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How To Get Me Naked
If it's not probable, it's at least possible to go from shaking a woman's hand to helping her undress that night. Everyone knows the scale tippers: send over champagne. Flash your Bentley keys. Be famous. But that approach can come off cheap. There are alternatives.
For example, by tapping into certain jackpots of emotional energy, you can create your own voodoo. A sense of mortality, of the transience of life, is handy. On New Year's, sparklers spitting, tuxedos shining, sequins winking, what are we celebrating? The passage of this life, the fact that we can't slow it down. What do we do when the clock hits 12? Kiss the stranger next to us. Channel New Year's any night of the year.
Armageddon, too, is an aphrodisiac. My blackout fantasy: Mr Neighbor Who Moved In Yesterday, a bottle of wine and a spaghetti dinner by the violet light of the gas stove, one thing leading to another in the shadowy dark. I have rarely felt such sexual tension as during a hurricane in Puerto Rico, adults camping in the hotel bar, candles flickering, free rum being passed around, wind lashing the windows. Everyone is more beautiful in the rain.
You can invoke abstract innocence or hedonism. Suggest skinny-dipping. Why not go to a drive-in movie and make out in your car? Incite us to feel like teenagers again, and we might behave like teenagers.
Sometimes, though, there is no swimming hole, no storm, no sequins. Just you and a woman whose name you still can't pronounce. Let her know that you have a measure of soul. Ladies often want to be seduced, but we don't want to see a fool in the bathroom mirror at dawn. As we get older, despite instincts to keep our guards up, we know the good stuff happens when guards come down. We'll take ours down if you take yours down. Women can detect juvenile intentions. Give us something older, wiser, better. Give us some heart.
I met a man at a whisky pub. He was old-fashioned handsome and wore his hat backward. He put money in the jukebox, let me pick the songs. He sang along, he laughed, he asked me about my life, he looked me in the eye, he told me about his life, he tousled my hair, he teased me. He was there in spirit as well as in body. Last call, and we left hand in hand.
There is a library of tricks for getting girls naked. You could spin us dizzy with them - and exhaust yourself. Or you could simply be present and honest, brave and real.
I bet I sound like your misty-eyed mom when she straightened the lapels of your matric dance suit and said, 'Just be yourself.' But all women can't be wrong about something so important.
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