PTD !

Now that I have your attention, let me assure you the title of this story is not a typo and I will herein explain its significance during the following discourse. I’m a person who, if given the choice of coming back again per the unlikely phenomenon of reincarnation, would prefer to be a most successful “Cupid”. Witnessing the cementation of an eternal bond between a man and a woman pleases me.

So I chose to produce a manuscript as a way of bringing to life this angelic dream of becoming a kind of messenger of love, and personify an encouraging catalyst that enables a powerful liaison to burst forth amidst the betrothed. After reading the Spanish edition of the Sherry Argov publication “Why Men Love Bitches”, as a response to the premise of the comedian author, I decided to contribute my own male perspective. Her text was located by chance while I browsed a display table in a Tijuana supermarket during the period I was a San Diego State University student renting an apartment in Mexico.

To kick off my efforts, I submitted ten pages of my initial travails to a female editor at the annual SDSU writer’s conference. At the conclusion of our appointment, a most interesting synopsis was culled from our brief meeting together. The “critical” remark I remember most vividly was: “a provocative flair but in an offensive way”.

In order to stand out from the crowd when diving into the genre of another relationship book, an author would surely delight in taking ownership of a reputation for possessing a “provocative” voice! This may very well rocket one toward the outer limits of success! However, a brutally honest approach to acquire this distinguishing characteristic might generate an undesirable “offensive” interpretation of one’s good intentions, not to mention frighten off the likelihood of securing a publisher.

In the meantime, I mailed off the first draft of my complete manuscript to a very dear female relative by marriage (also being my godchild). Rather than receiving a rave review, I was informed by her that after having become so upset while digesting my introductory pages, she had no choice than to abandon the idea altogether of completing her perusal. Now this reaction naturally shocked me at first, but then I decided that if I had unearthed a way to so dramatically upset the sensitive female temperament (striking a nerve) that maybe I had stumbled onto something of possible value worth developing a little further (but employing an altered style).

My answer to correcting the apparent overboard emotional response to my opinions and conclusions was to switch my target audience from principally the male reader to the readers of both genders. This change of heart required a complete abandonment of the principal thrust of “edition” one. The turnaround can best be exhibited here by comparing the now obsolete front cover call-outs I discarded (longer) to the more pithy and focused new ones (shorter):

“How to conquer the modern female heart. Finally, hope for the average “Joe” searching for that extraordinary woman. The result of a thirty-year field study explains for the first time how any gentleman can make friends with the girl of his dreams.”

“A guide for men seeking to understand women and a revealing confession for women seeking to understand themselves.”

I believed my new approach would effectively double the marketing value and potential for success of my valiant effort toward promoting triumphs in love. You may ask to what this “thirty-year field study” may be referring? Simply stated, the foundation of my experiences was fifteen years of dating followed by another fifteen years of marriage. Not the least of which included a collection of correspondence saved/hoarded from over 500 notes, cards, and letters.

Please understand my spouse did not appreciate preserving a physical collection of so many heartfelt memories from my previous single-life romances. That’s why before disposing of all of the tangible evidence of these sometimes passionate writings, I inscribed them word for word, letter by letter, keystroke by keystroke into my Microsoft word program. This entailed many evening sessions to finish typing about 240,000 words taken from a bevy of 45 female friends, relatives, and sweethearts. And please keep in mind that on my end, I mailed about 500 letters in return (either to initiate the correspondence or in response to the reception of such). These endeavors which span fifteen years of courting the opposite sex (or just making friends) represent a wealth of emotional baggage from all involved parties.

Now assuming that my treasured collection of voluminous correspondence comprised only the most true, honest, and sincere sentiments of the creators, I took it upon myself to glean, collect, and organize their most profound revelations. Most of the quotes selected originate from the deepest recesses of the female mind, heart, and soul. The end result of the sorting process was a compilation of 563 impromptu quotations. These girly passages would be incorporated into the fifty chapters of the book as the main ingredient. In the finished format, the lefthand pages apportion up to a dozen unedited quotations, while the author commentaries on said topic are reserved for the righthand pages. Each brief, two-page chapter addresses a specific, unique aspect of the human condition. In addition, the chapters can be read in any random order, without confusion, if the reader so wishes to do so. Here I share five chapter excerpts:

Topic — Quote — Comment

Provocative Female Humor — I learned the alphabet for the deaf. It’s pretty easy really. I can show you how to spell your name using your hands. Then, when you get tired of spelling with your hands, we can think of something else to do with them (BJ). — Jokes are the most spontaneous aspect of communication and reveal the existence of a healthy state of mind and an active imagination.

Pleasure Trips: Daydreams and Fantasies — I dream about a life with you—having more kids, being your wife; that’s all it will ever be though — just a dream. A dream I must try to shut out of my mind only I don’t want to … GOD ONLY KNOWS HOW MUCH I LOVE YOU (CJ). — Our memories and daydreams allow us to perpetually love someone in absentia.

Employment Satisfaction — I was told the other day that I am considered to be among the four top secretaries in our organization — la creme de la creme — and I have a job if I want it. I can, however, opt for the severance package. Now I don’t know what to do. (LS).— Discerning men are reluctant to establish a family with a pretty girl who has a sordid history, drug issues, or shallow self-esteem.

Education — As soon as the school season is out next summer I’m going to start getting some education, so I can get of [sic] this welfare and get some real dignity back. I really want that badly (DM). — Find an above-average girl who has proven herself by making efforts to develop her imagination and intellect.

Communication Can Be Erotic — You have seen my actions or lack of action is due to fear … This type of fearful deception has stunted by emotional and spiritual growth … I found it very exciting to read and reflect on your letter (PS). — Women love to peruse through every word spoken by the advances they generate.

Now let’s explore where this manuscript was re-written and polished over and over again. Namely, an ecological cabin built on a hill overlooking the ghost town of El Triunfo, Baja California Sur, Mexico. This was the locale that provided the necessary isolation. Although only a hundred meters from the highway below, the steep, meandering foot trail to the top guaranteed complete solitude. All of the building materials for the cement foundation, the bow stick walls, and the palm roof were carried on the backs of the local Mexican craftsmen or their burros. I alone transported all of the necessary clean water. A single solar panel kept the lights on at night, the milk fresh, and the laptop charged.

Spending most weekends on this prominence surrounded by mesquite and cactus was not without its hazards. One afternoon, I was painting a fence post, using an empty 55 gallon drum as a table. I briefly proceeded to the interior of the cabin for something or other, and then began to walk back outside to gather up my paintbrush and finish up my little afternoon project. But I stopped dead in my tracks when my toy poodle “Corazon” began to stare intently at the ground in front of me. A most unwelcome visitor had encroached on my garden path, a meter long rattlesnake! The pocket gopher I trapped later in the month proved to be much less menacing.

With the new and improved manuscript, I was so proud of my undertaking that I mailed complete copies back to my Godchild (as above), as well as to my best college buddy, and lastly to an old acquaintance (now a Catholic parish priest). Still hard to believe that after selecting such a diverse group of individuals to proofread and comment, that I never heard even a single word back from any of them (not even mention of its safe delivery via registered mail). This lack of interest mirrored the dozens of attempts I have made in pitches to interest an editor or literary agent. I can understand a decision not to promote my book after reading it through, but to never have generated even one positive response is nothing less than bizarre. The most logical explanation of this universal rejection is that my misdirected enthusiasm is perfectly delusional. Then again, maybe my thoughts are so beyond the ordinary that the average person cannot appreciate them. In any event, to prevent any more future disappointments, I did not see any point of considering a self-publishing venture.

Speaking of delusions, I imagined my popular “best seller” would be appropriate as a supplementary textbook for college-level human relations courses, as reading material for marriage preparation seminars, and in general as a help for singles looking for true love. With the sales proceeds, I would finance my next project — a documentary film. The theme of the movie would be revealed and encompassed in the clever title: “Nerds Who Love Women”. Thanks to the failure to promote my book successfully (title abbreviated “PTD !” as above) my digital cameras and sound equipment only collect more and more dust. And my vision of becoming a cupid in the flesh are forever gone now.

Coming to my senses, and not wanting my thousands of hours of cerebral investment to go completely to waste, I decided the best possible outlet would be to package up my manuscript (along with the text of the five-hundred-plus letters) for my first grandson’s sixteenth birthday present. But since his recent diagnosis of being found deeply somewhere on the autistic spectrum, now even that bright idea has encountered a super glitch! Perhaps I may have a second chance to share my story when his younger brother becomes a teen (in contrast to the elder, he is quite the talker).

I don’t regret my forsaken speculations. I can point to the 1867 purchase of the territory of Alaska being defined at the time as “Seward’s Folly”. Today, the transaction is considered a genius idea and a resounding success. I am convinced my lunacy of digitally documenting and preserving all of the intimate emotional outpourings shared with me must have some intrinsic value. It’s been said we have no identity without a sound memory. And what better way is there to understand women than to examine how they articulated in their own words their thoughts and feelings? Presently, I debate the idea of reclassifying my non-fiction genre from dating/romance to (heartbreak) memoir.

Considering the fact that for matters of privacy I would necessarily identify the owners of the personal quotations by way of paired initials (and not necessarily correct initials), there also was the matter of attributing authorship to my true self or not. After some thought and research, I decided on the construction of a pseudonym. I called upon a Greek mythology hero for my first name, a middle name stolen from an Egyptian pharaoh, and a last name spotted on a road sign announcing the next Mexican pueblo (in fact, a canonized saint). Never expecting this to take place, but after the passage of time, I found myself falling in love, so to speak, with my now chosen professional name. Ultimately, I resolved this “identity crises” by petitioning the Santa Barbara Superior Court to legally change my name. If my book were ever to be on the shelf, my privacy and that of others would be protected. At the same time, I am now my own person and I have been set free from any lingering awkwardness for having been named after father and grandfather at the time of my christening.

And now it’s time to finally reveal the significance of “PTD !”. It happens to be the abbreviated title of my imaginary bestseller “Pleasure, Turmoil, Despair!” which defines the sad cycle that so many failed relationships experience (and one that is to be avoided if at all possible). Ironically, it also characterizes my exploits of choosing to become a “writer” as a second career, following my previous life as a peace officer/federal agent (where I sought to make sure my reports were written with the goal of being clear, concise, and complete). I am surely not a quitter, and now I have to admit that neither am I a realist. I can only hope and pray that embracing those two characteristics will be the key to finding a reward in one or another future labor of love.