Why I will never, ever stop loving women full stop

Whenever I start on this most familiar trait of my mental make-up, I can see the assorted eyebrows of – even some very near and dear – gals within my inner circle preparing for lift-off.

And, while my chequered recent past would certainly merit such apprehension, I assure you one and all, my motives in providing this latest update could not be purer.

I’ve been a bit out of bounds in terms of the usual social media malarkey and even addressing business and personal emails while getting accustomed to a new drug regime.  Madopar is the name of this new chemical brother, with whom I can already  sense I will be well acquainted before long.

It’s a two steps forward, three steps back kind of thing, and apparently it can take up to 6 months before one knows whether or not one is truly simpatico with the old Mad Opa (trying to find a familiar handle/nick name).

The delightful boosts of the desired effects are becoming more noticeable and seem to, ever so slowly be increasing in terms of duration. However, I was a tad terrified when I got caught out the other day in a giant supermarket in a giant shopping mall nearby.

The effect wore off while I was securing some survival supplies to sustain me during my health hibernation, in turn reducing me to Zimmerframe Zach, my shuffling, unsteady dear old Grandpa impersonation (pipe, slippers and striped PJs pulled up to just beneath the chin optional).

This morning I took my first pill of the day on an empty stomach after an hour or two of half decent sleep. I then had a lovely chat with a very close gorgeous friend, and following said inspirational chat, ventured forth with a veritable spring in my step.

Those caring so much for me, including my family and friends on the other side of the world, may rest easy.  Captain ‘Foolheardy’ Camperdown actually seems to be morphing into Sergeant ‘Sexy’ Sensible.

So this time, I just dropped into the local IGA to restock on some staples. (not literally, that would be weird). By the time I’d stumbled to the checkout, Zimmerframe Zach was back again and the teenage boy Fate had picked to serve me, must have thought, ‘Oh, bugger, woe betide me. Why can’t this cup pass me by?’

Or words to that effect (..)

I bore him no ill will, however, as I’d probably be on the same wavelength had it been me 8 years ago when I was a teenage boy..

But by the same token, I didn’t feel like having to explain myself. We dealt with it like two blokey bloke-blokes – in utter benevolent silence, with just the odd friendly grunt punctuating the soothing early morning silence.

After that experience, his colleague – a friendly looking girl, only a few years his senior – saw me freezing up while trying to put my plastic and readies (filthy lucre) back into my fast slimming wallet.

“Can I help you, Sir?”

  • “Thank you, it’s just the Parkinson’s,” I said, softly.

“No problem at all, I know the feeling. Do you need someone to help you to your car and are you ok to drive?”

  • “No that’s fine, thank you. That’s very kind of you, thank you for your help. You’re very considerate, thank you.”

“No problem at all, we can also hold your shopping for you if you need to come back later to collect it.”

  • “That’s good to know. Well thanks again, and I hope you have a lovely day.”

“The same to you Sir, and we’ll see you again soon.”

I rest my case.

Take-outs: Courtesy, not just flattery, will you get you quite a long way; The strong silent approach, at times, can be equally invaluable; Your intrepid author should really stop trying to come up with new faux-funny monikers and nicknames.

Meanwhile, just leaving you with a – totally over the counter – illustration of why I’ll remain a signed-up aficionado of the fairer sex forever more.

NB. Ignorance of the perennially cool is no excuse: (click on link) …

Toni Basil still breaks it down to ‘Hey Mickey’

… because, after all:

PS.  Love that line (free advice to all young boys/men, present authors not excluded): ‘Oh Micky what a shame you don’t understand, you take me by the heart when you take me by the hand.’

PPS. To anyone temporarily unable to catch me through the usual channels. Please don’t be offended if I don’t answer your SMS, Tweet, Email, MMS, phonecall, Messenger msg, WhatsAPP msg, FB comment, holographic emanation, smoke signal, msg in a bottle or carrier pigion missive within the previously allotted time-frame.

Trust me, there’s usually a perfectly reasonable explanation.

The Rich ‘Mad Opa’ of Oz.

 

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