The author of an autobiography* I’m currently reading says that the definitive element which separates the ‘men from the boys’ is their moral convictions.

Wow. It hit me quite forcibly, not because I’m such a shit, but the lucidity of the statement.

The writer is a psychoanalyst and, from his life story, he’s been around the block a few times.

So

have I, but I hadn’t (yet) picked up the clarity of his observation.

It made me wonder if part of the confusion and anxiety which I perceive in my fellow human beings stems from the excess of choice with which we’re all presented every day – coupled with the propaganda we absorb – much, I suspect, subliminally – when vested interests seek to influence our lives.

And technology provides an added complication by its power of distraction, the result of which is too little private time to spend with ourselves in that ‘inner space’ of our mind where all that’s hidden from the world exists. Not only is there too much attempting to enter and be sorted every day, but time and fatigue take their toll.

I sometimes wonder if the bottom line of all this is that what I’ve begun to call ‘pseudo activity’ has the debilitating effect of making it more and more difficult to know ourselves.

And this happens for those of us who, we hope, are constantly in the maturing process. In the ‘What Men Do’

Guide there’s constant reference to the 7-year life changes which is an inherent element in being human; how we respond to the challenge of these changed perspectives is, I reckon, a very personal way we measure (oh-so-privately) if we’re spending our Life wisely.

Fools, whose fears make them cling to sameness, inevitably stagnate. As for their moral convictions, do they ever reach that state? It strikes me that few people have convictions – about anything. ‘Hang Loose’ and ‘Anything Goes’ seem to be closer to the fashion in the style of the Twenties and Sixties of the last century.

But growing anxiety and the state of Depression seems to be the result.

So, if this is the ‘Dividing Line’ as the man says, it strikes me as a wonderful measure we can all use to get some clarity (and happiness?) into our lives.

It’s certainly woken me up.

*The Pillar Of Fire by Karl Stern.

I was stopped in my tracks in Marks & Spencer yesterday; they had finally produced something that, momentarily, I was desirous of wearing.

This amazing creation was a pair of corduroy jeans in a colour I call ‘shit-brown’ – not easy to find in my experience.

In reality, I’m unlikely to make a purchase as I don’t care for their ‘fit’; it’s too …. too …. well, commonplace. I don’t care for jeans that ‘fit where they touch’; I like ’em to ‘touch what they feel’.

And I like ’em low-ish, that hang from the hips. Years ago I was told that females are turned-on by some curve to a guy’s rear-end, since when I’ve been taking stairs two-at-a-time in the hope it’ll keep my arse in good shape.

I can’t see it – my arse I mean – but where it locks into the top of my legs it feels, well, sort of shapely to the tops of my fingers. This I take as a very hopeful sign as the ‘sensitivity pads’ at the top of my fingers have been remarked upon by more than one who has known them well (and I don’t mean my Grandma).

In the ‘What Men Do’ Guide there’s reference to the near-magical knowledge which master craftsmen have at their finger tips – a form of intuitive know-how quite different from the basic knowledge of the brain and ‘what makes sense’.

Thinking about it I reckon this is why I often feel ‘out of it’ – ‘out’ meaning a sort of dissatisfaction with what passes for prevailing opinions, which is what seems to be acceptable to Joe Average. That’s why, for instance,

I’m the only guy in Halifax taking two steps at a time on the escalator when ‘Joe Average’ is taking the opportunity to have a free ride.

And I’m not saying that a life of such slovenliness leads to a flabby arse, lumps of cellulite appearing here and there leading to the cover-ups from Marks & Spencer, but then nor am I saying it isn’t a contributing factor.

Actually now that I think about it, ‘Joe Average’ has been getting on my tits recently with his bland acceptance that if it’s good enough for the crowd, it’s good enough for him.

(Perhaps I should point out to those who haven’t got themselves a copy of the Guide that ‘Joe Average’ is the ‘bad guy’ in the plot. This is because he personifies the human seed with which we’re all born but that remains sterile and wasted in the ‘bud’ stage. (Deep, huh?). This is because he lacks the Balls to make any attempt to blossom – if you get my drift.)

So much for my moment of amazement in M & S, since when I’ve been wondering, now that they’ve got the colour right, is it conceivable they’ve tossed aside the ‘Joe Average’ fit?

I think I’ll take a closer look.

I’ve got this theory that we don’t make many decisions in our lifetime. Sure, when it comes to, ‘The chicken or the beef, sir?’ we can be decisive. But it’s the bigger, life altering decisions I’m talking about.

Most people perhaps make a handful: Do I go to university or not? Is this the person I want to spend the rest of my life with? Is 65 too young to retire?

And, to be honest, I’m not even sure that many guys actually, actively decide upon those big things. They just go with the flow. They either end up following what everyone else is doing and go to Uni, or maybe financial circumstance makes the decision for them. At thirty-odd, after a few years in a relationship, it becomes time to get married. Then when 65 rolls around your boss decides whether it’s time for you to retire.

There are hoards of people ready and waiting to make decisions for you. Your mother, friends, boss, government, the people at the electricity company… will gladly point your life in a direction that works for them.

And that’s the point, without making choices you will naturally follow the twists and turns that life throws your way. At age thirty, or 40, or 50, you’ll find yourself in a place you definitely don’t want to be. At which point you’ll promptly make some rash decisions to make up for a lifetime of drifting. Friends and family will look upon the ‘new you’, buying the motorbike or telescope, and chalk it up to a midlife crises.

Nobody wants to be that guy.

So, with this ahead, now is the time to grab your life by the scruff of the neck, wrestle the decisions away from mommy and the teachers and busy bodies, with their self-serving ‘advice’ that comes with the euphemistic label, ‘your best interests at heart.’

To point your life in the direction you want to go in, you need to take the time to know yourself. It’s vital to tune in to the inner you, and listen and sense for what, of the infinite possibilities in this world, are revving your engine.

Then start making the

decisions to get there. It’s What Men Do.

Men and Women are different. Agreed?

However, in order to understand this it is probably better to think of them as ‘Male’ and ‘Female’, the reason being that the ‘difference’ is rooted in the biological.

You will have noticed this ‘difference’ of course; your knob might even have experienced a little twitch as you read the word ‘female’, your Awareness of gender difference being so intensified in your own biological make up right now (we say this assuming you are currently in your 3rd or 4th seven year cycle, i.e. between the ages 14-28). The desire for a shag doesn’t peter out at age 28, it’s just looked upon differently.

So to return to this ‘difference’, how you consider the subject largely depends on your age. If you are currently part of the age group referred to above your thoughts on ‘Womanliness’ envisage a physical creature you wish to strip naked, fondle in every human crevice then enter, thrusting your cock as deep as you can for as long as you can.

And of course there’s nothing ‘wrong’ with this, at least we don’t think there is – providing the female being entered is as enthusiastic for the encounter as you are.

However, despite all the energy you expend on this and however often you indulge in it you will learn very little about Womanliness. If anything.

Let’s back up a minute and consider the situation anatomically. As a male your tackle, when erect, is convex and shaped for penetration whereas the opening the female offers is concave and styled to receive.

Additionally, what the male ‘shoots’ is shaped like a torpedo, ideal to ‘hit’ the female’s target and begin the Life process all over again.

So much for the physical …. but it doesn’t get us any closer to understanding ‘Womanliness’, in fact we suspect what we’ve just described in terms of ‘male’ and ‘female’ could apply to a chimpanzee or a cocker-spaniel.

And the torpedoes aside, the action is all visible; but whilst we observe the female is sweating as much as you are, it doesn’t reveal anything about what makes her the mysterious creature she is.

So how can we find it, ‘dig it out’, bottle it and take a sniff when we want to remember what it was like, clinging as deep as we can to this ‘female’ even as we’re pumping like fuck? Meanwhile, she keeps her secret to herself.

Or does she? If she does, is

it deliberate or is this ability to spin an invisible web in which we males become not so much caught as absorbed, something which eludes her control?

Our penetrative cock (of which we’re oh-so-proud) can’t get to the root of it, but perhaps nor can she. It’s a primordial essence that’s always been a part of the package, perhaps – and we’re just guessing here – to sustain a balance to offset our greater physical power and, well, Balls.

What we think is that ‘Womanliness’ has to be accepted as a Mystery which is uncrackable. It’s like a lollipop that, however relentlessly you suck it, never loses its flavour; it’s like a fragrance which lingers, inexpressible, irrational, quite beyond the puny power of ‘Thinking Man’ ….

… so don’t make yourself sore fellas, kidding yourself you’ve the tool to plumb the depths; you don’t.

Settle for being a frustrated male and learn to wallow in your condition.

And enjoy it.