Talking to Grown Women Is Torturous If You Actually Want To Have Sex/Marry Them Post 09

 I am rock 'n roll, this band is rock 'n roll, I am not this band but often thought bad company when manically challenged

Talking to Grown Women Is Torturous If You Actually 

Want To Have Sex/or Marry Them

Just because I decided to take my vows as a monk, and even for some years prior to that I maintained celibacy, it was always a practical decision with a purpose. Not because I couldn’t find women who would love me that way, or because I didn’t very much want to have sex nearly every day of my life; but I wanted to know and in turn express everything that I could learn, and that I and cared to learn. It was an inexplicable dive that I felt, for maybe all of my life; and when Gretchen turned me on to Buddhism I absorbed it gratefully, not because it consumed me, although I was well prepared to master the Heart Sutra, and then all other Sutras I studied. Most useful to my life was the label ‘Buddhist Monk.’ Although that term described truly only an aspect of my practice, at least by claiming it, people could have some handle on me and my crazy life’s behavior . Surely even if I meet no one’s idea of a Buddhist monk, my actions have left the persons I have served by listening, mentoring, teaching and all other functions I have taken on in another's others behalf, they were unconcerned of my credentials.

I will not tell you here that the things I have been privileged to learn and do in my life are better than sex, the truth of that is inexplicable, but I cannot deny I enjoy a woman’s company, and I will always try to have her attention. Talking, flirting with a woman as a monk is quite a different proposition from, well, propositioning a woman. Even with the handicaps I set for myself in my manner of dress and my so often unrestrained behavior. The power I derive from my free life of service attracts the eye of every woman; and they plainly see I am under no one’s thumb, and this stirs all sorts of conjecture in many of them. Above all if they see me at all, they see I am a kind man and fun, so if I approach and chat, many fall in sway in the moment. That dissipates quickly on my departure however, as if I am an illusion. For decades this was by design, only excepting the younger women, who in comprehending my claim of celibacy, set out to test me on that point, to learn if I was to be trusted. I was never once tempted to break my vow, still I confess, I was vitally interested in each her vagina. So often I awoke to see one presented as my morning greeting, and this was a great Solis to this old monk then and even still in memory. I am still a human animal.

I always counted each of these women as a gift that the Spirit sent to me to encourage me on, and to prop up my self-esteem when little else in my practice did so. Always when my suffering becomes great  a beautiful girl turns up to lift my spirits. Flowers I reckoned not to be plucked, or perhaps I make them so myself against their own desire. Only in attempting to turnaround have I even thought of this angle, perhaps I am beginning to alter my thought process in this respect? Take Tuesday, the day was a roller coaster that I won’t recount in detail here, except to say that arriving at Dharma study I was feeling very sad. I talked with my good friend Mayumi about my suffering and she listened and gave me kind and wise support. Going inside I saw a new young beauty come to check our class. We introduced  ourselves and I welcomed her and sat beside her. We bantered back and forth until class began. She is lively and intelligent, funny and quite knowledgeable about our Sutra subject; and we seemed to go well past the yes/know, I was dizzy, maybe I even got the apple, but when class was over everyone else loved her too, and while I was helping clean up I saw her slip out. I went after and called out to her at her car, and she gave me a saucy reply coming back to me. We talked briefly and I managed to give her my card before others came out to surround us. I had offered another friend a ride home and she was waiting as others waited their turn to talk with New Beauty, so I kissed her lightly and we left her surrounded, her back pressed against the wall.  Perhaps she is not fleeting gift sent to me by the Spirit, but she feels that way tonight because once again I did not ask for her telephone cypher.

I am a human being, I fuck-up every day (Comic Book Shaman's Credo).

 
This version is blatantly exploitative of these young women it's true, but they don't seem too mind much?  
   Hey I admit to liking it even though I famously can't seem to understand what David Coverdale is getting at here...