthdays, I have taken some time to reflect on this blessed life of mine. Most new acquaintances and friends seem surprised that I’m 50 – that’s a good thing I guess. Many people have asked me how I feel…the simple answer is that I feel like shit. I don’t want to be 50. I realize that there is nothing I can do about it, and I won’t squander the rest of my days wishing I was younger.  All I’m saying is that I don’t want to be 50. I’m not complaining about where I am, or what I am. Believe me I realize that I’m lucky to be here.

 I’m not happy about 50, but I don’t want to be 20 either. 20 was tough. When I was 20 I never expected – in my wildest imagination – that I would ever reach 30, much less 50. Most people who knew me when I was 20 will agree with that statement.

My friends and I didn’t think that I would make it to 30 –  not because of some rare genetic disease or defect…not at all. The problem I had back then is known as CRI: not a disease, but more of a condition.

CRI is the medical industry’s acronym for a condition known as Cranial Rectal Insertia. It affects a large portion of the male population aged from around 16 to about 35. Women (and girls) can get it too, but it’s rare. Some people never shake it and have to deal with it their whole lives. It can be very hard on a victim’s family as well. The saddest cases result from someone who has the condition, but never realizes it. In those cases it seems to affect everyone around the person.

You won’t ever see a telethon for CRI, there won’t be fund-raisers, 5 K runs, or marches on Washington demanding that more funds be allocated to research for a cure for CRI….there is some irony here  because NIH did a study that showed more politicians suffer from CRI than any other professional sector in the U.S. It seems that nobody wants to acknowledge that a person can actually have their head up their ass.

I did, right up my ass… right up until about age 35 I had been a chronic sufferer. Wrecked cars, wrecked relationships, lost jobs, lost money, and lost friends. I was a nobody, going nowhere…v e r y slowly. The things that I did from Wednesday to Sunday while I was in my 20s should have killed me. Why it didn’t, I’ll never know. Perhaps God needed someone to eradicate the world supply of micro-brews and Buffalo style chicken wings. If that’s my purpose here, I have served it well. Just between us Large Man associates, I am hoping I have a greater calling.

The good news is that CRI doesn’t have to be a lifetime condition, and that’s what I like about being 50. That’s the good part about the aging process in general. Oh sure, I still have relapses, but they are fewer and further between, and a lot more mild at 50 than they were at 40… and 40 was better than 30. Until our government gets off their heads, (get it…heads) it looks like the aging process is the only treatment for this scourge on mankind.

30 years ago (age 20) on my milestone birthday, I was sitting on the side of the road with a broken car. 20 years ago (age 30) was nursing a broken nose….neither of those were great memories. CRI had a lot to do with how I celebrated those birthdays.

10 years ago I scored 2 touchdowns in a flag football game; I was strolling around my favorite pub with my favorite friends, A WIFE,  and  my new daughter – just 6 months old – wrapped up in a Baby Bjorn safely against my massive and chiseled Large Man chest. See…better…the aging process doing its work. The only person in the world smiling brighter and laughing louder than my little girl; was me.

Having a wife allows you to have somebody around you (all the time) that can show you where you are putting your head. Having children forces you to understand the ramifications CRI. This point cannot be emphasized enough. Men: read this paragraph twice!

Now I can’t sit here and tell you that just because I’m 50 I’m completely immune to CRI. I did it just a couple of months ago. Throwing that glass bottle into the wood chipper seemed like a cool thing to do. Last summer my trip down that steep hill on my son’s mini Razor scooter seemed reasonable at the time the idea came to me. It still happens, but at age 50 the episodes are shorter, and you get over them much faster.

So there you have it…I’m not “Jazzed!!” to be 50, but I am happy to be here. Right here, right now, with all of you ain’t bad. Now that I’ve shared another little tale, I’m going to Tootsie’s to eradicate some more micro-brew. Cheers to you all, and thank you so much for the birthday wishes, and especially for taking the time to read. I’m putting this toy away for a week or so to focus on revenue generating activities.

One last celebration thing: I did promise Dave Bartee that I would mention in the next Large Man story that he was the first to speak to me and wish me happy birthday on my actual birthday.  The 1:30 AM call was much appreciated….a little difficult to understand, and not really a surprise (he never forgets)…but appreciated.

Until next time…

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The Large Man Chronicles

Long Island , NY

From January 2009

This is an early Large Man story based on an experience that first put the writing bug in my head. This is probably the first LMC that was sent out to more than just a couple of  email friends.

I travelled through Long Island today, Jones Beach, Fire Island, Massapequa …not that Massapequa is all that remarkable, I just like saying  M a s s a p e q u a a a a… It’s almost as fun as Sacagawea. I could say Sacagawea 100 times a day, and never get tired of it….plus, I love ethnic women.

Anyway…I worked. I had a good slice of pizza for lunch. I went to a Target, and bought floss, spray starch (`cause that’s how I roll) a nice pair of navy blue Champion sweat pants for $8.99. (AWESOME!!) Then, I crossed the Long Island Sound into Connecticut on the Port Jefferson Ferry.

The Port Jeff Ferry system is a pretty impressive operation (even though it’s not particularly fun to say).It takes people from Long Island to Bridgeport CT – and back – several times a day…each and every day, and it’s been doing what it’s been doing for a long time. It’s significant to me because the last time (and the first time) I was on the Port Jeff Ferry was September 11^th 2001. The Port Jeff Ferry meant a lot to me that day, it was my $48.50 ticket home to my family, when I wasn’t completely sure when or if I would see my family again.

I stood in silent awe and terror, on the East River in Queens NY shortly after the planes hit the World Trade Center.  I was with a customer – completely out of harm’s way, but not sure about that fact at the time. I didn’t see anything happen, but I saw the smoky aftermath, I saw the throngs of pedestrian traffic walk across the Williamsburg Bridge…I saw things (like all of us did) that I would have rather not seen.

I saw other things too. On the Port Jefferson Ferry, on September 11^th 2001, I saw people being kind to each other, I saw people helping each other out. I saw stock brokers and retail workers sitting together talking about what they had just escaped – in the nick of time. I saw Hasidic Jewish men complete with the “peyot” hair helping the children of veiled Muslim women get safely to a seat. I’m sure there were a few Republican men buying drinks for women that were pro-choice…I can’t really confirm that – it’s so hard to tell these days, but I’m sure it was happening. I saw humanity, or at least my understanding of what humanity should be.

I waited for over four hours in line to get on the ferry. I met a wonderful human being that was in line behind me…he was a fresh bait salesman… he didn’t smell like he sold fresh bait, but he promised me that was his trade. He sold worms, cut squid, and ballyhoo (almost as fun to say as Sacagawea) he had a 7^th grade education, no money, no family, and a heart of gold. I also met a surly, judgmental ass, who was a corporate recruiter. He had the pedigree, money, power and prestige that we all think we want…what we dream of… he also had a heart as cold and careless as a crocodile. This confluence of people was one of my life’s greatest lessons… a wonderful blessing in an awful time. Because of the dichotomy of this day – the good things, and the horror that I saw, I will always ponder God’s plan. Even though I’m convinced that we can’t put it all together here on earth, I’ll never stop wondering, Why?

As I drove my car onto the ferry in 2001, I had no idea how I was going to pay for the trip. I had $15.00 in my wallet, and could get no more cash because all the ATM machines on Long Island were closed  (I guess for fear of hoarding). I had ¼ tank of gas in my car and all the gas stations were closed too… (Who knows why?) I had flown into Long Island’s Islip airport the day before – on business. I was rockin` a sweet 2001 Ford Taurus rental in business white, with under 8,000 miles on it. I followed the herd onto the ferry – THANK GOODNESS they took credit cards.

The bait guy had a really good day. He took a liking to me, and had empathy for my cash position so he bought a few beers in the cocktail lounge for both of us…his business transactions were primarily handled in cash – so it worked out.  Our bartender was so touched by my bait salesman’s generosity, that he bought us both a beer, walked from behind the bar and gave us a hug. Again…I saw a lot of kindness, a lot of humanity that day. The same bartender waited on me today, he remembered.

On the ferry that day, I met two women who would end up riding with me to Kansas City, where their families would meet them – coming from Arizona. It was great to have company, we all shared “best day” and “worst day” stories. I think the thing about that September journey that I will remember the most is that you can’t get in a pissing contest over discomfort or despair…we all have our crosses to bear, and we have all suffered pain, and triumph, and something in the middle.  Bad things pass, good things pass too, all we can do is do our best to make the most out of today.

Today was a reminder of that day…. that awful day that changed all of our lives. I’m happy to say that while I certainly haven’t forgotten the horror of that September day, what I mostly remember about my 1 hour and 15 minute trip across Long Island Sound  in the clear and cold of today, was the “kindness and humanity” that I saw on that day.

Today was a reminder that people are almost always at their very best, when things are at their very worst. That’s a good place to start.

Thanks for reading

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