Mommy’s out knocking the dust off.

I attract certain women lately, not because they’re sexually attracted to me; perhaps they see me as a coach of sorts. It happened again last night.

“Hey, Coach.”

“What’s up, Kiddo?”

“I’ve been out of the game a while–getting a bit rusty on the bench over here.”

“Ready to take a shot?”

“I think so. I’ve been sidelined for twelve years with a man I’ve grown to dislike and a four-year-old who’s draining me.”

“All right. Take a lap around the pub and limber up.”

Coaches aren’t allowed to mix it up with players. Sad. I accept my role and hope she drinks enough to forget hers. When she returns, I ask important questions to see if she’s ready.

“Have you been practicing?”

“I got digits from a twenty-five-year old last night.”

“You say ‘digits’ again and I’ll have you scrubbing latrines.”


“Did you say twenty-five? That’s about a ten-year difference, no?”

“I know. He was cute. He walked me out to my car.”

“Did you seal the deal?”

“He went in for the kiss, and I blocked so I could ask him a question.”

“Let me guess: ‘Did you wash your hands and clean your nails, young man?'”

“No. I asked if he remembered my name.”


“Yep. He forgot.”

“But, you kissed him anyway.”

“Well …”

“Fucking rookies. All right, look, you want to play the game awhile and stay off the bench, right? Don’t be so concerned about triviality like names, living situations, and investment strategies. If you’re going after high-haired baby apes, take them as they are, get your box stuffed, and move on.”

Here’s where all the buts come out because she hasn’t built up her emotional callus:

  • But, I have a child to consider.
  • But, what about disease?
  • But, what if I like him?
  • But, I’m a good girl.
  • But, it goes against my beliefs.
  • But, it grosses me out when I see older women with young guys.
  • But, what if my ex-husband finds out.
  • But, I just want to make out with him and not have sex.
  • But, how do I know if he just wants me for a one-night stand.
  • But, I have another ten pounds to lose before I’ll feel sexy.

I noticed her drink was empty, so I offered to help her along with a non-banned substance: vodka.

“Let me buy you a drink.”

“No, I can buy my own.”

“Suit yourself. Who’s your next target, champ?”

“I like that boy over there. He reminds me of Brad Pitt in his Legends of the Fall days.”



“Brad fucking Pitt? Really?”

“I could make it work.”

“You should reconsider the drink because you have set highly unrealistic expectations.”

“Aw, that’s sad.”

“Fine. Go poke Brad, and see how that works out.”

“I will.”

Naturally, she boldly approached him, realized he smelled of seaweed, Red Bull, and Axe Body Spray, and returned to Coach Phil with her tail tucked and un-fucked. I lost my patience and left the arena, to shower, sleep, and live to coach another dame.


Enhance Me or Leave Me

No, I’m not seeking duck lips or melon boobs. If you’re currently single, don’t you find it interesting that as you age you limit entrance into your life to people who enhance it? The more self-sufficient you become, the less tolerant you become. I’m not speaking exclusively about sex. I doubt I’ll live to see masturbatory equipment make the other gender obsolete. It’s more about spending significant time with another person.

When we were children, we had little choice. We can’t select our siblings, neighbors, and classmates so we cope. Once we leave school, we begin to have options but the peer and familial pressures shove us down the aisle.

We go through the big wedding, nesting, reproducing, and straying. Once we hit our forties we begin to wonder what’s left. Some of us take the brave and expensive route of reentering the mating pool with what some people will call damage and baggage. Pity. My experience taught me well. I’m not damaged. I’m just fine.

Then, a new strategy arises: We’re no longer out to find soul mates; we’re casually seeking people who make us happier. We’ve learned that more than one person is qualified for the position, so we don’t race back down the aisle again. We enjoy the rides and step off once things get complicated. Expiration is approaching so there’s no time to force together pieces that don’t fit.

I’m sure some people (married ones) see this as a dysfunction. It’s promiscuity, perhaps. Still, I don’t desire casual sex; I desire pleasurable sex with minimal aftertaste. I’m confident that one woman at a time can deliver those goods, but I won’t find her without hunting.

For example, say you left your husband today. (If it is easier, assume he left you.) You’re single and free. Cast away all of the financial nonsense and parental guilt that will keep you tied to an unhealthy relationship. You’re single, financially secure, the nest is empty, and your hormones are still flowing. What will you do?

I’ll tell you.

At first, you’ll timidly stick a toe in the mating pool. It’s chilly. You’ll consider going back to what you know (sucks). You’ll stick another toe in. It’s the post-marital Hokey-Pokey, if you will. You’ll have good sex with bad men and bad sex with good men. You’ll be frustrated and consider going back again. You won’t. You’ll gain confidence that you can find good sex with a good man. You finally find it and hang on. Then it sours.

Suddenly, you’re approaching fifty and you realize you don’t need your sentences finished for you. You’ve arranged your nest the way you like it and it doesn’t need more birds. You’ve found your happiness and you’re not about to trade it for penetration. Mr. Next is going to have to enhance your life significantly or he’ll remain with his competition on the fringes.

When you’ve reached this point–whether pets are involved or not–you’ve become the most attractive person you’ll ever be. Isn’t that ironic?

Therapy with Me

Boy, would I shake things up if I were to open a couples therapy service. I probably should do it because I find myself giving free advice too often. Rarely are both members present in my free sessions. It’s usually a man complaining that the wife isn’t as frisky as she once was or a woman complaining that the man isn’t as romantic as he once was. It’s so textbook.

Wife: “He used to say nice things to me and compliment my clothes and body. Now, he just wants to see the receipts.”
Husband: “She used to enjoy morning sex, now she sprints to the kitchen when she sees my morning wood.”
Doc Phil: “Tell her she’s lovely, lube up and let your husband bang you, and that will be fifty dollars. Next!”

Wife: “He works long hours and is barely home five minutes before he’s off to the gym. We don’t talk anymore and rarely see each other.”
Husband: “I have to hold down two jobs just to afford her Louis Vuitton habit.”
Doc Phil: “You go shopping with her, you go to the gym with him, and Daddy needs a new pair of shoes. Will that be cash or check? Next!”

Wife: “He has become totally desensitized because he stares at online porn most of the day.”
Husband: “At least I can still get it up. Do you realize how many men my age need little blue help?”
Doc Phil: “Time for some role-playing. Ma’am, please rotate the phrases, ‘I love your cock,’ ‘Yes, that’s it. Fuck me, Baby,’ and ‘Oh my god you make me so wet.’ Dude, before clicking over to Wank-o-pedia, ask the wife if she’d mind lending a hand. Next!”

Wife: “He’s always going away to work conferences and golfing trips. It seems like he’s never home.”
Husband: “She sits home all day watching reality TV shows, which I try to convince her are far from real.”
Doc Phil: “You’re bringing your wife on alternate outings from now on. You’re grounded without TV for one month. Go buy some books. Next!”

Wife: “I think the passion has left our marriage. Sex is bland and I can’t remember the last time I had an orgasm.”
Husband: “She just lies there. I don’t think she’s attracted to me anymore.”
Doc Phil: “Go together to an adult store and buy a vibrator. Show him how to use it on you and, in return, how’s about an occasional blowjob for the big fella?”

I don’t know if I have the patience for that job. The best solution is usually to hasten the inevitable and split up before things get uglier. Nobody wants to pay for that advice. They want to pay to save a relationship that’s most likely run its course. It’s not impossible to resurrect the passion that fizzled, but it may not be worth all the time and money. Still, numerous coaches and therapists will gladly take your money in exchange for words of encouragement. When all else fails, the flow of funds will be diverted to another crook: Attorney Phil.