By John E. Carey
Peace and Freedom
February 12, 2007
OK Men! I am going to improve your sex life on Valentine’s Day. No kidding. Guaranteed. Forget Doctor Ruth. On Valentine’s Day listen to your Uncle John. Or more correctly, your Great Uncle Arthur who was a genius and my Father.
I know my Dad was a genius because my Mom told me. And Dad died, unfortunately, way before Mom and she told me that stretch of her life without him was “barren.” She had Alzheimer’s disease near the end and she could only remember her life up until the time my Dad passed away. Nothing else had meaning.
So we are dealing with a very serious project here class so listen to your professor.
I keep telling people my Dad was a genius and that this mental gift is past down through the generations. When I tell this to older folks they look doubtful because they knew HIM.
When I explain this genetic gift concept to the younger generation they look doubtful because they know ME!
Anyway, I digress.
So let Uncle John just take a stab at the man’s “goal” in giving a gift on Valentine’s.
The goal is this, from your bride, steady girl or the guy next door (you pick) you want to hear, “Oh (fill in your name) YOU are a GENIUS!”
That’s the goal and that will improve your sex life at least on this one day. Nobody, not even Doctor Ruth, can fix your sex life forever, Rube, so forget about that fantasy.
Now, you are going to need two gifts. One is the heavy gift. If you have the money and the inclination, this gift is the lollapalooza. We’ll just call this “thing “ “bling.”
The other gift is all about what John Madden calls “trickeration.” The second gift lives in the ether of slight of hand. This is an inexpensive, unobtrusive gift. This is where you lower expectations.
You gotta use your bean to get this right so, as they say in the military, listen up.
My Dad’s special form of “trickeration” that earned him the title of genius for 40 straight years was this. He’d buy a schlock looking box of candy. The box had to be big and heart shaped and covered in red felt.
I think the candy he bought came from a company called “Fanny Farmer,” which, as I look back, is a great name for a candy company because this candy could add acres to your backside in a few week. By March 17, Saint Patrick’s Day, the next time my Dad would roll out one of his love gags, my Mom would be on a diet.
The day before Valentine’s Day, my Dad would open the candy box, very carefully tweezer the candy out of the foil covered “special goodie.” Then in that foil he’d put the bling. Like a gold earring. It doesn’t even have to be both earrings: when she finds this one she knows you’ll come across with its mate.
This got my Dad the “Genius” title for 40 straight years.
I was about six when he let me in on this gag. After he got the chocolate out of the foil he explained the whole deal to me; I ate the one piece of chocolate and he swore me to secrecy.
Now, he had been in the FBI so he could get that box back to factory condition without breaking a sweat.
The first year you try this, you have to be alert that the lowering of expectations doesn’t drive your mate into depression or rage. So get the gun lock on the 357 before you run this scam the first time. If you don’t do this right, you could be dead meat.
My friend (the same one that had to beg his wife for sex) put a gold bracelet at the bottom of a bowl of Cheerios one Valentine’s Day. His wife was new to the “lower expectations and delight with bling” stich (this is Yiddish slang I need help with…).
When he explained that his gift was that “I made you breakfast” the woman blew like Mount Pinatubo.
Oh, the humanity.
She called 911 after she attacked him and before he could get the bling dried off and explained, a guy in a blue uniform was reading him his rights . Before you know it, his kids told me, he was wearing bling of his own: handcuffs care of the arresting officer.
I had to bail his Fanny Farmer out of the calaboose that time. The next week I helped him move.
So this gag works and you will be a smiling genius but don’t blow it the first time. If you screw the pooch you’ll need a dog to keep you warm this February 14 and maybe forever. Good sex has limits, but sex denial is eternal.
My Dad had this lower expectations and amaze like Karnak deal down to a science and my Mom played dumb every year so they were happy ever after.
Now, back to when I was 6 years old. My Dad pulled off his magic, he earned his title of genius again, and my much older brother said, “Maybe we’ll get that little sister now.”
He knew way more about how this deal worked than I did…..
Read “The Wife Made Him Beg For Sex” at: