Yeah, I stopped with the masks thing a long time ago, right around the time I decided that all women I was attracted to were going to make pretty much the same pleasant noises and do the same pleasant things to me if they liked me enough.
Since I'd actually managed to figure out ways to make a few of them like me enough, it was a foregone conclusion that the next logical step was to make sure that they really did LIKE ME.
The next logical step was to make sure that one really GREAT woman LOVED ME.
That's when it began to become much more difficult than just luring a woman into my bed or finagling my way into hers.
And that whole thing with the masks turned out to be the big obstacle.
So okay, it turns out that women wear their masks, too. I found that out with my first marriage.
My first wife was pretty terrific, at first. She was stunningly beautiful, I really mean it, the kind that can actually cause traffic accidents beautiful. She was brilliant, she was funny as Hell, she smelled delightful, she could do things any man would really appreciate in bed.
She was even just a wee bit "famous" as a sort of "Hollywood starlet" in a manner of speaking.
And, as it turns out, she wore her mask for a record period of time, about three years.
She had an enormous amount of baggage from her previous marriage, to a very abusive husband, who was a Hollywood producer and screenwriter.
And when her mask finally came off, the psychosis was laid bare.
When I got together with the woman I should have married in the first place, she'd already known me for about fifteen years prior to us becoming an item. Her sister married my brother.
So she knew all about me and my particular idiosyncrasies. She knew all about me.
And vice versa.
All that stuff, it's the good stuff, when it's the right woman.
The more I learn about my wife the more I love her, even all the weird stuff behind the mask, because my wife doesn't wear her mask. We only put on our masks when we go out into the world.
She gets me, I get her.
