It's a Girl - My Lord! - In a Flatbed Ford

Now I don't want to draw too much from this, but do the lyrics of this Eagles song make you a little nostalgic?

The dude's running away - possibly doing the fadeout - on seven women;

Well, I'm running down the road
Tryin' to loosen my load
I've got seven women on my mind
Four that wanna own me
Two that wanna stone me
One says she's a friend of mine

With one aim in mind,  he's;

Lookin' for a lover
Who won't blow my cover
She's so hard to find...

Which is where we meet the girl in Winslow driving the flatbed Ford. The way she can save him is to seize the moment for some uncommitted random fucking.

Come on, baby
Don't say maybe
I gotta know if your sweet love
Is gonna save me

We may lose and we may win
Though we will never be here again
So open up, I'm climbin' in
And take it easy

Subtle use of the "climbin' in" metaphor.

It's reflective of a misguided instinct: the way to leave one (or seven) women is to take up with someone fresh - close all the doors of the past by opening a new one. Yeah, that never works.

The vanity here is telling, although I'm sneakily smiling at the complete absence of any sexual political posturing. This tune represents the apogee of the Californian/hippy/baby-boom/free love/whatever feels good/just do it age perfectly, as well as (arguably) the apogee of money-making from having a good time.

Lucky bastards.



Bottoms Up, and do whatever feels good.



Take It Easy lyrics © Jackson Browne/Swallow Turn Music/Night Kitchen Music/Open Window Music.

Little Black Book

Before hookups, sexting and booty calls, the discreet man with an argument in his trousers turned to a simple piece of hardware known as the Little Black Book.

The Little Black Book is terrifically James Bond in the Sean Connery-as-James Bond way. Other Connery-style Bond icons are unprotected sex, unemotional one-night stands, rampant chest hair, sexually aggressive women double-agents, martinis, champagne, neckties and Walther PPKs.

Sigh. They were the days.

We're all clear that the LBB contained the phone numbers of one's sexual partners aren't we - past, present, prospective and possible lovers? That was the point, the ability to contact women who might be up for a little slap and tickle at short notice.

The other reason to keep a LBB was to find a possible date for a buddy. The unrecognized value of keeping the details of exes is not just that they might be interested in a fling for old times' sake, but that you know their track record. Mates look after mates in many ways.

Of course, the Law of Unexpected Consequences applies here too. When comparing LBBs, finding that you have one (or more) of the same names as your buddy raises questions best left unanswered.


Bottoms Up, 007s!




LBB from here [link]

Friends With Benefits

Her: I thought you wanted to be my boyfriend?

Wombat: I do.

Her: When?

Wombat: Not right now.


Expectations kill relationships. They're the rocks that wreck super-tankers and sailing boats alike. No relationship is safe from them, and no chart shows them all. GPS works perfectly most of the time, but without knowledge of where not to go, metre-accuracy will only tell you precisely where you ran aground.

The ocean called "Friends With Benefits" is one with an unusually jagged coastline. As enticing as the concept appears, I fear most of us compartmentalize the 'friends' and the 'benefits' as if they can be. Like a watercolour Venn Diagram in the rain, those two can only bleed into each other with potentially messy results. Art is rarely the outcome.

Doc30ty highlights my point in her post. [link] Her male FWB half clearly didn't include exclusivity in his mental image of FWB. His thinking was more Benefits with a Friend, dare I say an expectation at variance with that of our beloved Doc30ty.

There are three ways to find a FWB relationship:

Friends first -> add benefits.

Simultaneous creation of friendship including benefits.

Beneficiaries first -> add friendship.

Is one way better than another? That's not for me to decide. What experience tells me is that my expectations will differ from my lady friend's, and the problem with that is that we both think there won't be any complications arising therefrom.

This is the temptation of the FWB deal: the simplicity of it appeals mightily, but it's impossible for any of us to not expect stuff beyond the raw acronym. We set sail in light winds and smooth seas but wake that night to the sound of crashing waves on gnarly rocks.



Bottoms Up, Landlubbers!



Diagram from here [link]

Edited for tense and incorrect plurals, as well as overuse of 'variance' - the usual thesaurus of Wombat idiocies.