What I Miss in Formality

I don't dress up much. This may dismay my mother, who spent many of my visits to her house during my high school years sizing me for coats of various exotic materials. Camel Hair, Suede, etc. The one that sticks in my memory had a label insisting its fabric was somehow related to trees. But now, I find the idea a bit repellent. I can do many things well. Potentially in the top percentile. Code. Cover the ass of an insane College Pseudo-Marching Band. Write Pseudo-intellectual blogs. But not dress up. I can dress in the style of Bentley, but not in the style of Klein or Karan.

But I do miss the ability to behave formally, in respects. I have no desire to sip from "flutes" or sit in "chairs". A bunch of white bourgeois-wanna-bes gyrating wildly in suits and dresses to the latest hip-hop fusion is hardly my idea of a good time.

What I do miss is the ability to lead a woman around with my hand in the small of her back. Trivial? Maybe. But also incredible. Such a feeling of trust and intimate communication to find someone willing and able you to follow you from the front.