Nancy Madore - Enchanted Dreams - Erotic Tales Of The Supernatural

“They can and do work around it,” Maryanne replied. She was completely relaxed now and spoke conversationally, explaining her philosophies without the slightest rancor. Her eyes were wide, and she even felt a bit excited. “But that doesn’t mean they’re not deteriorating while they’re doing it.”

“Forgive me if I seem a little callous here, but aren’t you blowing this a little out of proportion? Most of the guys I know would never do any more than look.”

“Whether or not he acts on his interest in other women is irrelevant.” Maryanne was pleased that Dan wasn’t simply patronizing her, or, worse yet, trying to steer her away from what some men might consider an uncomfortable topic. He was taking her seriously enough to disagree with her, and she appreciated that. “Because the damage will already be done. See, women also have instincts that appear to favor more short-term relationships.”

“Okay, now you definitely have my attention.”

“A woman’s most fundamental need, at her core—and I’m not talking about human survival here but female survival, something she needs to keep her femaleness alive—is to be desirable.” She paused for effect, noticing that he was hanging on her every word. She let this first idea sink in before completing her thought. “Almost every single natural behavior of a man— after he’s had sex with a woman—is designed to diminish her belief that she is desirable. I think it is an unconscious effort to ultimately destroy her desirability to other men.”

Dan sucked in his breath. “Wow!” He turned discreetly to look at the woman she had singled out before, this time observing her more carefully. Maryanne casually observed the woman as well. The couple had clearly been together a long time; the wife was even beginning to resemble the husband. She had little, if any, visible signs of femininity or sexuality left. There was a sadness behind her eyes that somehow softened the bitter twist of her lips. She was staring past her husband indifferently. Dan had caught the husband ogling Maryanne when he suddenly turned, and the man looked guiltily away. Dan turned back to Maryanne, his expression tragic. She smiled.

“You see?” she asked, knowing that he did.

“You make an interesting point,” he conceded. “But I’m not ready to accept defeat just yet. Let me think about it a minute.” He picked up his fork and knife and cut off a bit of steak. Maryanne watched him as he chewed on it thoughtfully. She couldn’t help chuckling as she watched him, a bit too gleefully for the occasion perhaps, but she was so delighted to be able to have this kind of open discussion with a man. She had always known that her observations were different from those of other people, men and women alike; hers were much more cynical and pessimistic. She couldn’t help seeing things for what they were, but she had learned to keep most of these observations to herself. She tried her best to acquiesce to the accepted viewpoint, seemingly agreeing with all that was politically correct in an effort to fit in with those around her. At times she felt like a chameleon, always changing her own brilliant colors to mimic the much less appealing ones of those around her. There were times when she even doubted herself, wondering if she really was viewing things correctly after all, but her efforts to change only gave more credence to her original viewpoint and she was obliged, however reluctantly, to keep it. So now, to actually share that viewpoint with another person—a man, no less—and actually have it cause him to stop and think was terribly exciting for her. Dan, for all of his optimistic thinking—she had spotted that in him immedi-ately—was not one to ignore a strong argument that had merit. She waited eagerly to see what he would do with the ideas she had shared with him, sipping on her drink in the interim.

Dan swallowed his steak and looked at her. Just as Maryanne expected, he was cleverly going to place the ball back in her court by pointing out some similar inconsistencies in women. “You know,” he began tentatively and thoughtfully, clearly enjoying the conversation as well, “there are plenty of women out there who lose interest in men, too, after they’ve had their way with them…playing all kinds of cruel games and generally screwing with their heads.”

But Maryanne had already thought of this. “If you think about it for a minute,” she countered, “you will realize that that actually proves my original point. A woman who plays head games with a guy usually isn’t all that interested in him to begin with. She either wants something from him or she’s giving in to his persistent advances for some other reason. She doesn’t have any genuine feelings for him. And this is the point—a woman’s disinterest is the only thing that can hold a man’s interest. He’s still interested in her because he really hasn’t had her yet. She allows him to hang on because it satisfies her need to feel desirable, but since she doesn’t really love him, she’ll just keep using and abusing him. And for as long as she doesn’t care about him, she will keep his full attention. But if she falls in love with him, what happened to that woman over there will eventually happen to her. Even if a man tries to fight this instinct, his soul will be crying out for someone new. He might not have the guts to act on it, like you said—but instinctually he will become more aware and interested in almost every other woman, and she will know. ”

Dan was shaking his head, but his mouth was full of food so she continued. “Just think about it. It’s true.”

He forced his food down with a gulp. “So if you really believe this, you go out with a guy, what? Once? Twice? How long before it starts to go to shit?”

“I don’t know,” she replied thoughtfully. “I haven’t figured that out yet.” She dipped her head, suddenly shy, and tapped her long, glossy fingernails together in front of her nervously.

Dan gave her a funny look, but he was smiling. “Come on,” he teased. “You must have an idea. How many dates does it take to get to the jerk inside the man?” he asked with the same rhythm and inflection as the cartoon owl who asked, “How many licks does it take to get to the center of a Tootsie Roll lollipop?”

Maryanne laughed. “Remarkably few, if I were to guess.”

“So how am I doing?” he asked. “Will I even make it through the night?” Maryanne looked at him in surprise, and he cleared his throat. “I’m sorry…I didn’t mean that like it sounded. Jeez!” He shook his head. “We are jerks!” But his eyes still sparkled with humor.

“I don’t think of men as jerks,” Maryanne told him. “I just think that relationships between men and women have a short life. Does it have to be somebody’s fault? Women are just as responsible.”

She once again had his full attention. “Go on,” he said, narrowing his eyes dubiously.

“I’m a realist.” She shrugged. “But most women aren’t. They stubbornly deny what is happening and ignore their inner voice that is crying out for attention—attention that can only be found in a new relationship. Now both of them are ignoring her and she really starts to deteriorate. Perhaps women are too sensitive. Perhaps our feminine egos are too fragile. But there it is. Many women just go with it, like that woman over there seems to have done. But you can see by looking at her that something is missing, right? You can see that the life has gone out of her? Probably she’s moderately healthy otherwise, and lives a fairly normal life. But her femininity and passion are utterly gone.”

Dan snuck another glance at the woman and seemed dismayed to find her husband eyeing Maryanne yet again. “Why doesn’t she leave that bastard?” he asked, perturbed.