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“Ooo, Ooo, Ooo,”


“Why do you promote the degradation of women?”

“You’re speaking to me from ego, and with ego comes neurosis. Only the submissive who has abandoned ego is truly free. I see you’re too concerned what other people think of you. That’s why you speak to me from ego.”

“And you’re not?” she retorted, almost with regret.

“It’s discipline. It’s called a discipline, and with all disciplines it requires practice. Now let me ask you something,” he asked while probing her, looking into her eyes, and searching deeply into the windows of her soul. “Where is the same social outrage when these same practices are being done to a heterosexual male by a woman?”

“Well that’s different. He’s a man!” A collective sigh of horror and disbelief came from the auditorium. Margaret, a reporter, knew how ridiculous it sounded the moment it past her lips. Always a man of composure, he looked at her. But never so composed he would throw out theatrics.

“You come to this seminar and have not researched me?” sounding incredulous. “I wrote a book called Sexual Inequality: The First Glass Ceiling Women Need to Break to Find True Equality.” The room began to clamor with disgust. They could not believe a reporter would go out on an assignment and not know nothing about her subject. Sexual Inequality had become an international bestseller.

“No I had not!” she retorted. The collective gasp of horror once again clamored when they heard her answered.

He was too wily. Most men don’t know, a man gets wit from women. Not just any women, but the feisty kind. Only when you have engaged her, in her arena, the arena of the mind; which expresses itself in words and body language can you conquer her. Learn how to subdue her. It’s liken to being dropped off into the legendary land of the Amazon women. Big, strong, and powerful women. The best analog would be the original Star Trek. How many times had Captain Kirk found himself stranded in strange new worlds; facing strange new people, who wanted to prevent him from getting back to his ship, the Enterprise [In this scenario, the Enterprise or the ship, means manhood]? He never used their weapons or their tools against them, but found alternative sources. Things they lived around everyday. Compounded them together and used these as weapons. When engaging Her, in Her arena, the arena of mind, of conversation, of body language, never, ever, use Her weapons. Seek the alternatives that’s around Her. Never, pick up Her tools. Because in your hands they will feminize you, and make you become petty. Wit and pettiness, are not bedfellows.

He could have never continued with the snarkiness. He was too disciplined. Having cut her, it was time to heal the wound. Turning towards the auditorium, full of attendees, he delivers in a deadpan serious way. “Thanks Margaret, that was an excellent question.” He continued to deliver his speech. He didn’t have to look at her, nor out of the corner of his eye to know; she sighed with relief.

Margaret had been caught off guard. She was rearing for a fight. She had already embarrassed herself and profession, and was going down swinging. But now, this Man, has stirred new found feelings. She was wondering what she had done to deserve his kindness? He certainly wasn’t mean-spirited. He could have had his way with her, with the crowd and all being on his side. That got her to thinking, “Why was she here?” She had heard so much about this guru. The sexual guru to the Stars. That’s what they used to call him back in his younger days. She couldn’t help to be entranced. She looked at him. Looked at him take charge of a room, auditorium rather. He knew his facts. He articulated himself well. He even knew how to throw in the one-liners. She began to imagine what he would do to her if she allowed herself in his hands. Margaret, totally forgot she should be taking notes. She couldn’t help being caught up. Lost in the moment. And seeing, really seeing, what they saw, lost in a room with him. Suddenly Margaret came out of her trance. Now she was a Nervous Nelly. She had let herself go too far. She was a reporter. Objectivity her stock in trade. But that wasn’t the cause why she suddenly had gotten up from the panel to excuse herself. She awoke out of her stupor because she felt her own wetness marticulate down the contours of her leg. She was embarrassed for herself. And subconsciously wondered, “If anyone could tell?” Or even worse, “It would smell?”

Excerpts from A Man Like Him

by Cn