Chicks do not dig me. This is a fact. I am not an attractive man --not hideous, but sort of average, nondescript. I've always gotten by with my brain and occasionally my cooking skills --at least with women. On the other hand, old men with easy, lecherous smiles and tufts of gray hair sprouting from their ears like cotton candy think I am the bomb.
This is less of a comfort than you might imagine.
This morning at the gym, one of my fans stopped me as I was trying to find Mastodon on my iPod. I thought I'd need something slightly aggressive to get through my leg work out. He put his hand on my shoulder, squeezed slightly then said, "You know, I was thinking about what sort of book I should bring you."
I looked up, smiled blandly and hoped he'd move his clammy paw from my shoulder, but there it stayed while he reminded me about a conversation we'd had weeks ago about my writing and what sort of things I should be writing about.
"I was going to bring you that book." Which I'd forgotten about. "But then I started reading this book about prostate health."
As our conversation turned undeniably weird, he explained how the book was basically a condemnation of how the medical establishment treats prostate ailments, particularly prostate cancer.
"Doctors just want to cut and cut," he said sourly and I shook my head in agreement.
Yep. Prostate Cancer sucks.
He said, "At your age, your prostate is probably something you should be thinking about."
And up until he mentioned it, I'd only given it a passing thought and mostly that was --ick, I hope I don't get prostate cancer. After that, I probably did something else, like made a sandwich, worked a word search puzzle or checked my local listings to see if there was an episode of "Quantum Leap" on somewhere.
The old guy gave my shoulder another friendly squeeze then released. "I got mine book at the library, but I ordered a copy online. Once it gets here, I'll bring it for you."
"Thanks," I said and really, it was kind of sweet.
No one has ever specifically worried about the condition of my prostate before. None of the women I've ever been involved with has ever said anything to suggest my prostate was important to them in any way.
Some of this is my own fault. I don't usually inspire that kind of interest. I don't suppose my prostate has ever been considered dynamic or attractive. It's always been something easy to ignore.
Certainly, no one has ever been drawn to me because of my prostate. Occasionally, I've been told I have nice eyes and that's about the extent of it. No one has ever said, "You have an amazing prostate. I could get lost in your prostate."
So, in this one little way, that creepy old guy loves me more than anyone else ever has. I'm not just a pretty face.