“Yeah, but wasn’t it more important that you go on the ride together?”
“Yeah,” Trevor said. “I can see that now.”
“So what happened?”
“We went into the singles line. I even let her go first. When I got off the ride, she was gone.”
“Well don’t get discouraged,” Dave said, trying to console him. “We all do stupid things sometimes.”
Trevor hung his head. “I seem to be meeting lots of girls, but it never works out. It’s depressing.”
“Maybe you’re not meeting the right kind of girls,” Dave said. “It’s important that the two of you be compatible. You know – the right kind of girl for you.”
“What do you mean?”
Dave thought of a recent advertisement he’d seen on TV. “You know – sort of like they do on those dating websites.”
“Ugh!” Trevor said. He didn’t want to tell his father that he’d already gone to one of those sites. “I’m not that desperate. People never tell the truth on those sites anyway.”
“You’re probably right,” Dave replied, “but maybe you shouldn’t just be going out with any girl you meet. It’s important that the two of you share the same interests, the same values, be about the same level of intelligence and education.”
“You mean like you and Mom?”
“Exactly,” Dave said.
“Uh…Dad. You and Mom hardly have any of the same interests. She sings in the choir and loves classical music. You’re into Blues and Rock-and-Roll. She goes to church every Sunday and you’re either watching football or playing golf. She thinks golf is a stupid game.”
Sheesh, the kid was right. Suddenly Dave started wondering how they’d stayed together for almost thirty years. “I didn’t say you have to be compatible in everything.”
“I usually just pick out the cutest girl,” Trevor said.
“That’s another thing,” Dave said. “The really cute girls have hundreds of guys asking them out. Maybe you should be approaching the girls that are more in your league of – um – attractiveness.”
Trevor looked hurt. “Are you saying I’m ugly?”
“No, no, definitely not. I’m just saying that the two of you should be at about the same level.”
Dave thought back to an old Jimmy Soul R&B tune and broke into song.
“If you want to be happy for the rest of your life,
Never make a pretty woman your wife.”
“I’m telling Mom.”
“Don’t you dare,” Dave quickly replied.
“Besides,” Trevor said. “That’s not true. In the looks department, on a scale of one to ten, you’re probably about a six…”
“Seven on a good day,” Dave interjected.
“And on the same scale,” Trevor continued, “Mom’s about a ninety-six.”
The kid was right. Dave had really won the lottery on that one.
“How did you manage to get Mom to go out with you in the first place anyway?”
Dave had never shared the story of how he’d met Susan. “It’s a long story, involving a stuck elevator and then, of course, there was the incident.”
“Incident?”
Oops, Dave had gone too far. “Look, I’m sworn to secrecy about that so let’s pretend I never said anything, okay? It’s important. Promise?”
“Okay, okay, I promise.”
* * *
Trevor approached the check-out counter with several items in his cart – a beard trimming kit and several different kinds of deodorant.
“Why are you buying a beard-trimming kit?” Amanda asked. “You don’t have a beard.”
“I know, but I’m planning to start one. I was reading where girls these days like guys who sport a bit of a stubble. You know – like the football and hockey players. I’m two days into it. What do you think so far?”
“I don’t see anything,” Amanda said.
Trevor turned his head to the side. “How about now?”
Amanda faked a swoon. “Ooh – manly!”
“Don’t be mean,” Trevor said.
“And what’s with all of this deodorant? You’ve got Old Spice, Calvin Klein, and Axe here. Are you planning to use them all?”
“No, of course not. I was going to give each one a try and see which one the girls liked best.”
Amanda shook her head. “They don’t work like they show on the TV commercials, you know.”
“Yeah, I know,” Trevor said. “Which one do you think suits me best?”
“I think you smell fine just the way you are. But if I had to pick one, I’d say you’re more of a Dove guy.”
“Dove? Isn’t that just for women?”
“They make stuff for men now too,” Amanda said, “especially for baby-faced guys like you.”
“But that’s part of the problem,” Trevor explained. “I want to look more masculine – more butch!”
Amanda tried to stifle a laugh. “Butch? I can’t see you ever looking butch.” She looked him in the eye. “And I don’t think you’ll attract more women trying to look that way.”
Lesson 5: Playing The Field
Trevor stood along the back wall of the large conference room at GM headquarters. Although the company Trevor worked for was just a supplier to GM, he’d been asked to attend their customer feedback session as an observer. He really had no idea what he was supposed to observe, but his boss had told him he had to attend.
As a design engineer, Trevor could design and build anything. All he needed were the written specifications of what you wanted the “thing” to do and he’d take it from there. He’d determine the best materials and processes to be used in manufacturing whatever “widget” was required.
But today’s meeting wasn’t with other engineers who communicated via specifications. He was there to observe how customers felt about something in the vehicle, in this case the buttons that controlled the door locks, the power windows and the side mirrors.
The room was filled with people from GM’s customer focus group, carefully selected to match the profiles of their customers: men, women, old, young, short, tall.
“This is a complete waste of time,” the nerdy looking fellow standing beside Trevor whispered. He was Trevor’s main contact inside GM.
Trevor nodded his agreement. They already had the results of the surveys the focus group had completed, all tabulated with statistical breakdowns. Why did they have to listen to the group verbalize their answers?
The group leader was asking various members of the group to elaborate on their written responses. Most just re-stated what they had written down on paper. Why had they rated something as a seven on the “ease of use” question rather than an eight, nine or ten?
Trevor focused in on the young woman who was now speaking. “I can’t explain it,” she said. “It just feels awkward when I try to adjust the side mirrors using this controller.” She practically squirmed when she gave her answer.
Trevor suddenly became aware of the body language each of the respondents used when explaining their answers. Some were nervous, some were bored, some gave their opinions almost as loud commands, while others were barely audible as they spoke.
It was weird. Trevor knew he was terrible at picking up the subtleties of communication when people were talking to him, but it all seemed so apparent when he was just observing and not participating. Maybe it was because when people – especially girls – were talking to him, his mind was racing ahead trying to figure out what he was going to say in response, rather than listening to what they were saying to him.
Maybe his father was right. He should slow down – listen – think – and then respond rather than just blurt something out.
* * *
A couple of weeks went by before Trevor and his father could get together again for their next lesson. They had to cancel one of their sessions when Susan came down with the flu and couldn’t attend her choir rehearsal. They were still trying to keep their father-son lessons a secret.
<
br /> Trevor was sporting a different look when he showed up that Saturday morning.
“Did you misplace your razor?” Dave asked.
“No, I’m trying something new,” Trevor said. “I noticed that girls seem to be attracted to guys with a bit of stubble. The girl interviewing Tom Brady on Sports-Centre was practically swooning because he had a four-day growth going on. I figured it might work for me.”
Trevor stroked his chin. “What do you think?”
Dave knew what Trevor wanted him to say, but his baby-faced complexion still predominated. “I’m sure it’ll fill in nicely once you hit puberty.”
Trevor smiled. “Thanks a lot, Dad.”
“There’s nothing wrong with the way you look,” Dave explained. “You shouldn’t try to be something you’re not.”
“That’s what Amanda said too,” Trevor said.
“Sorry, who’s Amanda?”
“She’s the checkout girl at the Mega-Shop,” Trevor reminded him. “For some reason, she seems interested in the girls I meet at the grocery store. She likes to tease me about it. She says watching me try to pick up girls is better than watching a sitcom on TV. When I meet a new girl, she signals me with a thumbs-up or thumbs-down sign as to whether she thinks they’re a good match for me.”
“Has this Amanda ever given you a thumbs-up for a girl?”
“Yeah, a few times. And they were nice girls, but sort of…boring. Maybe that’s the kind of girl I should settle for.”
“You shouldn’t be settling for anyone,” Dave said. “I’m sure the right girl for you is out there.”
“Amanda says I have to get to know a girl before I’ll know whether she’s a good match for me or not.”
“That sounds reasonable,” Dave said.
“So I’ve been out a lot over the last couple of weeks,” Trevor explained. “Playing the field, so to speak. I figure I’ve got to increase the number of women going into the top of the hopper – you know, sort of like speed dating – so I can filter them down to the real prospects.”
Dave hated the analogy. It sounded like he was harvesting wheat. “So how’s it working out?”
“Not so good,” Trevor said. “For one thing, some girls don’t want you to be seeing anyone else if you’re dating them, even on the very first date.”
“Yeah, that’s true,” Dave said. “They want to feel like they’re special, not just one of the pack.”
“But it’s weird,” Trevor said. “I’ve seen lots of girls interested in going out with Steve and they know he’s a player.”
Dave had to admit that he’d never really understood that either. “I think some girls are attracted to the bad boys with the false assumption that they’ll change their ways once they start going out with them. It usually doesn’t work out that way.”
“Did you go out with many girls before you met Mom?”
Dave thought back to his younger days. Although he’d pursued a lot of girls, he’d never really been that successful. “Not many,” he said. “I had a lot of friends who were girls and we’d go to concerts and parties and such – sometimes we’d just meet at a pub after work on a Friday night – but I probably only dated one or two girls before your mother. And I never dated more than one girl at the same time.”
“How did you get Mom to go out with you?”
“To be honest, I have no idea. I knew I liked her right from the start – we had some kind of connection – but I thought she was way out of my league. I just mustered up all my courage and asked her. I don’t think anyone was more surprised than I was when she said yes.”
“And when did you know she was the one?”
“The first time we kissed,” Dave said. “I was helping her decorate her Christmas tree when she just suddenly kissed me. I know it’s supposed to be the girl who goes all weak in the knees, but it was me in that case. She had me from that moment on.”
“I take it you don’t like the playing the field approach,” Trevor said.
“I think you have to do whatever works for you,” Dave said. “The truth is, all guys are just stumbling around in the dark with a flashlight hoping to shine a light on the right girl. Most times you just run into other guys with flashlights doing the same thing, but sometimes you get lucky. If I knew the secret formula to finding the right girl, I’d write a book about it. It would be a million seller because every guy would buy a copy. Unfortunately, there’s no such book.”
* * *
Later that afternoon, after his weekly lesson with Trevor, Dave headed out to the back yard. He studied the tree his wife affectionately called “Cupid”. There was no reasonable explanation as to how the tree continued to grow and flourish year after year.
Susan had suggested that he trim the tree back a little as the branches were now starting to block the pathway, but Dave was afraid to cut anything off in case he killed it. He headed to the garage and retrieved a huge piece of burlap. He carefully started at the bottom and slowly wrapped the burlap around the tree. When he reached the top, he was pleased to see that he had just enough material to protect the tree from the harsh winter. Next year, he’d have to invest in more material.
* * *
“Thanks for wrapping the tree,” Susan said as they were getting ready for bed that night. “I’m amazed the tree made it through another year.”
“Me too,” Dave said. He looked at his wife as if he hadn’t looked at her in years. “What made you agree to go out with me?” he asked.
Susan turned with a puzzled look on her face. “What? That was almost thirty years ago. Why would you ask me that now?”
“I don’t know,” Dave said. “I was just thinking about it today. You could have gone out with any guy you wanted. What made you agree to go out with me?”
Susan smiled. “I’m not sure. I didn’t think you’d ever talk to me again after our little incident in the elevator, so I was surprised when you asked me. But I knew I wanted to say yes.”
“Any regrets?”
“Of course not.” Susan studied his face. “You?”
“No,” Dave said, “but I was just thinking today about how everything worked out. We’re quite different – in so many ways – yet it still works. I have no idea why.”
“Maybe it’s because opposites attract,” Susan said.
“Maybe.”
“Or maybe it’s because the heart just wants what the heart wants,” Susan added. “There might not be a logical explanation.”
Susan headed into the bathroom to brush her teeth. Dave had just laid down on the bed when he heard the chirp of his cell phone indicating a new text message had arrived. He picked it up and saw the text was from Trevor.
“I was hoping we could cover a sensitive subject at our lesson next Saturday,” the text said.
Dave typed his answer. “Sure. I’m your father. We can talk about anything. What do you want to talk about?”
“Sex.”
Dave dropped the phone.
Lesson 6: Sex
Dave had to admit he was nervous waiting for Trevor to arrive the following Saturday morning. What did Trevor want to know about sex? What could he possibly tell him? Dave had always assumed (hoped?) he was pretty good in the bedroom, but he was hardly up on all of the latest moves and techniques. He’d even gone out and picked up a few books on the subject hoping he could just pass them on to Trevor and be done with it. That would save both of them the embarrassment.
One was titled “How to Get it On”. That sounded young and hip. He’d also ordered the Kama Sutra through Amazon, not the original Indian textbook, but the one with illustrations. Unfortunately, Susan opened the package when the courier delivered it and thought it meant that he was looking for new ways to spice up their own sex life. He couldn’t tell her it was actually for Trevor, so he went along with his wife’s assumptions.
He’d learned one thing. Don’t just look at the illustrations and give it a try without reading the accompanying text. Dave had no idea how he was going to e
xplain how he hurt his back to his chiropractor.
Dave had both books waiting on the kitchen table when Trevor arrived that morning.
“What are these for?” Trevor asked when he saw them.
“You said you were looking for some advice about sex.”
“Relax, Dad. I know all about the how. Mom told me when I was ten. She even had books with cartoon diagrams. Sheesh, it was embarrassing. I don’t think I could look you or Mom in the eye for a month after she told me.”
“So what is it you want to know?” Dave asked.
“How do you know when a woman is ready – you know – ready to take the next step? Steve says a guy should be going for it on the first date, and every date after that.”
“I wouldn’t be taking any advice from Steve if I were you.”
“Yeah, I know. But how – how is a guy supposed to know when she is – um – interested?”
“She’ll give you signs,” Dave said.
“What kind of signs?” Trevor asked. “Apparently, I never got the playbook. If a woman is sending me signals, I’m just as likely to think she wants me to lay down a bunt or steal second base.”
Dave wondered how his son could have missed the basic training on the subject. He’d gone out with his old girlfriend for years before she dumped him. “What kind of signals did Jessica send you?”
“I have no idea. From what my friends tell me now, they all knew that Jessica only wanted to be friends with me – nothing more. She would say things like ‘let’s take it slow’ – so I thought, okay, I’ll be patient with her.”
“That one’s a hard one to read,” Dave said. “For some women, it really does mean they want you to slow down, not necessarily stop.”
“Jessica would also say she didn’t want to ruin our friendship.”
Women 101: A Father's Humorous Guide To His Son Page 4
