But love is blind,

And lovers cannot see

The pretty follies

That themselves commit.

— Shakespeare

These follies are committed both by lovers to each other, usually involving a third party that happens to be present. Folly is only committed by amateurs. A true professional is skilful enough not to commit any folly or, if he does, it’s so quickly corrected that none’s the wiser.

Amateurs exist all around us, and they end up paying the price. Case is point. A few months ago a friend of mine told me how his wife woke him up from a very deep sleep and, as he struggled to become ‘aware’, he inadvertently called out the name of another woman. Big mistake, and one only made by an amateur. A true professional would never do that.

I jokingly told him how fortunate he was that she didn’t hit him broadside his head with a Dutch pot or pour hot oil down his ears as he slept. Now, I am by no means condoning infidelity, but the fact is, it exists, and on a large scale too, committed by both men and women. So if you’re going to do it, at least be professional and not be an amateur.

We’ll see more about that right after these responses to what I had to say about, ‘Act your age’.

Tony,

Yes, it’s generally a natural norm for men to gravitate to younger girls/women for various reasons. One thing is, they look fresh and good. These days, for some of the younger females, it has to do with financial interests. However, I’m happy to know that the age of consent here is 16, unlike some other countries.

Paulette

Teerob,

They say that age is just a number, but numbers can be confusing if you’re not good at maths. A wise man once said, “For a man to be truly happy he must never get involved with a much younger woman.” I have proven that, for my life has been turned upside down because of that indiscretion. I’m always trying to keep up, catch up, stay up, and it’s exhausting.

Robert

Calling out the wrong name is the true sign of a romantic amateur, and even women fall prey to it, especially in the throes of passion. That may be their fatal indiscretion. Oh, how many men have been called Peter when their name is Paul. That’s why some women only have affairs with men who have the same name as their husbands. Either that or they make sure that they use only generic names; like Sugar, Honey, Darling, Sweetheart, or something like that. Calling the wrong name is truly the mark of a rank amateur and ranks very closely with coming home with lipstick on your collar.

“Don’t tell me that men really go home with lipstick on their collar?” people asked incredulously, thinking that it was just an old cliché.

Well, clearly, based on research, they still do, and pay the price. That’s the original amateur. Some men, though, think that they are so smart and overcompensate their folly by trying too hard to erase all evidence of their indiscretion. Still, they are romantic amateurs. They take a shower at the lover’s house, put on back the same clothes that they wore all day, then douse themselves with cologne before going home to their woman. How can you traipse home at 2:00 am reeking of cologne and looking as fresh as when you first left for work in the morning? A true professional would know exactly how to look and smell, even as he masks the scent of his lady love. A true professional would make sure that his wife and lover wear the same perfume. Recently a wife even told her friends: “He is so daft, he even shaved before he came home at three in the morning.”

Whispering on the phone is another giveaway of the romantic amateur. Either that or talking in vague generalities. The phone rings and the wife is right there, so he answers: “Hello…oh, hi…sure…right here… Really? Hmm hm…no problem… Yes, man… same place… that time… me too.”

Then the wife asks: “Who was that, Dear?”

“Oh, just Cedric.”

Yeah right. A professional would just have a normal conversation, even calling out names and speaking in a natural tone instead of being so amateurish.

Then some romantic amateurs try to whisper, even though the spouse is in the same house, in the same room, on the same couch. Whispering only shouts great volumes of guilt, and might as well you admit everything right then and there.

As for admitting guilt, that’s for amateurs. Take the line from Shaggy’s song, “It wasn’t me.” It’s not as if you’re lying, but just not admitting to anything incriminating, that’s all. Lawyers do it all the time. Sure the spouse will say, “Come, we have to talk, I want you to admit everything to me, tell me all about her, how long have you been seeing her, where does she work, where does she live, do you love her? Unburden your soul, admit to your sins and let’s work it out.”

Hey, unless she has on a priest’s robe and you’re in a confessional booth, don’t confess to anything. An amateur will admit to all of the above and wake up in the recovery ward, but a true professional will mix a few grains of salt with the bull manure.

A professional will tell the name, but only the pet name, and never the last name; the street that she lives on, but never the address; the workplace, but the wrong branch; and never ever say that he loves her, ever.

“Oh, Honey, it was only a fling, that’s all.”

I know many romantic amateurs who have admitted to the above, especially the last, and have been banished to the depths of hell for eternity. At least it seems that way, they say.

Romantic amateurs drive their lover’s car. Women are not idiots, and women know when a car belongs to another woman as opposed to a man. So when the amateur is seen in a strange car and is asked, “So, whose car is this?” and he replies, “Oh, it’s Karl’s,” she’ll know that it’s a lie, for that car has a woman’s aura, feel, smell, and touch. An amateur will drive around in a car belonging to ‘Karl’ with maxi-pads in the back seat and still expect his wife to believe that it belongs to a bredrin.

Romantic amateurs check into hotels with their lovers and pay by credit cards, using their real names too. A true professional pays by cash, or lets the lover use her card, then he reimburses her. Then the amateur leaves the credit card receipt laying around, or in his car, or in his pants pocket. The woman will find it, then there’s hell to pay. Either that or it’s, “Honey, Sandals called to say that they overcharged you for the bikini on your credit card last month and want to rectify it.” Oh, oh, you are so busted.

As for that weekend jaunt, only romantic amateurs go away with their lovers on long holiday weekends. A true professional takes the lover during the week, or on a regular weekend to avoid suspicion. The amateur will wait until it’s the weekend of the Independence celebrations, Sumfest weekend, or Heroes’ weekend to take his lover. A true professional takes his spouse on those days and the lover a few weeks after. Even if the spouse suspects, and most know anyway, she won’t care too much. It’s not the cheating that upsets many spouses, but rather the stupidity and amateurish behaviour of the men that really ticks them off. “He must really think that I’m an idiot,” is the common cry of many women.

The romantic amateur professes monogamy. The true professional, though, will admit to his human vulnerability and say, “Listen, I am a man, and I won’t say that I won’t fall prey to temptation, but so far I have not, as I believe in the sanctity of marriage and I love you.” The romantic amateur, though, will say, “Honey, I have never strayed, I will never stray, I only have eyes for you, only you turn me on, and if a beauty queen lay down naked before me I would only think of you and tell her to put on her clothes and get out.” Now that’s the romantic amateur.

My friends, I am not here to judge or condone, but rather differentiate between the romantic amateur and the professional. So mi get it, so a give it. No way could I know these things either, but had to do extensive research. Interestingly, much of my research facts were given to me, not by men, who are mostly amateurs, but by women. Remember, more men than women get caught cheating. Go figure. More time.

seido1yard@gmail.com

Footnote: The football World Cup has come and gone, with today being the final day. It certainly lived up to the promise of high drama, excitement, spills and thrills, disappointment, heartbreak, and triumph. Out of the 48 teams, only one can be the victor, but many others had much to be proud of. A major talking point was the inconsistency of the officiating and alleged political interference, resulting in some people suggesting conspiracy theories favouring the big-name teams. But who can blame them for some calls made by some of the officials were more than questionable. I watched all the matches and sometimes I had to shake my head in disbelief at the decisions made by the officials. That has left a cloud over this World Cup which will linger for a while. At time of writing I don’t know who the winner is, but my bet is on Spain.