Perhaps that's a bit crass. You don't have to hook up but as I said it's been called the 'hook up' App; their words not mine. Today Tinder has augmented itself. There is now 3inder the dating App for threesomes. Did I hear you exclaim, "oh dear!" Heavy sigh.
Allow this semi-humble blogger to use the commencement of this paragraph to say, 'Come On!' current generation do you guys work for anything? Anything at all? For the love of St. Peter do you Cats ever have it easy. Turn on phone, slide App voila: two bodacious babes are ringing your doorbell 12 minutes later.
|It's 3nder time!|
Ah, but it seems like only yesterday when I felt a rumbling in the loins for the gentle attention of the opposite sex but I had nothing. I had no game whatsoever. So I picked up some drum sticks because at the time girls (which we called chicks) were into rockstars. Become a rockstar-get the chicks-easy calculus. Being that I wasn't a natural I had to take lessons. Lesson after lesson in a time where a guy had to play the snare drum alone for 6 months before being permitted to play the whole drum set.
Then came the bands and countless rehearsals and band squabbles. Of course there were battle of the bands contests where ya won some and ya lost some. But we had a mission dammit- chicks! And do you think the ladies came flooding in like a Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue tide of babes? No-siree-Bub! Who knew that a scant 3 decades (or so) later a lad could turn of his phone, press play and 14 minutes later find himself knee deep in an innocent pillow fight with two slammin' chicks…that would ultimately digress into reckless debauch'?
When the drums failed to bear the fruit of gentle caresses of the prettier sex I put on the football helmet and strapped on the pads. Why not? Chicks like athletes right? I ground it out practice after practice, game upon game in Vancouver's hard driving rain. I hit and was hit countless times. And who could truly count the number of times when one is perpetually semi-concussed? We played on any given Sunday where we won some and lost many but it was ok because we had a goal.
Later you'd slide up next to a pretty lass and find a cleverly auspicious way to work the gridiron sport into your dialogue. She'd perk up at first only to burst your bubble moments later when she'd say, "Football is ok but I prefer soccer players!"
|Don't judge us|
We didn't have 'hook up' Apps in my day. We spent hard earned blue collar bucks in bars spitting worn-out dialog on disinterested babes.
But to be honest this rock n roll blogger wouldn't have had it any other way. I wouldn't trade my past for this generation's present. The pursuit of dames, broads and chicks led me to drums, football, soccer, jumping of high rocks into shallow bodies of water, horrible dialog, pathetic karaoke, track and field, muscle cars, hours of weight lifting (upper body only), heavy beer drinking (at times), light (albeit primarily involuntary) drug use, barrels of laughter and so much more.
|You guys got the App?|
I still play drums and love it, I still exercise and love it. I gained experience which helped form a little thing called character. When the chicks reject you or take little interest in your gig it's not the end of the world. Picking oneself up and dusting oneself off makes a grown-up out of you. BUT, the biggest payoff from the journey is where I am now…with a ridiculously beautiful wife, both inside and out. (And do you know what? I only need one!)