'Never confuse activity for achievement.' ~ John Wooden.
Kinda like, 'Never confuse brains with a bull market'.
Lessons well learned but plenty fucking tough for me to live with. My big mouth has always been overactive without a filter between it and my brain. In the army my hyper active mouth earned me weeks of KP and the dislike of every non-com and officer that was unfortunate enough to be in charge of me.
Staying out of the guard house was a major accomplishment of mine during that laughter called my army career.
My big mouth was the source of the start of many weird, fucking, unique experiences that made my life 'different'. Inviting a gal, a stranger, to London as my guest seemed natural to me. The invitation rolled out of my mouth like water over a dam, unfiltered.
Sharon was her name. I met her on a flight to Midland, Texas having been summoned from London by my oil and gas patroon in Midland, Deane Stoltz.. Sharon was on her way to Albuquerque on some kind of fashion business.
Remember please, that a man thinks with his eyes and I was always inclined, at the first look-see, to look at a woman starting at her waist up. A habit that got me in a lot of trouble over the years but that didn't stop me from being 'boob addicted'.
While I had never, in my life, seen Sharon before the flight, I felt just sitting next to her for two hours gave me the necessary insight to know that she was perfect for me. Bright, good looking with big boobs gave Sharon the aura, for me, of a perfect soul mate. Couldn't beat that image with a stick and she acted as though she liked sex. So, I invited Sharon to London as my guest.(Turned out that if Sharon liked sober or drunk sex, it was with someone else.)
A few weeks later, on a first class flight from New York, with a guarantee of her own paid for room at Claridge's, in came Sharon who I welcomed at Heathrow with a car and driver. Very big time showing off.
Sharon immediately proved herself to be a sincere pain in the ass. While I worked all day, Sharon was a dedicated wine drinker who loved to smoke dope as well all day. I did neither. All I wanted was good company and some sex. It quickly became very fucking boring with Sharon being half stiff all the time and my schlong inactive. Having sex with a woman, three sheets to the wind had all the appeal for me of a sore ass in vinegar.
It was not very fucking complicated. I was getting neither sane conversation or sex. So, after two days of that action I sat Sharon's sorry ass down in my suite and said, "Sharon, your meter has expired. Your time is up and it is time for you to go home."
At the end of the day I felt pretty fucking stupid for having invited her but smart for sending her home - cut my losses short.
Looking for the unexpected has always been a driver for me. Too often the unexpected was pretty fucking expensive and always as a result of shooting from the hip with my big fucking mouth.
"Regrets? I've had a few but too few to mention." ~ My Way, Sinatra
2 comments:
Look at the good side. At least you cut bait :)
I would have married her
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