Ramblings From The Rust Belt Part 2
My last submission was surprisingly well received. I had concerns that the Thai content of my missives was becoming minimal. However I received many notes of support from fellow Stickmanites and even the sainted Stick encouraged me to continue. In effect I have been given licence to carry on writing my usual nonsense irrespective of the Thailand content…although I do promise not to abuse this dispensation. The readers know I merely write to keep my brain going and fend off the inevitable senility.
I often hear the complaint that the readers' submissions are not as good as they used to be and many hark back to an alleged “golden age” of the site. I will acknowledge we have lost a few of the more prolific submitters of yesteryear but in my opinion I do not consider the overall quality of the contributions has diminished. In fact many of the newer contributors in the past two years have raised the standard a little and I have been entertained by the majority of the articles. There is certainly less controversy, heated arguments and personal abuse than we experienced in the golden years.
However, I notice Steve Rosse seems to attract his share of controversy. I don’t fully comprehend this as he is a gifted writer who is not afraid to experiment with ideas. I have a friend Peter who hates him with a vengeance I can not fully understand. He does occasionally push the envelope but I have never been able to find anything in his writing to take issue with never mind take offence.
I do however recall the days of Thailand Stories when he and that other pedant Dana would feel it incumbent to correct the grammar and spelling of every post I made. Although mildly irksome, it did not stop me purchasing a copy of his last book which I enjoyed.
I must admit I enjoyed that article and considered it a worthy contribution if a trifle excessive. I agreed with many of the points made but I could not understand why the author felt he had to attack Mr. Rosse quite so vehemently. I am acquainted with the philosophy of MGTOW (Men going their own way) courtesy of another Stick contributor, The Pretender. The concepts and ideas of this movement have much to commend them but its advocates do tend to overstate the message and slap their rationale on far too thickly for my taste.
I suspect the author had prepared his submission for some time and was just waiting for someone (anyone) to voice a pro-female opinion in order to launch his diatribe upon the Stickman congregation. I would like to believe there was no personal abuse intended.
Just as I had penned this defence of both writers to express their opinion, to my despair Steve Rosse posts a provocative comeback to his anonymous protagonist entitled “Mommy Dearest”.
This is certain to fan the flames of conflict and will prompt a series of acrimonious submissions. I decide this is the point to bale out and return to writing the nonsense my readers are used to.
All that being said, you can understand the frustrations of young men living in the western world in what my Canadian pal Don calls the “Great white northern sexual desert”. One can appreciate the attraction of reactionary philosophies like MGTOW as a response against the hypocrisy of feminism and misandry encountered. Many of their number consider it is now impossible to have meaningful relationships with modern womanhood so have walked away from any association with females. At its most extreme the movement advocates celibacy.
My own views could be described as mildly misogynist. Although the MGTOW philosophy is far too intense for my taste, I am tired of the mindless stupidity and sense of entitlement I witness amongst women on an almost daily basis. I saw one definition of a misogynist (attributed to Schopenhauer) as “a man who is not actively engaged in the worship of women”.
There is no doubt women constantly crave attention if not actual worship. Yet any man giving them attention who does not meet their unreasonable requirements is considered “creepy”. I am informed the criteria modern womanhood demand from men is the “three 6s”. This is 6ft tall, 6 pack abs and a 6-figure income.
On my own occasional forays into the online dating sites, I witness unbelievably unrealistic expectations. Now this is to be expected from young girls in their teens and twenties, they are in full bloom, their sexual value is at its highest and the world is their oyster. However to see similar expectations from women in their 50s really beggars belief. These women lost their bloom and hit the “wall” at least 20 years ago. You would think that experience would have modified their delusions in that time.
As one perceptive friend recently remarked, women want you to have-
1. Your own place (3 bedrooms)
2. A new car (with no payments)
3. Financial stability and be 6 ft tall, handsome with muscles.
What do these women have to offer?
1. A fat arse and another bloke’s kid.
One of the principle reasons I cannot advocate the idea that women are commendable and praiseworthy creatures is my experience on dating sites. I recently corresponded with one overblown and barely passable lady of my own age. She had the ubiquitous list of requirements she wanted in a man. Over a series of notes exchanged I was convinced I had addressed her tick boxes ….even my pet aversion to allowing her dogs to lay on her bed. Her final missive however declared, “I am sure you are everything you say you are but you are a little on the short side for me sorry.”
I thought I had become inured to this idiocy but was a tad miffed (which is Britspeak for being incandescent with rage). I am 5’6’’, slightly under average height but certainly not qualified to play one of Snow White's helpers on stage. Because I have become somewhat obsessive about this issue I did something I rarely do and sent her a caustic reply.
“I could not believe how shallow a person you are to consider height as your principle criteria. I am 3 inches taller than you so even with heels we would be the same height. But why is this so important to you anyway? If I did take you out no one is going to look at a fat arsed old trout. You are nearly 60 for god’s sake. If there were any 20 year old girls in the room you would be totally invisible to everyone there. You desperately need to divest your delusions or you will end up a lonely old biddy with only your smelly dogs for company.”
Needless to say I did not get a reply.
I am asked why I still persevere with these dating sites and my answer is to ask what the alternatives are? I have tried meeting women in pubs, clubs, libraries, concerts, animal welfare sanctuaries and supermarkets. I still have the desire to find a good-hearted lady to take care of me and share my life. I do acknowledge this is blind hope over experience.
Men are simple creatures and all we want is to get our knobs wet occasionally and a good meal on a regular basis. Women are far more complex and I am reconciled to the fact I will never understand them as long as I have a hole in my anal orifice. In simplistic terms, men are like toasters and women are like accordions.
Whether Thai or western, when you talk to women you can almost hear the cogs grinding in their brain….what can I get out of him? I am friends again with my ex Thai wife and several times she has asked me to live in Thailand with her. She declares undying affection and claims she wants us to grow old together. I remain sceptical as she is probably planning how to get me to fund her latest whim. I suspect it involves building a house near the prestigious St Thomas School in Udon Thani so her daughter can attend.
Even my first English wife has been making overtures of friendship using the pretext of our eldest son's impending marriage. I have no idea what her motives are. She recently become a widow so I fear the worst.
I am bored with being a nice guy and am in the friend zone with far too many women for my own good. I know women always ignore the nice guys and fall for a player or an asshole because they love the drama and excitement even if they are abused. Of course when they get their heart broken by the bad boy they have the nerve to ask, where have all the nice guys gone?
Finding a decent woman in the UK is like trying to sell a Gary Glitter tribute evening to an NGO convention.
Enough already with the opinion nonsense I hear you say and tell us what you have been up to since your last missive.
My youngest son and his girlfriend are still living with me. As a gentle hint I wrap their sandwiches in a road map each morning but to no avail.
I have had an eventful few months since my last report. The technical teaching gig is going well and I have enough work to keep my head above water. I currently have 30 students in four groups around the country and in four years I have already put 24 lads through the Diploma to gain a qualification extremely relevant to their vocation. The first group that graduated 3 years ago have doubled their salaries since qualifying. They are not going to change the world but are solid guys who will make a significant difference to the fortunes of the companies they work for and I am proud of them. The foundry industry remains vital to the UK economy. You are never more than 10 feet from a casting wherever you are.
I work freelance for the Institute of Cast Metal Engineers. Its previous existence was the Institute of British foundry men which was founded in 1905 and has received two Royal charters. I am proud to declare I have just been awarded the Casting industry’s highest award, the “Oliver Stubbs medal” for the dissemination of technical knowledge which is a great honour. The award ceremony will be in October at the Black Country museum. I have booked a table and for once intend to have an attractive woman on my arm so my pal Claire has agreed to accompany me. Although she is in her early 40s, she is still a real head turner…. imagine a slightly voluptuous cross between Nicole Kidman and Linda Kowalski then you get the picture.
I recently completed week 4 of the 8-week certificate project in Ashford. In my last note I mentioned a waitress who seemed interested in me. I arrived at the hotel to be informed she had left having found a toy boy 15 years her junior.
I had also been corresponding with a Thai lady girl in her early 50s I had met on the Thai Cupid site. Her profile said she lived near the hotel in Ashford. We had progressed to exchanging phone calls for a month. She sounded lovely but of more importance seemed very interested in me. We had arranged to meet for dinner and she asked me to phone her when I arrived at the hotel. On my arrival I dutifully phoned asking exactly where she lived so I could pick her up. Her reply Kingston upon Thames prompted a moment’s silence of disbelief as it was miles away on the other side of London. I quickly countered that her profile said she lived in Ashford and which she confirmed when we spoke on the phone a few times. My Thai lady explained “yes I did live in Ashford but got a new job and moved to Kingston two weeks ago”. Questions like why you didn’t mention it during our phone conversations I knew would be a waste of time.
You can take a girl out of Thailand but you can not take Thailand out of the girl.
All women are strange but Thai women do have a predisposition to hit the self-destruct button. I have often mentioned my Thai lady friend who owns a restaurant in a nearby town. She is in her late thirties and has been married to an English guy (her own age) for a few years. He is not the sharpest knife in the box but he has brought up his wife’s 14-year old Thai daughter and they have both worked hard to develop a thriving business. On a recent trip back to Thailand (eastern Issan) my friend met up with an old Thai boyfriend, shagged him and is now pregnant. This confirmed my view that Thai women never ever consider the consequences of their actions.
And they say it is men who think with their knobs instead of their brains.
I am still singing karaoke around several pubs and becoming a minor celebrity. At weekends one pal Mac travels around the area on buses until he sees my car on a car park as he knows there will something going on in that pub. He is quite a boring fellow and we have the same conversation every week. He informs us he has just been to Walsall and there is loads of fanny everywhere. My habitual reply is “the trouble is women have it all”. To compound the pointlessness of this routine most of the women he refers to actually look like Olive from “On The Buses”.
I have had a busy couple of weeks with my brother’s wedding last Saturday. The day went great and I made an entertaining speech as the metaphorical father of the groom. My brother is 55. It is his first marriage and after 20 years of prevarication he finally made an honest woman of his long suffering girlfriend.
It is with sadness I report my mother passed away last Sunday morning. In my last submission I reported that she had suffered a stroke back in February. I had been caring for her for some years and although her Alzheimer’s had accelerated she was coping well until the stroke which completely took all her faculties. She could not communicate and no longer recognised anyone. She spent her last weeks in a nursing home and passed peacefully in her sleep.
I had mentioned the NHS had instructed we put her in a specialised care home which was going to cost all her savings. However in the end she had deteriorated so quickly this was not necessary. I now have the unenviable task of arranging the funeral and sorting her effects.
I was very surprised at the amount of money my parents had saved in their lifetime. They were ordinary working class folk but had accrued a substantial figure. There is also their house which is a 3 bed semi detached with no mortgage on a very pleasant housing estate nearby. I share this inheritance with my brother. I still have some historical debts such as credit card liabilities from my first marriage, the times I was out of work and my failed experiment with bringing a Thai bride to the UK. I have worked hard to reduce this in the past few years but my share will completely clear them.
By the year end I may end up with the equivalent of a year’s salary in my bank account which will be a welcome buffer for when the hard times return. I may even move into my mother’s house and pay a rent to my brother.
I think life is about to change for me and it is quite scary.