Facing the Truth of me not Being as Socially-Equipped as Tom Cruise
Do you want the truth? Stop right now. No one called for Tom Cruise in my living room where I write most of my materials. Not that I hate Cruise. I just can't deal with him at certain times. Like the time when he had married stardom and went dancing hand-in-hand down the middle aisle of the huge cathedral where he and stardom wed--then in a few weeks, People magazine, God bless their heart, plastered a huge photo (maybe bigger than Cruise really is) of Cruise acting like he hated the press and the battalions of photog's whose cameras snapping were, I swear, to the Popular Standard, "Lady of Spain" in perfect rhythm.
But with Cruise and his "marriage" to his first love, stardom, waiting in his agent's black limo--hidden in a cuddly place completely out of sight, I saw a very nauseating sight: Cruise's new hairstyle. I say, hairstyle for it looked awful. I guess Cruise's company of handlers, agents, and yes men all approved of this silly look for a grown man, but since he did it, tied the knot to stardom, all have kissed and made-up.
Granted, I get jealous (but not to the point of kissing his butt), about how ridiculously-popular Cruise is, and granted too, that he works his butt off (again, I am not about to kiss his butt anytime), he has either dated, had quicky-relationships and his share of industrialized divorces made just for Cruise ready to get used by Cruise at any time he pleases. Guys, wouldn't you like to be Tom Cruise even for 20 hours?
Spin the wheel, Don! Let's show the audience the names of a sample of the gorgeous women who have been with Tom, dated Tom, married Tom and then divorced Tom. What a magical night. Aren't you glad that you came? There's Katie Holmes; Nicole Kidman; Laura Prepon and the cutesy little doll: Penelope Cruz. This is just a small sampling--believe me, the list is long. Frankly, and this had to come out, I have always wondered how Cruise had the time to read his script; learn his lines; act for 16 hours a day; sleep very little and still look like a fresh daisy--haven't you?
I will tell you here on or off of the court square or on my soapbox or yours: I have only liked ONE Tom Cruise film: "Risky Business," the film where he was young, and too naive to be cold-hearted and be able to back-stab a friend while on the run. I mean it. I've read both stories published from Rumor Mills and stories from A&E. You can trust A&E. Former news journalist, Dick Curtis, used to host a lot of those horrid crime shows. What a voice he has. I wondered many times if he had not been in radio early in his career say with WLS-Chicago? Probably not. Curtis did not fit into the Rock 'N Roll Groovy Category. I didn't either. But I would have jumped at the chance if some drunken program director at this iconic station had made a huge mistake on a drunken binge and called my number at random. You bet your new shoes, I would have begged for every dime to buy a one-way ticket to the Windy City.
But I digress. None of this hardly has anything to do with Tom Cruise, his harem of bitter women (off camera), his association with Scientology and his crumby hairstyle--which I named: "The Here Today and Hair Tomorrow" hairstyle. Ha, ha. This narrative is really a personal expose telling a great, shameful truth about yours truly and a truth that I am really ashamed to admit publicly, but when you decide to unburden yourself from an annoying burden--just do it, and we all know the shoe company who coined that phrase.
When it came to dating when I was young, I had no sign of Male Dating Equipment suitable to be hidden in an inside suit-coat pocket or in your car trunk. Absolutely none. I shall not be repetitious about this. None. I was a walking shadow when I went to pick-up my dates. Or when we had both agreed to meet at a restaurant. Maybe in a parking lot. I am already picking-up a toxic pattern of why I was not a Don Juan. Neither was Tom Cruise, but I cannot compare Juan since I've never seen him in action, but I've read plenty about his romantic escapades.
All that I had was me, my freshly-brushed teeth, and patiently-styled hair. Of course, I wore clean clothes. Did you really think that in my dating days, I would have been so asinine as to go out on date with a gorgeous girl with dirty clothes on? If I were young today, maybe this would be a passing grade, but certainly not in 1971 through 1974. Taboo! Vulgar! That's how girls thought when their dates wore dirty clothes. Oh, there was that Exception to This Rule: when a guy was seriously "talented" in romantic areas when it involves making-out. Need I explain?
Now that I have almost said farewell to the resentment of my non-abilities to ask any girl in my high school out for Friday night (and them jumping up and down yelling YESSS!), and piggy backing that resentment to Tom Cruise, the Total Man, I am beginning to let my faith take root and possibly live a somewhat happy life without Cruise, his women, and the awful memory that I will live with forever, about not having the right tools in How to Please a Female on a Date.
First off, these are what I knew how to do: Smile; listen to her more than I talk; open her car door; sit her in the car; open the car door when we get to a cafe; let her walk through the door that I just opened for her; seat her at the table and then try to be the most dazzling, superbly charismatic date of her life. That wasn't too much to ask was it? I mean. Other guys did it. And today, other girls do it. Why couldn't I do it?
I can answer the last question right now: let me preface my answer by saying: At no time did my dad, who worked for our family, offer to give me any sign of spending money--knowing a week ahead that on a certain night, I was taking out the pretty "Delilah Shangtree," a pretty and budding majorette. No scratch whatsoever. Not one thin dime. Dad was really smart. Maybe he was letting me grow up by making it by myself. No. That is not right. With his controlling attitude, he did control my life from birth to his death. God bless his heart and that is sincere.
I knew that when these dates came, it would be like a re-run for my mother who had retired from the Textile Industry in Detroit, Ala., Coy Glenn Manufacturing, if you need to do some fact checking. She would drop her head in pity for me as I was about to go into my ritual of hinting to my dad about needing some money, but he either didn't hear me or acted like I wasn't talking. And I would have had money if he had not forbid me from having a job. A Catch-22 if there ever was one.
The sun is setting so stately and predictable in the west. The sunset is so beautiful that I can hardly stay awake. I have lost sleep you can tell. It's now coming all too clear for me--in the here and now. As Physics genius, Albert Einstein said, "for every positive motion in the universe, there is a negative motion." How true, Albert. How true.
This burden that I have hidden for so many years has somehow made me discover a number of important things. Small things that were right in front of my eyes and I didn't take time to see them. Things that now, make a world of sense of why I wasn't socially equipped as Tom Cruise. There were signs. There has always been signs. Even the most-passionate of lovers, Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall, to name one, had signs. Signs that they could no longer go any further in their relationship--but with them, the signs came after they had been in a relationship for a number of months.
But my point is still made. It makes sense now that when I picked up any of my dates, met them at restaurants or even met them in a deserted shopping mall parking lot or in the parking lot of an out-of-town factory that wasn't running over the weekend (there is a sign already) that I was not going to maybe go on just one date. And that be it.
It makes even more sense when I was ask, "can I see you again?" The girl couldn't speak quick enough, "we'll see," and run into the house for telling me that her mom needed her to help her bake a 20-pound turkey for Thanksgiving while it was on July 4th. She had no idea of seeing me again. She didn't have any reason for seeing me. And the girl when I went to her house to pick her up, instead of smiling first at me, she sized me up from top to bottom as if she were searching for somewhere to hang her hat.
As in the case of the girl who lied about helping her mom to bake a Thanksgiving turkey, none of these girls whom I dated really didn't want to go out with me. Who would? I ask you: what hot, pretty girl today in 2017, wants to go out with a jerk-o like me?
Not me. I still am without proper social equipment. Awee.
And not Tom Cruise. Even with his shining social skills--looks, perfect teeth, physique, and wealth, he has a thing for jumping onto and off of couches that he cannot really be considered a "serious" date.
© 2017 Kenneth Avery