Other posts related to innocence

How a country girl reignited my fire

Lincoln Adams | November 4, 2009 @ 9:15 am

After checking into my hotel I noticed it had a faux fireplace, which had me squeeing in joy. Sure it’s a fake, but a fireplace is a fireplace, and I will take it one way or the other. :ggrin:

And then, of course, it suddenly stopped working. :rant:

No matter what I did, the thing would NOT TURN ON at all, so I went downstairs to the front desk to seek help. It was around 10 at night, so I wasn’t expecting much though. A very pretty girl was there, with long raven black hair and mocha skin, currently taking a call on the phone. After she hung up, she asked what she could do for me.

:D

“Yeah, I’m an idiot, but I’m trying to get my fireplace working and I can’t figure out what I’m doing wrong. I pressed all the buttons on the remote here and nothing’s happening.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry about that. Let me come up with you, and we’ll see if we can’t get it going again.”

“Uh… sure, that’d be great.” She was going to come with me to my hotel room??

She followed me up the stairs, and I could feel my ears burning the way they always do when a beautiful girl gets in close proximity to me. We talked a little on the way up, though my mind was racing as I tried to furiously remember where I had left my teddy bear, and if I could get to it fast enough to hide it before she saw it.

We finally entered the room, and I showed her the fireplace. She looked around and tried the remote a few times while I watched her. I noticed the teddy was on the bed, so I casually moved back, and quickly tucked him under the covers. Whew. Sorry Koko, but I gotta be a man tonight.

I walked up beside her again as we both looked at the nonworking fireplace. She started laughing.

“Well it’s definitely not you. I can’t get it to work either. Let me call maintenance and then go see if I can get an instruction manual. I’ll be right back.”

“Sure!”

When she left, I quickly ran to my laptop and IMed to whoever I was chatting with then:

“OMG there’s a beautiful girl in my room and she’s trying to light my fire!!!111 BRB!!!”

She came back a minute or two later with the manual, and started reading the instructions. I went around the fireplace to see if there were any switches too, then went back to her.

“What does the manual say?”

“Well…” She leaned her head over and shared the manual with me, her hair brushing over my arm and shoulders.

Oh mercy mommy. :toohot:

I looked at the manual but I couldn’t see any words.

“Hmm,” she went on, oblivious to the fact that my body temperature had gone up 100 degrees, “It says to pull the plug and leave it off for 5 minutes. Sometimes it just needs to warm up before it will go on.”

Oh we’re warmed up here, believe me.

“Oh, ok, I’ll go pull the plug then.”

While I pulled the plug she got on her knees and felt around for a switch, then looked at the manual again. Completely girlie-like, completely adorable. I resisted the damned near overwhelming urge to drop beside her and play with her hair. My goodness, so adorable…

As I watched her in loving adoration, it struck me just how trusting she had been. She didn’t mind being close to me, didn’t mind that she was alone with a strange man who could have just as easily locked the room to have his way with her. And she didn’t mind… talking to me either.

The experience was completely new to me. I was too used to seeing women refusing to even acknowledge my existence, and those few times when they did acknowledge it, my presence was always welcomed with derision and scorn. But this? What was this about? I know it’s her job and all, but she was certainly going above and beyond anything I ever expected. Did she not find me hideous? Am I not repugnant and disgusting to behold? Indeed I had glanced at the mirror in my room a few times since she had been here, and I hated what I saw. Yet she didn’t mind my company at all.

After I pulled the plug we both sat and chatted for a while. She had been working at the hotel for a few years and was a local. She gets bored at times, but she does prefer and enjoy the peace and quiet of the countryside. I talked a little about my background and she showed genuine curiosity about me and what I did. A few minutes flew by, and we tried the fireplace again. Still no luck.

“I’m so sorry, I really hoped I would have gotten this fixed for you.” She patted and held my arm. Somewhere in the distance I could hear a chorus of angels singing.

I love you, marry me please?

“Oh it’s no problem, you really went out of your way to help me, and I can’t tell you how much I appreciate that.”

“It’s no trouble at all. I’ll leave a note for the manager to check again and if it still doesn’t work we’ll have it replaced. You’ll be here for a few days?”

“Yeah, till Wednesday.”

“Great, we should definitely have it fixed or replaced by the next morning.”

“Thanks so much.”

She smiled warmly as I held the door for her, and then she was gone.

I thought about chasing after her. But what would I say? She was a local, and thus hundreds of miles away from where I really lived. And I was so love starved that I wondered if I was reading far too much into her behavior, and if I had asked her out for coffee or whatever, she would have given me the cold shoulder then. The rejection would have crushed me.

I replayed her sweet smile in my head, her hand on my arm and squeezing ever so gently, choosing to enjoy the hospitality I had received and simply accept it at that. I happened to look up and just about jumped out of my skin when I saw the fireplace was on again.

What the!??

It had just inexplicably turned on again. She had lit my fire after all. :wub:

I haven’t seen her since though, and I leave for home again tomorrow morning, but before I check out I’ll stop one more time and see if I can’t get her email at least.

But even if not, I don’t think she’ll ever realize the impact she had on me. Indeed, since I’ve been here, I’ve noticed I don’t draw the kind of reaction I see from women back home, and I wonder if the reason it’s been so difficult to find a sweet girl has more to do about location than any character flaw of mine (which are too numerous to count). Even at restaurants here, I’ve seen one or two pretty looking girls actually… smile at me. And not platonic either, I mean the kind of smile I would see from someone when I’ve just made their day. :blink:

And all I can think to myself is: why the @#$% aren’t these girls using eHarmony? It seems that if I’m going to find a girl who is sugar and spice and everything nice, then I was going to have to do this the old fashioned way: get up off my sweet love biscuits and travel to meet these women in the real world instead. The further away from home, the better.

But at least for now, this country girl with her sweet demeanor and hospitality helped me believe again that women like her still existed, full of life and innocence and wubbie wubs. She gave me hope again.



When Women Emulate Men

Lincoln Adams | April 19, 2007 @ 11:58 pm

One of my slim shady friends shared a link (warning: profanity) listing the terms and rules of a forum for Marine wives.

Wow. Nothing quite like seeing a bunch of catty women making like they also carry a set of balls and a rifle just cuz they married a Marine.

I don’t know about you, but I for one happen to LIKE a snuggle filled, Happy Kitty Hug Land. This world is an ugly, mean and nasty place, multiplied by a factor of 10 if you’re a Marine. Coming home to Happy Kitty Hug Land can help remind us that there are still some good things left in this world. We cherish the kind of innocence, love and affection that only a good womanly woman can provide.

Here’s some advice for you gals. Whether we’re Marines or not, we likes our wimmins to be, well, wimmins. We like you to keep your hair long and bat your eyelashes at us and wear dresses and do cute, adorable girlie things. If we were drawn to those who take pride in picking their noses, letting one rip and dropping f-bombs when the team we’re rooting for is losing, we wouldn’t be sharing our beds with you. So please, save the profanity, the spitting, and the ass scratching for us men, and be the ladies that us men so desperately need you to be.