Just a Nice Lady Cigar Smoker

Honesty, when it comes to online dating, is probably not the best policy if the point is quantity of respondents. As for unusual persons who not only appreciate honesty but don’t seek or expect to find a cookie-cutter archetype to paste in their curio cabinets, they don’t tend to remain single for long.

Whereas in person I tend to get plenty of attention, I’ve learned the hard way that such intrepid souls are likely to be terrified and sent running for the hills once they figure out how I’m wired. Those who aren’t are generally operating under media-fueled misconceptions as to what is a “submissive,” and what is a “masochist,” etc., and thereby have me pigeon-holed before I can complete my sentence.

Whereas, in the past, when I was, of course, younger, I never remained single for long myself. Soon after becoming part of a couple, and otherwise parading each other in front of our friends, the questions would start coming: “So, how did you guys meet?”

I have no idea. We didn’t go to a bar, because those places are loaded with train wrecks and alcoholics. We didn’t go to a BDSM club, because those places are like a pit of vipers into which sad sacks are sacrificed and entrants are advised to give up all hope upon entry. We certainly didn’t meet on a personal ad because the actual name of the forum will cause confusion and misconception.

In other words, actually meeting is like finding a restaurant gem. On one hand, in order to keep the place in business, a little “word of mouth” is advisable, but, not so much that the place becomes overrun with poseurs.

Authenticity is a rare and precious thing however during a worldwide economic recession, such a thing is probably too much trouble. Best to just find a standard paper doll. They don’t take up a lot of room and no one will shame you for your choices.

I think that perhaps I need to either employ a matchmaker, give up my cigars, or live on a different world in a different time. On the optimistic front however, soon the snowbirds will start to arrive and at least there will be new blood in the cigar lounges. I can hardly wait.

5 thoughts on “Just a Nice Lady Cigar Smoker

  1. Pingback: Just a Nice Lady Cigar Smoker | Manosphere.com

  2. Cigar lounge lizard…now why didn’t I think of that?

    I loved your astute observations on “authenticity.” “…too much trouble..” How about a trouble magnet?

    An almost mystical power, an ‘authentist’ must be extremely careful when exposing it in public. There’s a physical, mental, spiritual and vocal projection that stirs deep fear in liars and unrequited hope in the honest. Both outcomes can be troublesome.

    What to do? I wish I knew. Lately, I’ve been dressing myself in all black and announcing myself with: “Hello, I’m Johnny Cash.”

    • Oh, Baby, have you got my number and you do indeed sound like a kindred spirit.

      Fortunately, I am a mistress of disguises. Even my facial features appear to change. I know how to blend in.

      By the way, I do a pretty nifty jazz rendition of “Queen of the Road,” which, if I had the least in the way of audio-videography skills, I’d post it. For now, my audiences for my shtick have been small but it’s a small crowd pleaser. Very small, very pleasing, at least as far as the reaction that rings my own chimes.

      You make me wish I had tarried in my recent passage through DE. I bet we could make beautiful music together. Come down to Southwest Florida and share a cigar with me sometime, Stranger.

  3. I am a kindred spirit. Words are tools, weapons and mirrors for those that know how to use them.

    “…blend in…” I do a great potted plant. Stealth is my friend and constant companion.

    I walk the line, one piece at a time, riding the Orange Blossom Special to a fever down in Jackson. In high school I was a singing and dancing star in plays, and part time Doo-Wop guy in Lloyd’s garage. By the way, it was my policy to never carry home a school book.

    “…wish I had tarried…” Just a few exits south of I-95 on Del-1. Don’t feel bad, I could fill a dumpster with missed opportunities and unfortunate choices. Like that TV game show, the hint was in the clue. Of course, you know that now.

    I’ll double down on your beautiful music wager. I tried Florida for two years in the late 1980’s. Bought a house real cheap on Sarasota Bay, near Stickney Point Road, from an estate where the heirs were a little too anxious to buy a cabin cruiser. Completely renovated it and sold it to become one of the few that left Florida with a lot more money than I brought. Didn’t like the heat or the culture.

    You already know I’m a smoker, cigarettes, cigars or what have you. Tomorrow always comes.

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