I must tread carefully here for fear of hurting feelings (and you know who you are), but it might well be worthwhile, sooner rather than later, to clarify my initial observations on advice and, more specifically, on what advice I might offer my son (the subtext being that if I ever felt inclined to bullshit anyone, my son, or sons if I had more than one, which I don't, would be the last to suffer that fate. Put another way, I am more inclined to tell him the truth than not.
I wrote that once I had heard the advice that it is best not to spend too much on a woman until you know her a little better and feel that, perhaps, she might be the one on whom it is worthwhile lavishing your pitiful riches. Saying so aroused howls of anguish from certain quarters who felt that if a man, presumably however much of a stranger he is, did not choose to lavish on them all the riches known to man and then some, he was merely some unfortunate cheapskate on whom wasting a glance was far too handsome a thing to do.
Well, forgive me for taking the opposite point of view and for stating, I hope clearly and categorically, that the advice I quoted is not only good and true, but essential if a man of a certain kind of character is to be spared — as much as these things are possible from the admittedly very restricted perspective of ht altar — from a life of misery.
Advice: if what first arouses a woman is the size of your wallet and, in the first instance, the initial proof you can give thereof, run for the hills. And if she still shows interest, keep running until she runs out of puff and casts around for another victim.
Call me a romantic old cunt, but these things are important.
I am now, a man approaching the cynical age of 60, prepared to admit two things:
1) that 'love' is, quite possibly, not the most reliable guide to the possible longetivity of a heterosexual relationship. To illuminate that, let me quote — or possibly misquote — John Barrymore: love, he said is the delightful interval between meeting a beautiful girl and discovering that she looks like a haddock.
2) when the game of love essentially boils down to preserving the financial viability of a moneyed dynasty for whom the essential task is to preserve and possibly bolster that viability when it encounters another moneyed dynasty, love must, of course, take a back seat. There can be no question. However, most of us will, for better or worse, never face such a dilemma.
So finally it comes down to the ordinary Joes such as myself meeting the ordinary Josephines and deciding whether they want to pay for sex or whether they are prepared to play a longer game.
Call me cynical or, if you are too tender for real life, don't, but that is how the cookie crumbles, whether or not you grew up in the civilised West or not.
Note to all men: If the girl of your dreams is somewhat disappointed that on the first date you are not fully prepared to flirt with Chapter 11 in order to make sure she has a reasonably good time, find another girl of your dreams. And thus spoke the Lord.