Part 3 of 3
by WildMan aka, George Palczynski
“I can’t get NO… sat-is-fac-tion.
To a man, it’s a song. To a woman, it’s… a good deal more. It’s a trope the world over. For women, it’s not a learned inclination. It’s congenital. It is essential yin. A woman’s general satisfaction had never come from a placebo. She can’t be talked or tricked into being satisfied.
Fact And Fancy
This is a cold fact. Men, dissatisfied, make no effort to fix the source of their dissatisfaction. Men merely, simply, digitally, restore the balance. If 0, then add 1; if dissatisfaction, add satisfaction. All nature is balance. It’s called ‘equipoise’. It’s powerful and it works. It may be the preeminent calculation to durable human sanity. Women are not without it; they resort to it. Dissatisfied with X, they’ll open a tub of ice cream, or go shopping for shoes. See! It works… alas… not to their complete satisfaction.
Why then are women so persistent in fixing that which dissatisfies them? Because women will not rest until ‘it’ is …BETTER. Cavil at it all you want, but it’s in their make up, and there’s not a damn thing that can be done about it.
When I was a young man, a nice young woman asked for help rearranging the furnishings in her apartment. Apparently, she was… dissatisfied. As this had been part of my skill set by which I managed to pay off my bar tabs and stay stocked with Lucky Strikes – I agreed.
She was a feathery girl, light of heart and spirit. She could not crash through life, nor would she plow through it. It, life, was not a jungle for her to clear a path through with a machete. She, Carol was her name, did not flutter through it like a butterfly, she floated and glided – that’s how feathers ‘roll’ – they float.
You can have your bits and pieces as you like them but I’ll have them as they are… as long as they are packaged in a sweet, sweet disposition. Carol was so ‘at home’ within that sweet disposition that I’m not sure which had been made for the other. Had that disposition been made for Carol, or, Carol for that disposition?
A Lesson, A Class, A Seminar, A Tutorial
She deliberated upon each move of an assembled component piece. This was my resting time. I put it to good use, observing her – body language, facial reactions, voice – tone, pitch, and rhythm. This was not purposeful. She merely, naturally, caught my attention, my interest… and curiosity also. It was probably the signal life lesson on woman ever given me. She caught me smiling at her taking earnest consideration of the most recent composition. “What are you laughing about?” Said I, “I wasn’t laughing, I was smiling.” Said she: “Well, it looked like you were holding back a laugh.”
I moved this there, that here. Gave her props. She moved stuff along with me. We’d… she’d finally got it. She redlined ‘satisfied’. But wait! “Could you move your end back a couple of inches”, she said, of the sofa. Sure, I hadn’t said, just moved it. There. I’d almost asked if dinner was ready. She’d promised a meal in return for muscle. It was crockpot stew. The aroma was wafting for some time.
“Now just a quarter inch forward” came the words wrapped in that sweet voice. I swear it, with the saints and angels in heaven my witness… she said, “Now just a quarter inch forward”. …I’d laughed hard in my young lifetime, but I’d never been poleaxed by funny before. The laughing… it hurt. “You’re laughing again”. I nodded – I couldn’t talk. I was near on my knees on the floor, sputtering/wheezing with laughter. I’d hurt nothing moving all that furniture. I was certain I’d strained a couple intercostals laughing. Was she miffed? Damned if I could tell – couldn’t see through the tears.
She could do nothing but wait. Eventually, I’d settled. She did ask once, “What’s so funny?” I broke out again, waving off any possibility of an explanation.
Happiest dinner I ever had – smiling, grinning, chuckling and eating. She asked, several times, (CURIOSITY!), what was so funny. Having finally got control of myself I told her… “it was ‘a quarter inch'”.
“A quarter inch?”
“Yes, a quarter inch”
“How’s ‘a quarter inch’ funny?”
” It made me laugh”.
“But IT’S NOT FUNNY”
“It is if it makes you laugh”
Spent, I laughed, weakly. She shrugged, nodding disbelievingly. I was, to her, at that moment, an alien, so far removed from female/woman that she could make of me nothing more than ‘weird’.
A quarter of an inch is a big deal to a woman; and it’s never funny. That can’t be said of ANY other of GOD’s creatures. That’s the bottom line as to what will finally satisfy women everywhere… the last ‘quarter inch’ more… or less… maybe.
Atonement and Over Compensating
A woman’s curiosity and desire had got us into trouble but her amends got us from the cave to the penthouse. Women have earnestly set upon restoring the paradise that had been lost by them, whether they will cop to it or not. Not a one of them may admit it – ‘at’s okay – at some point you just have to let go of ‘it’.
Women will work ceaselessly to make things better, better men, children, homes, gardens, meals – better, always, everything, better. It’s not for nothing that women have themselves a reputation for being difficult to satisfy. They are on a mission.
Not The End
‘Better’ is without limit there where perfection is not known to exist.
– George Palczynski
“Insofar as something retains mystery, it commands interest.”
– George Palczynski
A man is never so assured of his manhood as when a woman insists he is weird.
– George Palczynski
Vive la difference
And THAT’s the Happy Ending