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In a Perfect World

By: Dinsmore



I had no idea where this was going when I started it this morning. It's not erotic fiction and there really isn't even a story, although there just might be a point, even though it rambles a bit. It is at times tongue-in-cheek but the reader needs to decide when I'm 'pulling your chain' and when I'm being serious. From a male perspective, I guess the title, "In A Perfect World" is appropriate, although I'm not really sure what category it fits in. I went with 'Humor and Satire'.

For the women that choose to read it, an important caveat: at the end of the day, no matter how many baubles and flowers he gives you, no matter how much he tells you he loves your mother, no matter how many times he cooks you dinner or does the laundry, no matter how often he treats you to a romantic evening and no matter how many times he tells you that you are his 'best friend'---it's all bullshit. If he wanted a best friend---it'd be a guy. He wants to get laid; that's all he ever has wanted and ever will want. It's been that way for thousands of years. Stop reading women's magazines and just accept it. He just wants to fuck you.

I've never really understood the typical male fascination with a woman's breasts. Personally, I've always found overly large breasts somewhat unattractive; implants border on disgusting. I dated a young woman once for a few months with large, natural breasts. I did enjoy fucking them on occasion, particularly when she lifted her head so that my stiff cock just penetrated her full lips on each stroke. She loved to eat cum and giggled when I shot a load on her face---and she became intensely aroused from having her tits fucked.

I once asked a shrink about my lack of obsession with tits. He fired back a simple question: were you breast or bottle fed? Breast, I replied, for a full year. That's the answer, then, he said. You got all the titty sucking you needed as an infant. Men who were bottle-fed tend to grow up with a breast obsession.

Okay, I asked, then why am I absolutely obsessed with a woman's ass? Latent homosexual tendencies?

Hardly, he observed. In nature, females of many species 'present' to a potential mate by showing their rear. In fact, it's not their ass per se they are displaying, it's their blood engorged labia and vulva---a clear biological indication that they are fertile and ready to conceive. Other mammals do it from the rear---every farm kid knows that. The human body was built to do it exactly that way. Our historical need to separate ourselves from the animal kingdom---among other things, such as religion---brought about the fashion of missionary sex, which is in fact quite unnatural. 

Anthropological study of primitive human cultures indicates a typical pattern. The fertile female displays or presents her posterior to the male. The additional blood flow of the hormonally aroused female causes the labia to puff out, exposing the entrance to the vagina. The male takes this as an invitation to penetrate her with his cock---and that's exactly what it is, an invitation, albeit a biologically stimulated one. The male approaches; they touch, fondle---what have you. All of this activity is simply intended to confirm for both of them that copulation is desired while further stimulating the biological factors which make it more feasible.

Anyone who had ever ended up with a bruised pubic bone from rigorous face-to-face sex knows that 'doggie style' is far more comfortable. It also allows for deeper penetration which results in the sperm being deposited closer to the cervix, which in a perfect world opens to allow entrance---particularly if the female is suitably aroused and certainly if she enjoys an orgasm. Those spasms occur with one purpose---to draw the sperm inside the womb. 

Thus, one has to assume, the stronger, more desirable male---the one with the most desirable biological traits---will be better endowed, in terms of size, hardness, staying power, or some combination of any and all three. Said male will have the best chance of 'opening up the channel,' so to speak---and thus the best chance of impregnating the desirable female. 

One would also expect that the more experienced male---the one with more experience, sexually---would be less inclined to ejaculate prematurely, more adept at making the experience pleasurable for the female---thus getting invited back. Other females observing the coupling---or getting the details from tribal gossip---would be more interested in the particularly 'talented' male.

Sociologists and psychologists have really clouded the water in the last one hundred years, looking for all sorts of hidden meaning in an effort to make things more 'human' and thus more complicated than they need to be. Their efforts have completely confused both sexes and sadly, resulted in an increase in homosexual activity among females and males whose view and understanding of human sexuality is inadequate---or at best, distorted. In essence it is those humans that have essentially 'dropped out of the game.' 

I'm not saying that those factors are the sole cause of increased homosexuality but certainly they have had an impact. The whole feminist revolution hasn't helped normal male-female interaction---at least sexual interaction. Certainly some homosexuals of both sexes find themselves unable to compete, i.e., weaker males who are not found attractive by the opposite sex and unattractive females who find it almost impossible to find a suitable male to mate with.

Again, one has to assume that in the 'good old days' of an ancient, primitive culture, weaker males simply did not survive the hardships. Unattractive females without the support of a strong hunter/gatherer, left on their own to fend, simply perished. While it may sound cruel, we have to accept the fact that the mating of the strongest and most attractive of the species is what ensured its very survival.

So, in a perfect world...

One thing that screws up the perfect world is clothing. Men can't go around with their dicks hanging out for female inspection...well, except on the beach. Clothing makes it impossible for the female to demonstrate her readiness to conceive. Stupid women's magazines with inane articles about 'how to show him you are interested' don't help matters. Still, female fashion of the day is certainly intended to accent---'display'---the female posterior. It's latent and subconscious. It's like saying, 'I know you can't actually see my labia---but trust me, it's there, it's engorged and my vulva is open and ready for your cock.'

Think back to the number of times a woman becomes interested in a man and finds every excuse to 'show her ass' so to speak. Again---forget the tits. In the good old days they were seldom covered and there was little male fascination with them. Baby formula hadn't been invented. Young women frequently turn their backs on a dance partner---if they have decided that the male in question is prime mating material. 

I can remember one time going to pick up my kids after my divorce; my ex climbed the stairs back to her new apartment just as I settled behind the wheel, swaying her posterior provocatively as she ascended. I wasn't sure if she was having second doubts about the divorce---or simply saying: 'see what you're missing.'

The first time I met my second wife---we've been married for over twenty years---she unconsciously presented. We had talked on the phone a number of times but never actually met. We still laugh about the fact that she decided to bend over to retrieve a file from a lower file drawer just as I entered her office. She was wearing these hounds-tooth pants. She still has an amazing ass---and the bending over stretched the fabric alluringly over her butt. I distinctly remember my dick twitching---and deciding that I was going to nail that hot little babe.

She knew she had a nice butt; I wasn't the first person who told her so. While she was not consciously 'sending the signal,' she was in fact unconsciously doing exactly that. From our phone conversations we had some interest in each other---although I doubt that either of us understood at that moment how strong that interest was or where it would ultimately lead. The perfect female posterior perfectly 'frames' her pussy; it's as if there is a road sign---an arrow pointing down---which says, 'insert here.'

My son often visits us with his girlfriend---who I have no doubt will soon be his wife. The four of us have fun together, play board games, cooking, drinking---whatever. I can't count the number of times that said stunning twenty-seven year old hottie excuses herself and changes into something 'more comfortable.' It's always some outfit that perfectly displays her exquisite young rear and said rear is conveniently pointed toward her love interest most of the time. It takes about fifteen minutes before the Scrabble game is over as my son indicates that, 'it was a long drive,' and he needs to turn in. Bullshit. She wants to fuck. Lucky guy. Also a breast fed baby.

Before I started writing this I was perusing some soft porn of Russian origin. The photography is impeccable and the young models are virtually flawless. This particular collection is far more about art than porn, with special attention to beautiful settings and artistic posing. From my perspective, the most erotic images are from the rear, showing the young eighteen year old beauties slightly bent from the waist with their delicious little butts thrust back. The most stimulating always include the young beauty peering back over her shoulder, her butt crease slightly open and her moist young pussy below. No dildos, finger-fucks, tattoos, or stupid, smutty 'show the pink' poses. Just the pinnacle of desirable young womanhood displaying her treasures...presenting.

A number of years ago a buddy and I were flying military aircraft across the country and ended up staying in a west Texas city for a few days awaiting repairs on our aircraft. We rented a car and drove around, finding an all-nude diner. Out of curiosity we went in. To our surprise the girls were almost universally young and attractive. While there were certainly food sanitation issues, it was a very interesting experience. As our young waitress bent over the counter to give the kitchen our order, my buddy and I were spell bound as she thrust her pert young cheeks back and her sweet little cunt was in full view.

"That's what I'm talking about!" he said with a leer. "In a perfect world, when a guy sees a sweet young thing bent over like that, he'd just go over and mount her; there'd be a law requiring him to do so." I've had more than one erotic dream about such a world; sadly, the closest I ever came to it was Thailand many years ago. 

Three of us had ferried some aircraft over from Vietnam and were staying over waiting on the aircraft we were going to fly back. Thanks to maintenance delays and a monsoon, we got stuck in Thailand's major city for a couple of days. We ended up procuring some female companionship; the sex business in those days was legal, regulated and 'clean' over there. It was also absurdly inexpensive. Our driver and guide procured four quite attractive young women for us. We had rented a suite for something less than ten dollars a night in a four star hotel. The girls were sweet and friendly and spoke reasonable broken English. They figured out what we had in mind and were all naked within minutes of closing the business side of the deal.

So, within a few minutes, I'm looking around and the debauchery is in full swing. One little hottie is riding one of my buddies on the floor, two others are double teaming another guy and eying me wondering when I'm going to jump in and the fourth one is on her knees sucking off my other buddy. Her ass is up in the air and her cheeks are spread. Her little hairless pussy is glistening. Her ass is moving in slow circles. My cock is bone hard. I walk over to them; my friend getting his knob polished wordlessly indicates that he doesn't care. She looks back at my hard cock and nods. I'm balls deep in that tight little Asian cunt in a flash. 

She's cute enough that I don't need to close my eyes and picture some girl from back home. She's either into it or a damned fine little actress; she's making all the appropriate noises. This isn't about love or marriage, it's just about fucking...servicing the alpha males. The alphas expect you to display and present; there aren't going to be any cocktails or long walks on the beach. Sweet thing, you're just going to get cock---and lots of it. We were in our early twenties, perpetually horny and deprived after too many months in a war zone. We ordered room service and fucked those sweet little Asian whores constantly for twenty-four hours and not once did we hear, 'not tonight, I have a headache.'

I was not trying to impress this girl; I'll never see her again and if I suck in the fucking department she'll neither care nor let on. No dinner, no five dates with increasing activity and no long kissing sessions or sweet nothings in her ear. This is just primal shit. Mount the bitch and fuck her. It's all about me getting off and enjoying myself. No guilt, no touchy-feely bullshit. It's fucking prehistoric. She's receptive, I'm hard; she exists for one reason in the world---to make me feel good by getting me off. 

I almost ended up going to Thailand for a full tour; unfortunately I ended up back in Vietnam for a second tour but I did get back to Thailand a few times, if only for an overnight. Lots of guys actually stationed there had multiple, full time, live in babes who in addition to cooking and cleaning for them, fucked them on demand any time of the day or night. I'm not sure any marriage could have survived a tour of duty in Thailand.

I also asked that shrink about where anal sex fits into the whole game. I received the typical answers: it's taboo, it's the ultimate 'surrender' of a woman's body, it's about domination, it's about the incredible---sometimes painful---sense of fullness on the part of the female, it's really hot and tight---all the usual.

My earliest experience with anal sex amounted to nothing more esoteric than teenaged birth control. Once the pill came along, I lost interest, finding pussy to be far more interesting. I did fool around with a girl a few years back who legitimately preferred it up the butt and I again acquired a taste for butt sex. My first wife and I did it that way one night in the back sat of our car. She was not on the pill and didn't have her diaphragm---and I didn't have a condom. We were both horny as hell. I enjoyed it immensely and she enjoyed it more than she would later admit. It became a regular part of our sex life. She'd had a couple of kids and bluntly, she was a lot tighter back there. My second wife and I have done it very occasionally, almost always after drinking. She doesn't love it but she loves how much it turns me on.

I often wonder what I would do if something happened to my wife? I love her to death and she really is my closest friend. We do everything together. She travels---by air---too damned much. If something happened to her, I'm just not sure I'd have the patience to 'jump back in the game' and find another wife. I doubt that I could find one as perfect as my bride of the last twenty-some years. We're terribly set in our ways.

A foreign mail order bride might be an answer. I'm financially secure; I could certainly afford it. Then again, there are so many horror stories about mail order brides and then of course there is a certain stigma in this society---for both participants. Ultimately she would end up becoming westernized and completely fucked up and I'd probably have to replace her just about the time I had her trained to my liking. Mexico is becoming crime ridden and politically unstable. Asian mail order brides have their own issues and end up being corrupted by our society.

I haven't been to Thailand in decades but I suppose it would be worth a look although I've heard things have changed for the worse. I'd miss my friends and my kids; I'd miss the good old US of A. Still the idea of posting on eHarmony and then sorting my way through a series of plastically rearranged gold diggers makes me nauseous.

Why does it have to be so damn complicated? I don't need a maid, am an excellent cook and don't need taking care of. I'm not cruel or abusive and don't drink to excess or do drugs. I can offer an above average quality of life---but! If, God forbid, something should happen to my wife—I'm positive I don't want another one! I'm not excited about getting into the modern dating scene and everything it involves. I'm just looking for a decent, regular and reasonably attractive piece of ass, preferably first thing in the morning and again before nodding off---with an occasional blowjob at lunch.

You don't have to like my friends and I don't even have to meet yours. Now sure, there's always the chance that we might actually develop a genuine affection, find out that we really enjoy each other's company outside of sex and then---who knows? Marriage wouldn't be out of the question, I suppose---but don't be surprised at the prenuptial agreement.

Still, I was thinking you'd keep your own house---and job. Dinner out or a movie on occasion---why not. At the end of the day, all of that would be just window dressing. At my core I'm just prehistoric. I want a reasonably attractive female in close proximity who will present her luscious rump at regular intervals and not give me a ration of shit when I pull down her drawers and/or flip up her skirt and drill her cunt with a stiff dick. I know, I know, you'd like to cum too---no problem. I'm not that prehistoric.

In a Perfect World Ch. 02



I've been accused of exposing heretofore unknown male secrets in "In a Perfect World", albeit facetiously. In a previous work I wrote about how to pick up attractive young women---married or single---essentially a guide for older men. I'm feeling a little guilty. I've neglected an important subject and a major segment of the population. So, this short piece is for the women out there---women who are trying to find the right man, attract the right man and ultimately end up in a relationship with said right man which has some promise of longevity or permanence. 

This is not like baking a cake from a mix; you're going to have to take some initiative and figure out some things on your own. If you are totally incapable of subtle seduction, are universally recognized as annoying, pick your nose in public, don't floss---or have any of a million other obvious shortcomings too numerous to list, I can't help you. 

On a very serious note: Romance is a luxury. My son reminded me of that fact last evening. Relationships are hard work, time consuming and resource heavy. If you have serious character defects, personality disorders, addictions or are just plain struggling every waking hour and using every bit of energy in your being to survive, a love interest isn't going to fix things and you will undoubtedly fail and fail miserably if you attempt to enter into a romantic relationship. Get your life together before you even think about it. 

We are going to assume at the onset that you are remotely attractive, have no criminal record, aren't listed in the national sexual predator database, know how to dress attractively, understand the finer points of makeup (which you can learn, for heaven's sake, at the Clinique counter at Macy's), are reasonably literate and articulate, visit your dentist regularly and don't have your sister or your roommate cut your hair. You turn a few heads; guys find a reason to talk to you---even hit on you. So on to a "how-to" as it regards Mr. Right. 

We'll take this in seven phases: Selection, Observation, Contact, Advanced Interaction, Primary Seduction, Advanced Seduction and finally, Closing the Sale. I assure you this information will be more useful than crap written by women in women's magazines. 

Selection

The best places to meet desirable men: where you work, where you live, where you eat, where you shop and where you play. The worst places to meet men: bars, on-line dating services, pre-trial detention and AA meetings. With so many women in the workplace, your best chance is probably at work; if not within your company, possibly a client company, the same office building or through trade and professional organizations. It is always easier to do more complete investigation and research if he works in the same company you do. Based on which floor his office is on, you can gain a pretty good grasp of his level of success and financial status. 

I am not remotely discounting the other possible venues. Join your homeowner or condo association. If the men at the gym you attend are fat, old or gay (or some combination of all three) shop around and join another one. If the only people who eat lunch where you do are other women or gay men---eat someplace else. JoAnn's Fabrics is not generally the perfect place to meet Mr. Right (I said generally! If I were giving advice to males I would absolutely recommend that they check out the closest fabric store). 

Home Depot and Lowe's, a golf store if you like the game and can play, the Men's department at Nordstrom's, any electronics store and book stores---Borders is the best. Consider changing your hair salon to one which caters to men. If you have a favorite sport or hobby, obviously hanging out at a place where men practice that hobby or play that sport makes nothing but sense. There are myriad other possibilities; maybe you have a favorite charity or cause. I don't have the space to list them all. Use your imagination. 

Back to finding Mr. Right in the work place. If you work the night shift in the basement and are never permitted out of your tiny cubicle, your opportunities are dramatically reduced at the onset. Otherwise, consider adopting the old Tom Peters principle known as MBWA---Manage by Walking Around. Find a reason to explore your building---preferably the floors above, not below you. Most offices are open, glass front affairs so it's not that difficult to peruse the merchandise. As long as you look like you know what you are doing---are on an important mission---no one is going to screw with you. Make it a point to come to work on occasion at the same time most other people do. Check out which men get out of which cars. Take your coffee break in the cafeteria. Linger in the lobby as people are coming and going. 

Hypothetically, let's assume you've picked out a handful of potential targets. You've either slipped in behind them at the sign-in desk, nonchalantly followed them to their office, read the luggage tag on their briefcase---whatever! You have a name; preferably more than one. You didn't note a ring although that is less of a sure thing these days. You snuck a peek in his car and doubted that rug rats had ever been in there. There's not one of those, "My child is an honor student at Bumply Prep" bumper stickers on his car. 

Now, if you work in HR---just cheat. Look up his personnel record and find out if he's married. If you don't work in HR, you'll have to be more devious. You could just walk up to him and ask: "I love that tie! Where did you buy it---or did your wife pick it out for you?" There's also an even more direct approach: "Excuse me. I'm looking for Mr. Right. On first impression you made the semi-finals. Are you by any chance married---or gay?" That one takes lot of guts---but it sure saves a lot of time and aggravation. I would personally respond very favorably to that approach but it probably won't work with every guy. 

Secretaries and administrative assistants know everything. Get to know them; be nice to them; they can save your ass and make your day both professionally and personally. You have to come up with some legitimate excuse to be on his floor speaking to an admin or secretary reasonably close to his office---if not, in fact, his admin. 

"I didn't know Don's office was over here! He seems very (pick one) nice, sharp, cute, hot, professional. His wife is one lucky girl. Or, was that his wife I saw him with in the cafeteria the other day?" Or even, "I'd really like to bag him, fuck him and marry him---does he have a wife or significant other than I can't beat out?" 

Again, if you're not creative enough to get past this point, you need personal, one-on-one instruction and I charge big bucks for that kind of work. Then again, maybe we can work something out. 

Hopefully you got the right answer, not something like, "Don't waste your time, honey; he's not into girls." Or, "he's single again; let's see... was this wife number three or four...no, five, I think?" On to the observation with a caveat: don't drill down to a single candidate yet. If in the observation phase you discover that one of your candidates eats lunch at the nearest all-nude bar or shops over lunch at the closest BDSM emporium, you may end up being disappointed. Then again, maybe not. 

Observation

Observation is also a lot like stalking. You've already done quite a bit of it in order to eliminate the undesirables. Go on line and spend $59 for a records search. You'll find out if he has any priors or judgments against him. You'll find out where he lives and any outside business interests he has, not to mention former addresses. You can drive by his house and make sure there isn't a Hot Wheels in the driveway. You should keep a journal; figure out when he come and goes, where he has lunch, where he plays or keeps fit, where he buys his morning coffee, how he interacts with others and who he hangs out with. 

This phase lasts as long as you need it to last. If there are no obvious alarm bells after a few days, it's time to move on to the Contact phase which will also allow you to continuing observing, only a little more closely. 

Contact

Contact can be as simple as arranging to get out of your car just as he gets out of his, or on the elevator or whatever so that you can have a reason to make small talk. "Nice that we're having weather" is pretty lame, although the weather is generally safe ground. "How do you like your Mercedes ten million XLZCDFER? I've been thinking of getting one." Just be damn sure you bothered to go by the dealer and know something about the damn car. 

You make the contact. You smile. You do not introduce yourself unless he does so. You cut off the contact before he has time to do so. "Oops! Forgot my security badge. Have a great day." This is first contact. Subsequent contact will occur with more frequency but not so often that he realizes you are stalking him. That occurs at the next stage, Advanced Interaction. 

Advanced Interaction

Find out if there is some way you can have an excuse to be in the same room with him at the same time. Volunteer for a task force. Attend a seminar he is leading. See if there is any reason in the world you could have a legitimate business purpose to knock on his door or schedule time on his calendar. If all else fails, introduce yourself to him in the cafeteria line or at the coffee shop. "I think we chatted in the parking lot the other day and I'm sure I've seen you in Starbucks before. I'm Virginia Craig---Ginnie. I'm in accounting." 

Extend your hand professionally. He should shake it and introduce himself. You might be able to walk with him and sit at the same table with him. If he is joining a whole bunch of guys or people from his own office---defer. You want his undivided attention---one-on-one. You don't want to be the outsider at a gaggle. If he is already interested and thanking his lucky stars that you spoke to him first and he'd really like to get to know you---he'll blow off his buds or workmates and invite you to join him. Then, it's on to Primary Seduction---which will tend to overlap with Advanced Interaction. 

Primary Seduction

If he is remotely interested at this point you will not have to work alone in finding ways for the two of you to meet, bump into each other or whatever. He will be your willing, if oblivious, partner in crime. He will be looking for reasons to be where you are. He might suggest you go to lunch together, for business purposes, of course. Maybe he hits golf balls at the driving range after work. Over lunch he's going to the mall to buy a special gift for his admin. She just had a baby and he'd like a little help navigating Babies-R-Us. It's still purely platonic and professional. 

Eye contact! Hang on his every word. If he never let's you get a word in or doesn't pay attention when you speak, cross him off your list. The hair---always the hair! Smile, work on this one! If your damn hair doesn't move---get a new style and back off the damn White Rain! You need to develop a range of smiles...each one more alluring than the last one without getting lewd. Carefully begin creeping into his personal space. 

Maybe at Babies-R-Us he picks up a baby toy, turns to you and asks, "What about this?" You're standing a few feet away. You could just answer him. But you don't. You move in close, looking over his shoulder. An inadvertent touch of your two bodies---upper only at this stage. You turn to him to answer. You oral hygiene is impeccable. Your lips are inches from his as he turns to look at you. You look fabulous. You smile, thoughtfully. He's actually made a damn good choice. "That's really adorable!" you whisper and then, maybe just a brief hand on the shoulder. Hand on the shoulder---count one, two, three---then remove. Extended hand contact only occurs in the next phase---Advanced Seduction. 

Advanced Seduction

This phase is a little easier if you actually go on a real date but let me relate a short anecdote about a dressy awards dinner I once attended. The woman in question had already received a perfect 4.0 up to this phase. She didn't need to finagle a way to sit next to me at dinner. We'd known each other for years, albeit only professionally. We'd always enjoyed chatting. We sought each other out during cocktails after attending to our respective business-social obligations---ensuring that we were together as the call came to move into dinner. 

The seats were very close together which made her task even easier. We amused each other with irreverent banter through dinner. When the ceremony started, we had to whisper very quietly to avoid being distracting. That meant lips millimeters from ears and very, very soft whispering. 

Looking back, each time she would speak, she would touch me. When we stood up to applaud a winner, her entire body would crush up against me, lips very close again as she would make me laugh with some funny comment about the winner. Toward the end of the ceremony she kicked it up a notch and actually touched me on the knee or thigh when she wanted to say something---and turned her body toward me. The ceremony ended, the dance floor was open and a band began to play. She took my hand and led me to the dance floor. We only danced twice. During the second dance she hugged me very tight and I could sense her breathing increasing as her warm breath tickled my neck. 

We walked outside, hand in hand. We found a private corner and kissed. We found our way upstairs, trying to avoid being too obvious and fucked each other's brains out until dawn. We'd never been on a real date---but had known each other professionally for years. 

The little minx knew I was married when we first met professionally. She also knew through the grapevine that my marriage was on the rocks. I seem to recall we were in the marriage counseling phase. She was a very patient woman. She waited until my divorce was final and then reentered my life at the precise right instant. She'd long since made her selection and at that fateful meeting was able to accelerate the seduction process without a lot of preliminaries. I gave her a ring six weeks later. We were married six months later. We still are twenty-two years later. I never had a chance. 

She's long since admitted that she'd fallen for me the day we first met and had a less than pleasant business meeting together. It took four years of off and on again business contact from the day we met until the day we said our vows---plus one perfectly executed advanced seduction phase at an awards dinner. That's one damn persistent, tenacious and patient woman. 

Closing the Sale

Ladies, if you executed the previous phase correctly, you got laid. Well, more than just a fuck, hopefully the earth moved and it was special. The final phase is for all the marbles: rings, long white dresses, honeymoons, babies, your own Mercedes, a house in the country, a rose garden...till death do us part. The essence of this phase is very simple: the man in question has to know that he cannot possibly live his life without you in it. He has to more than enjoy being with you---he has to need to be with you. Certainly he has to absolutely love fucking you but he must also feel a painful emptiness when you're not with him. 

He has to look at you every day and laugh at his own good fortune. His eyes fill up with tears when you're sitting at the dining room table doing some paperwork and you realize he's just been staring at you silently for who knows how long and you look up and give him that funny little smile and he walks over and kisses the top of your head and tells you how much he loves you and then the paperwork can wait and his hand is in your pants and...well, you know. And what makes it even more fun is you've been married for a couple of decades. 

The sad news is, there is only so much you can do to make this phase work. If it ain't there---it ain't there. You can't hint or coerce your way from good sex to 'I do'. You can certainly screw things up; leaving bridal magazines around is not recommended. If a proposal is not forthcoming within six months at the absolute outside---you got the wrong fish. Throw him back and go back to phase one. 

I didn't say, 'I love you' that night of the awards dinner. It happened a few weeks later. One evening not long after that we were having dinner together prior to a concert. I knew I was already in very deep water. I would just look across the table at this amazing woman---to the point that she was even getting a little irritated. 

"Do you have any doubt anywhere in your being that I'm madly in love with you?"

"No. "

"Are you in love with me?"

"Have been for years; longer than you have with me."

"Then we should get married---soon."

"Is that a proposal?"

"Not the one I had planned on but yes---will you marry me?"

"Yes."

"Good. I'm glad that's settled. "

We carried on that brief courtship between Portland, Oregon and Tampa, Florida---3,000 plus miles---for four months. Our phone bills were astronomical but, boy, did we rack up the frequent flyer miles!

I am convinced that if you are diligent in the earlier phases, then the final phase will fall into place. I remember years ago working with this incredible salesman. I was brand new and assigned to travel with him and learn. He was meticulous and detail-oriented. I don't remember if or how he ever got to the 'Close the Sale' phase. The sales manual said you always had to 'ask for the order' to close the sale. All I ever heard was customers begging him to ship them whatever new product was on the table as soon as possible. 

"Are you sure ten cases isn't too many? Okay, if you're sure. "

The same thing goes with wedding proposals. When he pops the question don't be too quick to jump up and spike the ball---or ring. Test him a little---don't play games but look into his eyes, hold his hand and get him to tell you why he's decided he can't live without you. 

"Marriage is a big step, Herman; I don't plan to be married more than once in my life. Are you sure you're ready to settle down with one woman?"

In closing, I'm not suggesting you use blatant subterfuge. Pretending to like something that makes you nauseous is not a good way to start a life together. You aren't going to be able to change him. He may pretend to change, because he wants to make you happy and if you're happy he'll get laid---but the change will be superficial. 

Good hunting!

Edited by Techsan