Feeling Frisky? Please Make an Appointment

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Well, it’s started happening to me. I had an appointment with the little woman and I forgot about it….

I had my suspicions a while back, but this morning sealed it: I must be going senile. When I woke up this morning, I spent five minutes searching all over my house for my glasses all the while I was wearing them. I guess that’s absolute proof that I’m over the hill. It truly is a sad day in the Rogers’ household.

Up until today, I had always attributed my forgetfulness to various factors: Hangover; wild youth; Mania. But no! Not anymore. The proof’s in the pudding.

Why, it just seems like the other day I was a jumping and skipping little boy chasing butterflies. Never mind that I was doing that while I was supposed to be playing baseball for my dad’s Little League team!

Ah those memories!

I remember one special game. I think I was about seven years old. I was in right field. That’s where the coach (my dad — or your dad, as the case may be) always put their most hopeless player.

In the middle of the game, nature called! “What the heck!” I thought, “No one ever hits the ball into right field!” And so I turned around and watered the grass. I’ll never forget the shouts of joy and the cheering on from my team-mates and my dad as some kid hit the ball into right field as I was busy and looking the other way!

My baseball team. Dad as head coach.
My older brother, Bob (front, second from left) the best player on the team.
And me (front row, far right) the worst player on the team.
Wonderful memories… We lost every game that year!

I quickly tinkled down my pant leg. I searched for my glove — All baseball players have to have a glove — can’t touch the ball without a glove! And just as I was about to make the game-saving spectacular long throw to get the guy out just as he slid into home plate on a in-the-park homerun, the centerfielder stole my thunder and picked up the ball and hit the ‘cut-off’ man.

“What a waste! I could have picked the runner off! Oh well! There’s always tomorrow!” and, “I wonder what mom’s making for dinner?” I thought.

But those days are long gone.

I used to have a memory like a steel trap! Names! Numbers! Anything! You just tell it to me once and I could remember it. But not anymore.

I suppose I should have seen it coming a while back when I stopped waking up “feeling young” every morning.

When guys are young, we can get motivated at a mere moments notice. But as we get older, we have to make a schedule and add it into our appointment calendar.

“You’ve got that ‘lovin’ feeling’?" We answer our better half… "Fine… I understand…. Let’s see today is Tuesday. I think I could schedule you in by Friday at, say, five-thirty? How’s that?” Then we write it down in our schedule book. We don’t drink for the next few nights. And we go to the sports gym the next two days and try to watch some “Beach Trash” garbage TV show sixty minutes before the scheduled time in order to get “mentally prepared.”

I hear from some of my older guy friends that even watching “Beach Trash” on TV loses it’s effect over time.

It’s not only you watching the girls! It’s them watching you, too, that has a huge effect on your, um, “positive self image.”

When you are a young buck, beautiful girls look at you and you can see a twinkle in their eye. I call it a twinkle. You know, kind of like that twinkle that your favorite fishing lure has. You know, the twinkle of that Large-Mouthed Bass "killer" lure? Those large-mouth Bass just can’t resist that twinkle!

Kinda like us large-mouthed guys. We can’t resist that twinkle either!

But, as with all things, we must try to gracefully give up the treasures of youth: The good looks, the girls, the wild nights, the disco inferno…. Those days are long gone.

Of course I was going to end this article with some snappy, funny, little remark that would bring a smile to you, my dear reader, but I can’t remember what it was.

Oh well, it’ll come back to me later on…

Ah! Now I remember! Now that I’ve found my glasses I have to find the TV tuner! I want to watch that TV show!… Um… What’s it called? You know, that “Beach Trash" show?

What channel was that on? I need to watch it. I think I have an appointment.

Mike (in Tokyo) Rogers [send him mail] was born and raised in the USA and moved to Japan in 1984. He has worked as an independent writer, producer, and personality in the mass media for nearly 30 years.

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