Catching the Human Female's Attention: A childood memory Jun 9, 2019 4:26:58 GMT -5
Post by Radrook Admin on Jun 9, 2019 4:26:58 GMT -5
Catching the Human Female's Attention: A childood memory
I was recently watching a documentary about all the elaborate antics that the frantic male animals go through in order to attract the attention of the usually indifferent female. How the rhino has to run approx forty-five miles chasing the female in order to prove he is fit.
How some birds must build nests decorated with blue items as the female inspects each one before accepting the winner as her mate. How male mountain goats must ram their heads together risking injury and death just to get the privilege of mating while the females indifferently graze nearby. It suddenly dawned on me that we human males aren't that different and that the female fits right in with the aloof attitude that other female, non-human animals display.
After all, it is quite obvious that healthy heterosexual males have this intense, almost instinctive need to impress the female of the human species by whatever means possible. It makes us act foolish sometimes. We might attempt to make silly jokes just to get her to smile or better yet, to laugh. Might want to prove that we are the best among the other males that are present by some athletic feat that the other fellow can’t repeat. Or impress by winning some debate or other contest. It doesn’t really make too much of a difference, that the attractive female is impressed is all that matters..
Unfortunately for the heterosexual male of the human species, such frantic antics can lead to physical danger. A bully might be challenged and there go the teeth. A climb might be attempted and broken bones, or worse yet, life. The possibilities for a disaster are limitless as are the human females who inspire us into them.
Which brings me to my camping trip to North Lake NY. You see, as a burgeoning adolescent hetero male, I was no different. I dreamed deliriously of someday having one of those feminine beauties all to myself. Drooled at their delicate, voluptuous thighs and followed their curves as they passed by. I envied those who held their hands or even more-those who actually were far more intimate. Imagined that wondrous day when I too would share that unbelievable privilege. So what occurred at the North Lake camping Site that summer at age twelve was perhaps inevitable.
You see, we had gone fishing and noticed a beach nearby. As we rowed the boat nearer to get a better look, we also noticed that there were young females in bikinis soaking up the sun and delicately frolicking in the water. So back at the campsite my cousin George and I hurriedly donned our swimming trunks and like birds following a homing beacon, headed in that direction.
Only one girl was there when we arrived, a girl in a bikini and she immediately caught our eye. She wore sunglasses and her smooth white, skin gleamed with suntan lotion. We both stared as if we had encountered a goddess.
Unfortunately, she seemed completely oblivious to our presence. As if we totally didn’t exist or if we did, we were of very little importance in her personal universe. Actually, such indifference should have mattered more to my cousin George since he was three years older than me and she was within his age-range. But for some reason, it irked me, a thirteen-year old the most. I mean, I just had to impress her in some way. The question was how. Obviously my musculature, or at least the musculature I imagined I had at that age, didn’t impress her. With George it was understandable, I assumed since he was a veritable skeleton. But for me? The future Lou Ferrigno? For me I expected at least a glance. But how was the question. The solution soon revealed itself as if in answer to a fervent prayer.
As we walked humbly past her, I noticed an embankment leading to some ink-black water nearby. The perfect opportunity to impress this beauty.
“Say George, why don’t we take a swim there?” I pointed to the ominous-looking surface.
“Nahh!” he said, “I rather swim over there with everyone else.”
“I’m going to do it. I’m going to swim across it and come back. You wait here!” I said loud enough for her to hear me just to make sure she would be looking.
“You sure? That water looks pretty deep!”
“No problem!” I said even louder. Then I deftly I removed my sandals, flipped them confidently aside, and began strutting toward this curious two-foot-high chain-linked fenced which I believed was there for decorative purposes only. After all, why would it be so ridiculously low if it wasn’t decorative? So I hopped over it confidently, then rooster-strutted toward the rock slabbed embankment’s edge.
For a few moments I had serious doubts. The water was looking increasingly hostile, and I wasn’t sure that I wanted to swim directly above all that mysterious darkness. I began to wonder why the water was so black there while the rest of the lake appeared a placid blue. The question seemed to assume more importance the nearer I got. I felt like turning back, but if I did, then what would the girl think? So despite my growing concern, I forced myself on. Then it happened. As I took one step on the embankment my footing gave way and I momentarily became airborne. Then after landing flat on my back with a bone-rattling thud against the rock slats, I began rapidly sliding toward the edge of the black water below.
To me it seemed as if the water had been conscious of my approach, was ravenously hungry, wanted to swallow me, couldn’t wait, and had tripped me. Brief images of the film “Creature From the Black” Lagoon flitted though my adolescent brain and I panicked. Then my horror, my legs were suddenly submerged and I couldn’t see my feet.
Why couldn’t I see my feet if they were just a few feet away? Where were my feet? What kind of freakish water was this anyhow? I began frantically thrashing my legs to get some traction and get myself up to higher ground. But slime made traction almost impossible.
So I flipped myself over on my belly to use my arms. I had great confidence in my weight-lifting arms. But the embankment stones were covered with some kind of slimy organic material. Organic? Slimy? Images I’d seen in the film The Blob, where this organic thing that resembled some kind of giant slimy amoeba who engulfed its victims whole and slowly digested them, came to my mind.
Once that particularly poignant image hit me, all bets and all attempts at elegant dignity under duress were off. The girl was watching? To hell with the girl! She’d think me incompetent? Well, that was better than falling into the waiting maw of whatever was lurking just a few feet away in that water. I really felt like shouting for help, but the need to maintain some shred of dignity in the female’s presence prevented it. Instead I began furiously thrashing about like a fish out of water, hoping that God would be merciful enough to grant me a grip on one of those rocks.
I’d go up a few feet via sheer desperate willpower, but then I’d slide back down into the water again as if pulled by some supernatural magnet. In all honesty, had I thought that using my front teeth would have helped at that moment, then I would have employed them by latching on to some twig or other vegetation in order to gain more leverage. But the rocks were bare and using my teeth would have only served to grind them down. The furious struggle continued for what to me seemed an agonizing eternity when finally, one of my hands caught hold of an un-slimed rock to my far right and I was able to pull myself up.
At that point, of course, cousin George appeared above me on some boulder and offered his hand with a slight grin on his Jerry Lewis look-alike face. Impression I got was that he’d been enjoying the whole thing. That suspicion was confirmed when after a dramatic silence, he burst out laughing. Then to add insult to injury, he began imitating my struggle while the female in the bikini, who had been watching the whole disaster, struggled not to laugh as well. He rolled on the sand pounding it with his fists as he did so while guffawing. Then, as I turn to look back, I noticed a sign which read: Slippery Rocks! No Swimming Allowed!” and wondered how the hell I could have been so blind as not to have seen it. But, yep. I had caught the female’s attention alright. But not quite in the way I had planned.