THE ROMANTIC MAN
I was never a ladies’ man. I dated when I was young, and I’ve been married three times, but I was never a ladies’ man. Some guys just have a way that charms the ladies. They can be the bad boys, they can be inappropriate, they can be obnoxious, but they somehow have the looks and the twinkle in the eye that lets them get away with bad behavior and still the ladies are interested.
I have known many such guys. I was never that guy; until I became “The Romantic Man.” (Pronounced Romon’tic Mon.)
“The Romantic Man” was a character, a persona I would occasionally adopt at parties. I’m not sure where this character came from, I think maybe “Saturday Night Live” though I have not seen him on any reruns. “Romantic Man” was overly flirtatious. He had a Ricardo Montalban accent. He was inappropriate. He was harmless. The ladies loved “Romantic Man.”
At a party, after a few cocktails, I would be approached by a lady.
“Hi Joe, how are you?”
“Not Joe, I am… ‘Romon’tic Mon’; and you know, I find you to be very beautiful.”
“Oh thank you Romantic Man.”
“You know, if you don’t mind me saying so, please do not take the offence, but you know your ass, it is very beautiful; very how you say…sexy. You and I, we could make the music beautiful no?”
“Oh Romantic Man, but I am married so it could never be.”
“Pity, but if you were ever to leave this man of yours, remember always, the ‘Romon’tic Mon’.”
It was always all in good fun, everyone knew the Romantic Man was
I learned that this was the “Players” secret. Lay it on thick, but act harmless. It gives a woman the chance to laugh you off with no hurt feelings no insulting indignation and still have her ego massaged; or she can flirt right back, still in a joking mode. Of course, the trick is to behave not with the “Romon’tic Mon” persona, but with a little of the “Romon’tic Mon” attitude.
Even with this new insight, I could never become a ladies’ man; it was and is not really in me. I did have fun as the “Romon’tic Mon.” Why you ask am I using the past tense? The “Romon’tic Mon” is no more. He was destroyed by vicious lady who called him out on his bluff.
“Come ‘Romon’tic Mon’, come with me upstairs, I will show you my beautiful ass.”
“Oy vey, ah…er… well, I don’t know, oy I’m fashugana!”
“Romon’tic Mon” became “Little Old Yiddisha Man” flustered and scared.”
“Romon’tic Mon” was destroyed; “Romon’tic Mon” is dead.
You know who you are….. Julia DiGi.