The Adventures of a Love Investigator, 527 Naked Men & One Woman (9 page)

My first impression is that perhaps this is a prepared speech as it flows so easily from his lips. But then a concerned look settles on his face as he continues, “What it’s done in some ways has been to say, that if you’re not successful in the context that men are successful, your life hasn’t been worth living.” He shakes his head. “I just don’t believe that.”

I inhale the luxury of the room, and wonder if it’s easier to say these things once you’ve conquered the world.

His voice is softer now, “I believe from the bottom of my heart that one of the greatest women that I’ve ever known is not an overly bright woman. In the context of success in the outer world, her success is almost nonexistent.”

“Who is this woman?”

“She is one of the most honest, loving, giving human beings I’ve ever met. On
that
basis she is a hugely successful individual – my mom.” He leans his head in a boyish manner.

“Everybody views my dad as a hugely accomplished man in his own right. But it’s unfortunate that people slight people who have committed themselves to making other people happy.”

A hint of a tear settles in his right eye. “If my mother were to stand up there as a contemporary woman, she doesn’t have a college degree and she’s not writing a book or she’s not a successful something or other, people would say, it’s kind of a wasted life. There are times when I want to say to people, do you not get the value of growing up with somebody there to talk to, about whatever it is you want to talk about?”

Finally – appreciation for the stay-at-home mom.

“If only for the reason that my mom was there for me, I never went through one of those stages where I hate my parents,
I’m going to go out and get drunk, do drugs, and have sex
. I lived by such a cautious measure because I never really wanted to make my parents feel as though they didn’t do the right thing.”

He smiles. “The value of having someone there when you come home from school whether you scraped your knee or whatever...
Someone to talk to.
We owe this to our children.”

Is love simply having your love appreciated?

My one hour interview has grown to four. By the time Fred escorts me out, his arm is around me and we are both in tears. One of the things I take away from my interviews with men is that a mother’s love for her son is the groundwork on which he stands. It can make or break him if it’s too much, too little, too soon, too late.

“I taught my sons by example that when a woman says no, she doesn’t necessarily mean no. I’ve lived to regret that.”

~ Will, 55, Married

Case Clippings / Mothers, Fathers, Daughters and Sons

A professional chef in an upscale restaurant, Paul bears a half-way resemblance to Rob Lowe. We’re sitting in corner of the kitchen during a rare lull in this culinary wonderland. I ask him to tell me about an intimate time with a woman.

He barely hesitates. “One moment that sticks out in my mind was when I was about twelve. I’d been running around in the woods and I got stung my many, many bees. My mom took care of me. I was in a lot of pain and feeling very sorry for myself. She sat down on the bed with a bunch of my baby albums. She just talked about how happy she was when I was born. How much I really meant to her. I needed to hear that right then. I told her I loved her. We’ve always been close, but that was a special moment.”

Mitchell is forty-six, tall, thin and bookish. He’s recently divorced after a twenty year marriage. “I used to want my father to just smack my mother once in awhile. She hated his family. But in the end, she took care of his mother when she got sick. When his father got ill, she took care of him too. My parents loved each other. I never saw it then. There were no signs of affection in our home. When I grew up, I realized they didn’t show it in the way I needed to see it. She really loved him. My father got sick forever and my mother took care of him. I keep wondering if I will ever find someone to marry who could take care of me if I got that sick.”

Jim is sandy haired, twenty-nine and in a serious relationship. He manages a country club in Michigan. We sit on a patio overlooking the 17
^th
green. It’s late spring and the air is sweet with the fragrance of blooms and promise.

He says with a catch in his voice, “I realize more and more as time goes on how good of a person my mother was. She gave me excellent guidance on things that I keep coming back to in life. My mom was a single parent but she did her best to raise her children and still pursue a career. She died of cancer – a brain tumor. The tough part was watching her die because it took away from all the life she had before. I try to think about her when I’m down. Somehow the thought of her makes me stronger. She had a lot of class. A person isn’t really dead until no one thinks about them anymore. So as long as I have memories of her, she’ll continue to live.”

Nathan’s a corporate lawyer in Chicago. He’s thirty-four, slightly chubby and adorable. We’re in his office at twilight.

“After college, the only thing I was really qualified to do was rule the universe. I just didn’t know where to send my resume. I was making the decision between art school and law school. I went by my mom’s for dinner. She handed me a double scotch and the next thing I knew I woke up in the middle of first year contracts. The result is I have my law degree and I no longer drink scotch.”

Jeff’s a legal assistant for a large law firm in North Carolina. He has Hugh Grant hair and puppy dog eyes. He works out three days a week and has muscles on muscles. “There I stood with paper shoes on my feet, paper pants on my body and they ask me to carry my new daughter. They hand me this seven-thousand pound baby. I can barely hold her.”

At twenty-five, Allen’s finishing his last year of school. He’s tall with angry eyes and a forced smile. “One of the biggest things a man has to overcome is fearing other men. My father used to beat my mother. He was a very big man – over six feet and two-hundred and thirty pounds. The police would come and all the people in my neighborhood would see him get arrested. The next day all my friends would tell me what they would have done. There I was, ten years old, thinking I’m a sissy because I can’t defend my mother.”

“She is where I go in my mind, when I feel the desire to cheat on my wife.”

~ Phillip, 54, married

Case 452 / Phillip

Phillip is a serious man, modest and soft spoken. Happily married for thirty-five years, he could easily be taken for a preacher. Behind his thick glasses I detect a twinkle in his bluish eyes. His teeth and his toupee are both slightly crooked.

I meet him in the lobby of the Hyatt in Richmond. I’m in year five of my odyssey. A light snow covers the ground. We hug our coffee cups in an effort to get warm from the chill that lingers despite our sitting in a heated building.

“I’ve never told anyone this story before,” he says with downcast eyes.

Goody. I love these virgin stories.

“I love my wife, but I cheat on her in a regular, non-physical way.”

Non-physical cheating? I imagine it’s internet related. I’m wrong.

“I was in the Tampa airport, in the elevator. The elevator door opened, I walked in and set my bags down. A woman walked up and stood directly in front of me. Other people came in and she backed into me. I felt her fondling me. She was one of the most gorgeous women I have ever seen in my life. And I let her. I was shocked, but I let her touch me.”

I try to imagine any woman wanting to grab Phillip’s pants. He’s one of the least desirable men I’ve encountered. Maybe that’s why she did it... for shock value?

I could tell by his breathlessness that he was back in the elevator reliving the adventure for perhaps the thousandth time. I didn’t interrupt.

“I have her telephone number,” he said. “She’s married and she lives in Toledo. I’ve never called. She is where I go in my mind, when I feel the desire to cheat on my wife.”

“Women are much more focused on what they have to do than men are. Whatever it takes to get close to a man or to get rid of him.”

~ Dr. Bob, 49, divorced

Case 458 / Dr. Bob

Six foot tall, thin, with a brush of gray in his thick curly hair, tight jeans, cowboy boots, one diamond earring, a Bugs Bunny necktie and a medical degree from an Ivy League school, Dr. Bob doesn’t convey the image of a surgeon.

“I don’t think my divorce damaged me.” He begins. “It was such a relief. Everybody said it was going to take me two or three years to recover. It took me two days to get over it. Maybe I’m kidding myself.”

It’s after hours and we’re in his office. The setting is intimate with pharmaceutical catalogues, bone diagrams, a pop-open heart with arteries, two Sylvester Cats and one Daffy Duck, all sitting on Dr. Bob’s cluttered desk.

I realize he’s speaking, I had gotten lost in the décor. Looney Tunes is my favorite theme.

“Being in the marriage was very draining. I came home every night to be criticized. Everything about my being was wrong.” He pours white lotion into his palm and massages his hands carefully as if seeing them for the first time. He appears lost in his recollections.