Returning from a reunion forty years after our group’s efforts, my wife–who had not been involved–asked if I’d noted all the women who wanted to talk with me and so forth. No. Compared to the guys? Oh, yeah, guess so.

“That’s because,’ she said, “no matter what we say [little hit at the feminism there] we depend on our male colleagues to protect us.”

Couldn’t have done what we did without heart–or in my case lack of imagination–which was civil rights work in MS. But the campus left and combat-sport jocks didn’t mesh very often so there was them and there was…me. Whatever else was going on, I was–I found out later–pretty popular while south of the Ohio River.

My sister in law, who is very wise, except in politics, let it slip that I too am oblivious. She’s a good egg all in all.

Some years back, thinking about writing fiction, I set about to update my half-century old knowledge of mating rituals. I looked at PUA, feminist advice columns, other advice columns, nice-guy debates, Taken In Hand, and many others. Figured I’d write about life insurance.

Everybody’s got an opinion. And there’s no accounting for taste.

Ten, maybe twelve years ago ,a number of things coalesced. “Figured it out later” should be on my tombstone. Due to coincidence, some communications which didn’t have to happen, and the resulting framework on which to hang other issues which I’d considered one-offs, it appeared that the point at which I had been in greatest demand–not that I had a clue–was when I was a socially awkward twenty-two year old with massive, shiny braces. And it wasn’t me, myself, and I. It was that….the uterus says when things are tough, don’t worry about the really good guy. Look for Aubrey. Afterwards, there’s the really good guy. Glad I’d been oblivious. Might have wanted to take somebody up on whatever it was.
I was into ev psych before it was a thing.

You’re rather literal-minded at times.

You wrote:

The man is dismayed at what he does not have, not envious of what the other man has.

You were generalizing about men, not limiting your description to the exalted class of men with which you happen to hang out.

In introduction to reading comprehension, you and om will acquire skills which will allow you to interpret undemanding four paragraph statements correctly. The point of the post was not to comment on ‘all things masculine’, but to present to the moderatrix an alternative model of how men react to the appearance of others and how they evaluate their own appearance and what some of the motors to that evaluation are. Both Mr. DNW and myself suggest to the moderatrix that she’s misinterpreted something, though we present different (but not contradictory) theses.

I cannot understand some thing that seems to believe that men do not have a suspicion of other men who are too good looking;

I hang out with a better class of people than you do.

Some guys can’t get a date to save their lives. Of those who could, it appeared that our fine-favored frater had the same girl troubles the rest of us had but with better looking women.

Neo saved me from myself earlier, so I will offer only the most tentative and provisional opinion for the consideration of the commenters.

But, before anyone decides to take Mephistopheles up on a life swap bargain, it would be wise to begin your due diligence by following Om’s link to the Las Vegas performance of the brothers Gibb: there, to look carefully at the one sensitively and angelically warbling away, while taking note of the date. The Anno Domini, that is: i.e., 1997. That would reveal the singer to be about 46. Reflect on that.

Robin, all 5’8″ of him, joined his fraternal twin Maurice in the shining pate department by the early 90’s in all probability, and had been hooked on amphetamines for much of his adult life according to reports. A life which extended only to age 62; though, he outlived his brother Mo by almost a decade. Brother, Maurice, had apparently been an alcoholic for decades, though sober the last ten years of his life.

On the positive side they both left estates with values arcing toward 100 million.

So when it comes to answering the question, “would you like to be like them?” it is important to inquire back, “In what regards, and to what extent?”

I would suggest that if you have no trouble pulling chicks on your own and are in the good health department, you settle for a consolation and duty free settlement of 10 to 20 million.

Had a fraternity brother had a retail gig going which required his photo as “agent” to be in the campus paper weekly. That was before everybody had his own phone. We were busy answering for him and we usually said he was reading to the blind or something.
He was athletic, winning the intramural high jump with a freaking SCISSORS.
And just a hint of the upper class southern accent.
Some guys can’t get a date to save their lives. Of those who could, it appeared that our fine-favored frater had the same girl troubles the rest of us had but with better looking women.

Also, not necessary to be so harsh on somebody’s opinion. Makes one wonder…..