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Apr. 30, 2006 The parking lot of the Augusta Mall was crowded Saturday evening and I drove around in my white Toyota Corolla, unable to find a handicapped parking space for my wife who has been wheelchair bound for ten years. I finally settled for a space behind a pickup with a Confederate flag on the back window and a "proud to be a redneck" sticker on the bumper. I got out of my car and rolled my wife across the parking lot; the occasion--the fourteenth anniversary of our first date. By the front door was an attractive light skinned black woman wearing skin tight jeans and high heel flip flops. "Look, it's mating season," I told my wife. The woman's gluteus maximus was sticking out, ripe as a the finest peach in the orchard. We smiled when she opened the door for us. We went to the food court and ate falafel and gyros. I stuck my finger in a cup of tahini, placed it in my mouth, and drooled over a big breasted blonde, her short cutoff jeans not hiding her jiggling rump. She ordered pizza and another voluptuous young woman noticed me checking out the merchandise and gave me a welcoming eye. I'm happily married, always faithful, but at least I can still look. My wife even says I can view the menu--I just can't order. I remember what it was like to be twenty years younger and single. In college I had a psychology professor who said that a man randomly asking strange women for dates in a public setting would get an affirmative answer once in twenty tries. I decided to test that ratio one day in 1990. I went to the mall, got drunk, and ordered pizza. I proceeded to ask completely strange women, if they would like a date with me. One sexy blonde with a scar on her lip (women with cleft palates are hot) was flattered but thought it weird that I was asking her out in front of her mother. My attitude at the time was the more the merrier. She was engaged--a stumbling block I couldn't overcome. I never did reach twenty that day, but I ran into my boss who acted like he didn't want to be seen with a crocked coworker in the process of coming on to strange women. I made up for that lack of effort at work. I bugged women coworkers for dates, until they got together and wrote a personal ad to get rid of me. My future wife was the sole response to that ad. We met at a Mexican restaurant and married less than two years later. I no longer have the need to test my psychology professor's statistical theory, but you single men out there should give it a shot and tell me how you do. Fertile woman are waiting for you. It's mating season in malls all across America. Good luck! Maybe you won't get nineteen rejections before you strike gold. ------------ About the author Mark Gelbart: My book, Talk Radio, is a black comedy about a radio talk show host who gets kidnapped and psychologically tortured by a loser. www.mark-gelbart.com Email: agelbart@aol.com Comment on this article here! ------------ All articles are EXCLUSIVE to Useless-Knowledge.com and are not allowed to be posted on other websites. ARTICLE THIEVES WILL BE PROSECUTED! |
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