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Why Men Secretly Like To...

Why Men Secretly Like To...
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Larry Talbot, guest writer on this flickr site, has given me permission to use some of the images I've taken of him.

Here he is, kicking back in his palatial open air living room. He has a mansion now, tucked away in a sheltered spot somewhere on cliffs overlooking the Black Sea. I have never asked him where he made his fortune, although I have heard rumors it involved Crazy Glue, chickens and vast quantities of mattress ticking. (Frankly, I'm not sure I want to know any of the details.) Anyway, Larry tells me that in this image the breezes were blowing and the guitars were rocking as he listened through his prized Bose earphones.

"My manservant, Olaf took it," Larry told me. "I was listening to ZZ Top's Tush."

Then he told me "This is EXACTLY what my face looks like."

I told him "Well...yeah, Larry. it's a PHOTOGRAPH of your face."

He just shook his head like he'd known all along I would never, indeed could never, understand. " Dorky Von Dweebermeister. This is a depiction of what good music feels like as it washes over the male spirit. The processing: the selective blur, the blend of drawing and photograph...the intensity on the face! It's all part and parcel of the same FEELING."

Larry illustrated his words by waving quivering fingers in a dramatic fashion a few inches away from his body, like there was a life sized vertical harp there. Since he was wearing a voluminous crimson robe at the time, it looked a little silly to me. Larry paused to take a sip of a deep red liquid from an exquisitely crafted goblet before settling back into his chair with a satisfied sigh.

I was still smarting over that 'Mr. Dorky Von Dweebermeister' shot, so I fixed him with my very blankest stare. (Larry hates the whole passive aggressive trip...which is why I do it. Grant me the small pleasures, will you?)

But Larry just rolled his eyes and passed me a disc with this mini-essay on it. He told me he wrote this opus some years ago, as you can tell by the historical reference to Dancing With The Stars.

Today's stupid Helium topic is...


by L. Talbot

Nothing stirs a male soul (okay...THIS male soul) like a great guitar riff or a smoking drum solo. As long it's just you and me here and you PROMISE not to tell anyone...let me tell you a secret. Men LOVE to long as we're alone and better than 50% convinced there are no security cameras watching and/or recording us.

But when we're in public it's a different proposition altogether.


In public people can SEE us.

While on the inside we may feel like John O'Hurley on Dancing With The Stars we’re convinced we look more like Jerry Lewis. We are watching our dance partner carefully in case she is either embarrassed or trying to contain gales of laughter.

Every guy remembers being twelve…

(This is where I need you, dear reader, to envision pages of a calendar spinning and ripping off in a "time tunnel" wind while violins play an ethereal tune to show that we are going back...back in time.) Are you with me?


I am standing beside all the other 12 year old guys, dutifully supporting my portion of the gym wall, looking at the girls on the other side of the gym who are doing much the same thing.

A few of the popular kids are dancing along with a handful of brave souls who just don't care what anyone thinks. I am standing there beside Brad Dennison and Dean Thorpe (who my friends and I call Dean "Throw-Up" cause some gags just never get old). My eyes are fixed on Jennifer Patterson.

There's an angelic light shining on her from above. It highlights her golden hair, her soft blue eyes and those two coma shaped dimples that appear only when she smiles.

Jennifer Patterson sits two seats in front of me in Mrs. Hall's third period math class and well - Jennifer Patterson just smells SO good.

"Go on," Brad dares me. "Ask her."

I have confided the secret ache in my heart to both Brad and Dean Throw-Up against my better judgment.

"Yeah," urges Dean. "She's just, like, standing there."

My heart starts to pound and my vision blurs. My cheeks are burning and I begin desperately hoping they can't see it.

Brad gives me a little push and what amounts to an encouraging nod.

I step backward, grasping desperately for my safe patch of wall, which Dean Throw-Up moves quickly to occupy.

I shoot him a venomous look. What are they doing to me?

Brad shoves me again and hisses "GO!"

My feet are carrying me across the gym and I can feel hundreds of eyes burning into my back as the guys note one of their own breaking away from the herd. I can only see the girls on the other side of the gym looking at me with the beginnings of smiles forming in their eyes.

I am considering planes crashing into the ground trailing black smoke. I am thinking about car crashes complete and public humiliation. The end of my life. I can hear the blood pounding in my ears and my knees are a little weaker than I'd like.

I briefly consider walking right by Jennifer and continuing on to the bathroom, where I will very likely throw up.

But a madness seizes me.

Suddenly I am standing in front of Jennifer with a bowling ball in my throat.

The DJ starts to play "Albert Flasher" by the Guess Who.

My lips move wordlessly.

Jennifer Patterson cocks an eyebrow.

All of her friends are looking at me. I can feel my friends looking at me.

I croak...something.

I put out my hand and Jennifer takes it and we go out to the dance floor together. (God bless Jennifer.)

Every man's life has a Jennifer Patterson in it somewhere.

We dance secretly because we suspect that if we did it in public we'd be accused of having standing seizures. We are 79.44567% certain that there are hundreds of critical eyes fixed on us. We fear looking stupid in front of the women and dread giving ridicule ammo to our fellow men.

Does that mean that we won't do the happy Snoopy dance when Golden Earring's Radar Love comes on and we're CERTAIN we are alone? Of course not. We will. It’s just like that ‘tree falling in the forest when there’s no one there to see it.’ You’ll never know for sure because you'll never be there when it happens. Not ever.

We're also likely to throw in a little air guitar and even a few air drums to demonstrate to our own souls that we do indeed, have the music in us, and no – we’re not as old as that little snot bag packer at the grocery store seems to think we are.

So yeah. We dance. Sometimes we do it in the shower…sometimes we do in in the office…sometimes we do it in our minds.

Now you know.

Just don’t tell anyone. Or I WILL find you.


Date: 2010-10-08 05:45:24

Why Men Secretly Like To Dance Larry Talbot Music Making Music Listening to Music What Music feels like on the heart Larry's Great Bose earphones Zippity Doo Dah Listening to Hot Guitar riffs Never gonna be 18 again

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magic_fella 2010-10-08 06:20:52
I do it on the shower!
Frollojpn 2010-10-08 06:47:13
It'a a bad case of happy feet... what are ya gonna do?
steeladw 2010-10-08 07:13:38
(softly chuckling and shaking my head side to side)
I missed the reference to the white man's overbite when you do the Snoopy Dance. C'mon. 'fess up.
alan shapiro photography 2010-10-08 07:37:07
Super, as usual, David.
John Levanen 2010-10-08 08:28:48
♪♫ "I won't dance, don't ask me..." ♫ The story brings back unsettling memories of when I was 12-13, and in my home town we were forced to participate in square dancing, which was supposed to keep us off the streets or something. I mean, Jeez, it was freakin' rural Ohio, and we weren't old enough to drive, so what did they think was gonna happen? Square dancing. To me, it was the work of Satan and his minions. Anyway, you can't beat two great stories for the price of one. Oh, yeah, the photo. The first thing that came to mind was Van Gogh on acid. So I'll stick with that. Great facial capture and colors, David! Perfectly matched with the words.
adjoining nerve 2010-10-08 08:29:46
*Cak Noor* 2010-10-08 09:14:49
Cool photo and great story, David. Takes me back to all the dances at the high school gym...dancing to "Ballroom Blitz" , "The boys are back in town". & "Crocodile rock" If only we knew then what we know now, we'd dance a lot more and not care what people think...
denisetaylor☼ 2010-10-08 10:04:51
Hah! Well done!
Monica de Moss photog 2010-10-08 10:12:42
Excellent stuff!! Always great your captions too :))
`miRЯim ☮ 2010-10-08 13:54:27
Your writings always make me laugh!
Izzy Standbridge 2010-10-08 14:50:00
this is hilarious.. love the treatment!
Rezoan Ratul 2010-10-08 16:04:14
Great stuff. Reminds of the time at school when they tried to make dance lessons compulsory. All the boys bunked off!

Must say this guy Larry whatsisname is a lot better that that magic_fella geezer.
Dave Hilditch Photography 2010-10-08 19:30:37
Larry Talbot . . . my newest hero .

great shot of him BTW - ;~]
TheWalkinMan 2010-10-08 22:55:36
Oh, I know this guy!
Kiki FL 2010-10-08 23:08:16
Truly unique processing and really eye-catching!
Peggy Collins 2010-10-08 23:50:33
I would *so* dance with Larry.
Sharon Young / Still Standing 2010-10-09 01:35:59
Larry looks vaguely familiar, I think I've met him somewhere.
labels_30 2010-10-09 01:48:17
Thanks very much Larry. School Dances is a memory I thought I had managed to bury VERY deeply.
Now, I can hear that shrill voice in my head again .. "Come on boys. Find a partner. Don't be shy"


Oh. Nice piccy btw :-)
Tommy McCormick 2010-10-09 21:06:25
unfortunately I don't have time to read your fascinating stories, will catch up later this mounth,
interesting treatment on this one
bandigy-v2.0 2010-10-15 22:46:41
Will come back to read more .
mikescottnz 2011-12-20 14:41:33

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