He’s not as sex-obsessed as he makes himself out to be in his blog posts. In his mind, he might be making love to his latest female commenter, but in reality he mostly wants to talk about life, love, and make silly jokes with her. OK, maybe with some feeling her up as they talk, just for fun. He likes breasts a lot. But, truth be told, he is probably more emotional and sentimental, and fearful, about intimacy than most women. He worries that he talks too much. He worries that talking too much is too girl-like.
He finds Sophia hot. He thinks she likes him, too. It’s too bad they drive each other crazy. It is a strange marriage. Sophia is much sexier than he is. Sophia understands make-up sex. He doesn’t understand make-up sex. After an argument, he pouts for days with his arms crossed. His relationship with Sophia is complex. It is frustrating — in many ways.
Twice in his life, before he was married, he had a naked woman who he hardly knew come into his bed uninvited, one drunk, one a roommate’s ex — and both times, despite their advances, he just talked with them. He is more comfortable talking. Or writing.
Is that why none of you see him as dark, mysterious, and dangerous, despite his clear intentions to portray himself as that? He’d like to be thought of as dark, mysterious, and dangerous, the type of man who has passionate trysts in dark alleys, the woman pressed against the wall, her legs tightly wrapped his waist. But he would probably worry too much about the garbage in the alley. Or rats. He likes comfortable beds with nice sheets. Maybe it is a Jewish thing.
Sophia is still asleep in bed. He likes to watch her when she sleeps.
Wendy, one of his favorite blogging-friends, is coming to town this week and they are seeing “Wicked” together — alone, sans spouses. He is excited to meet her, but also a little disappointed. One day, he’d like a blogger to be too afraid of meeting him, thinking him too dark, mysterious, and dangerous. That’s how he feels when he meets YOU.
He likes to use the word f**k on his blog. One day, he will be able to write the word without astericks. Or make love in some exotic locale, like an airplane or the roof of a Manhattan apartment building, or a dark alley, like they do in the movies.
Despite the humor of it all, his talking Penis is important to him. Without his talkng Penis prodding him, tormenting him, he would spend his life just writing and talking. Let me change that. He would have NOTHING to write or talk about. Or he would be so polite and agreeable, you would want to vomit.
This is all off the record, of course. Please go back to thinking him as a Hebrew Don Juan.
The Hebrew Don Juan huh? I can try.
i think we often want to be what we are not and are not truly sexy until we embrace what we truly are. you can’t fake sexy- that comes from inside! so what am i saying? embrace who you are because THAT is what makes you sexy. there is nothing wrong with a man who wants to lie in bed and talk (as long as he puts out from time to time). and those dark alleyway trysts? not all they are cracked up to be. most of the time it smells like pee or dumpsters there.
not that i would know about that.
cough.
THIS is top secret?
Somebody hasn’t been digging hard enough.
Oh, and I agree that alleyway trysts are exciting, but grotty and leave one with a sesne of needing ot wash, and fast. Best to stick with the back seat of a car, or a nice hotel room.
Why can’t someday ever be today?
The Real Neil Revealed?
Um, you mean that wasn’t you in the alley? Uh oh.
I’ll be afraid of you, if you want me to. Can I still have a hug even if I am afraid of you?
It’s not that I want you to be afraid of me, Shelli. I want you to swoon from the dangerous temptation, as if I am the Phantom of the Opera.
it’s never what we would consider our most attractive aspect that works best for us, I think… it’s the thing that makes us most ourselves, which is most likely the thing we never notice anymore. When I’m acting tough, I’m just acting; but when I am myself, the whole world wants a piece of me. Hm, that suggests that I have not been myself much lately…
i make it a habit to stay away from sexy/mysterious guys. they usually break your heart and date your best friend.
Hebrew Don Juan? HAHAHAHAHA! You got it, Neil.
If it’s any consolation, I was a little nervous sitting next to you when you showed up at the Lucky Strike. You actually DO have an air of danger about you, and I worried that if the waitress brought you the wrong food, or if somebody looked at you the wrong way, that you’d erupt with a violent outburst and start shooting people.
Do you feel better now? 🙂
Hmm. You know what? I think you need a dark and exotic accent… Something sexy like spanish, or italian… Do you think you could write with a spanish accent at all?
This post really reminds me of a country song I heard today “I’m so much cooler online”.
Wow I’ve lived in the South too long.
I like how you said “astericks,” hahahahaha.
I think I would like you in real life! You really ARE a neurotic New Yorker! Come on home!
Don’t worry..I’ll make you feel dangerous.. in a married, hands on the table way….
Take it as a compliment, Neil. Not many a man, would I meet sight unseen. Never been on a blind date in my life.
Oh, God, who doesn’t like breasts? It’s a wonder I ever leave the house with these luscious things staring at me in the mirror in the morning!
Oh, and you will love, love, love Wicked. I know I told you that you would love Mama Mia, but don’t hold it against me. I’m right this time, I promise. I’m not a musical theatre cock tease. Musical theatre I take very seriously.
I think your astericks are cute.
He’s so brave to write this. His originality on this blog amazes me. How does he manage to sneak so much seriousness into his silliness? His sense of comic timing is impeccable, and he manages to keep a consistent voice through all these different formats. What a writer. I’ve never been with a writer–how is that possible? And he’s got that hairy chest. Hmmmm….
‘member how Billy came with me to meet you? HE found you dark and mysterious…
Or Captain Jack Sparrow? Or Kid Rock?
Look, you tried. I personally never believed it for a minute and couldn’t believe you could hold onto it for so long.
Well, I still have my life ahead of me. There must be some dark alley somewhere with my name on it — maybe in a nice, clean city like Vancouver.