There was a time a hundred years ago or more when I believed whatever anyone said in a chat room or online conversation anywhere.

If we all wore nametags mine would read, "Village Idiot".

My life would have turned out so differently if I were born a good-looking guy. Or was rich. Or even smart. Instead I was the funny one that nobody invited to their birthday parties. The life of a clown. While I was the class clown in high school and had no problem cracking up my fellow students I would get extremely shy in front of anyone with a uterus. Especially if they were beautiful. I still have problems with gorgeous women. Not that I don't enjoy looking at them but it's the expression on their face when they catch me staring.

I wonder if George Clooney is shy in front of anyone. Any lady on the planet. Did Brad Pitt clam up in front of Angelina when he first met her? Is it normal to be somewhat of a clod in front of hot women? It is for me.

Life would be so much easier if I could just read a woman's mind. That way when she smiles I'll know if it's a smile that says, "I am being pleasant only so you don't hurt me." or is she about to ask me for help with her resume or her car? Is it ever a smile that reflects an interest in me? Maybe it's better I never know. Life is depressing enough already.

I've dabbled with a few online dating services. It inevitably comes down to one basic fact of life; beautiful women want beautiful men with tons of money and ugly women will settle just for the money. I have neither. What is a Village Idiot to do?

I suppose if God meant for me to have an active sex life he would have blessed me with both testicles. I can't tell you how many times that would have come in handy!

There's no question I'm a slow learner. No matter how many times I am spurned I still continue to give out my business card like they were hits of Ecstasy. Then when she doesn't call I convince myself that it's a waste of time to even flirt and vow never to hand out my card again or even strike up an animated conversation with a beautiful woman. Then the first time I run into some gorgeous nymph I fall back into making an ass out of myself. I don't think I'm alone in that. Why can't I see the reality of my life? I'm 57 years old, out of work, broke and living in the back of a '92 Previa van. What's not to understand?

No matter how much I write about this it always comes down to one reality; beautiful women excite me when they smile. When they breathe. How their hips dance slowly to a Latin beat when they walk. The sound of their voice passing through lips blessed by God. My heart skips a beat when they even turn my way. For just a split second I am George Clooney outside his Italian villa. I am Brad Pitt with Angelina on his arm. I am all men cool and then I am the Village Idiot again. The cycle repeats itself continually. Every day of the year. Every year of my life.

Men and women play the same games. The only difference is women are much smarter than us and play so much better. It's like comparing Anna Kornikova to a chimp with a racket. Getting rejected by a beautiful woman is disheartening but understandable. That doesn't make it any less painful. Just easier to cope with.

It's a wonder women have put up with us men this long.

If the genetic scientists can ever create a penis in a Petri dish we're all in serious trouble.

My name is Tom.

I am the Village Idiot. 

For more comical info on the writer of this blog go to:  WorldHumour.bravehost.com

Tom Neuhoff
World Humour
"Funnier Than You"

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