Wednesday, December 15, 2004

Re: THE LIZ FACTOR or "The Juice"

One of my numerous theories, perhaps to be someday published in a Dave Barry-type book, is that we each have varied levels of a substance called "The Juice," human pherimones, if you will.

I say this because I've noticed a patent lack in the quantity/quality of mine, and a whopping Exxon Valdez-sized load just oooooooooooooooozing from others. Allow me to cite a noteworthy example from the now infamous ex-fiancee's apartment (Courtside)

INT. APARTMENT. NIGHT... A studly, dark-eyed fellow named Colby (the name just burns w/ male soap-opera hubba-hubba) on a fateful evening stopped by to say "Hello." Since things were ever up-and-down w/ this would-have-been-lover, I was not yet sure as to what kind of feelings she had for me. I was either trying to play it cool or thinking that, romantically "All was Well in Zion." At any rate, Mr. Beefcake didn't even cross the threshold, and all eyes were fixed on his masculine frame. Not one female eye in the room dared dart away for a second, lest they miss perhaps some mischievous flicker of a grin, an involuntary flex of a bicep, or other assorted evidences of a Tom Cruise swagger.

I remained, of course, perplexed by the power this newfound personal idol had on these college gals: typically aloof, studious, serious, etc. but now beyond hope of self-mastery. My own love-interest lingered at the door, drinking-lounge-style draped over the door like how a butcher hangs meat in the window. She was clearly advertising.

At this point, I could feel the disparity between my male "umph" and this hunk's estimable potency. As he bid them good-bye, all four girls' eyes pierced sheet rock, wood and paint and followed this virile figure with a hormonal radar as he passed through the outer door and down the few stairs leading in front of their window. Naturally, I had to clear the way so each of them could pry open the blinds and giggle at his "wiggle" as he walked away.

I was amazed. I felt like the pup in the old---was it MGM?---cartoon where the biggger dog is circled by an excitable pup, eager to be apprentice to an apparent master of "doghood." Clearly I needed schooling... or scrubbing? He was well-groomed.

Alas, such as it was, I entered it into my lengthy list of humorous anecdotes and there it remains... proof positive that some guys got it, some guys don't.

5 comments:

  1. You mean pheromones, dont ya? :p
    In my opinion, we all have the same levels of "the juice". Only, some tend to be more overt than others. In the same way, some of the opposite sex prefer the overt ones, and others prefer the not-so-overt ones. And the two categories can never merge. You might be longing this really hot chick oozing sexuality...but would you really be happy with her? Similarly, a juicy guy just wouldnt think on the same wavelength as a non-juicy girl. And the twain shall ne'er meet. Bottom line, being juicy isnt the only route to happiness.

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  2. Well said, Sabi. And I like the way you told that story, Taylor; I remember you mentioning it in conversation with me a few times. Here's the thing... It's not about whether or not you've "got it." It's about whether or not you click with another person, which is usually obvious soon after meeting them. Guys tend to be better at sensing that early on and stopping it before someone gets hurt. Anyways, I think it's more a matter of your "juice" matching or mixing with another person's "juice," rather than the amount of it. However, I do feel your pain in that I've known plenty of girls who have some kind of flirtatious power that I will never understand, and seem to get whichever guy they want. But things are never what they seem.

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  3. Bah. Naysayers and detractors all. Where are my yes men??

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  4. I feel like an intruder on this post. But that's okay, right? And just so you know, I wouldn't be comfortable with a guy who oozes juice. Or even "juice." Huh. I just realized, maybe that's my problem. And I still don't know how much I believe that I have the LIZ FACTOR. Even though it's named for me. Insecurities are great, aren't they? Now a question: how does one flirt? Because I don't think I know how to do it, and I should probably learn.

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  5. You, of all people, should not be taught how to flirt. It would be the romantic equivalent of pouring rocket fuel on a bonfire.

    I'd say that if you could just channel those magnetic smiles and sterling wits toward your target in moderate to "warm" increments, signals galore would be registered.

    But then, I'm never targeted in these situations. Girls don't need to ask how to flirt w/ me... and maybe that's MY problem.

    I guess when a girl shows an interest in me, what I like, how I feel about numerous things, it's much better than the rank-and-file fluttering of the eyelashes. So just call up, come around, coo... do what you gotta do to make the intrigue a tad more obvious.

    Of course, I cannot fathom why I'm giving tips. I'm the freakin' 27 year-old single male alongside another two in our lil' congregation... I should be visiting psychics by now---whatever happened to the Jamaican gal "call me fah yah free readin'!"

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