There are things I shouldn't write about...

...and these comments involve two of them, particularly at a time when I'm wondering if I have ever understood (or ever will understand) women.

More and more often -- perhaps because I'm sensitized to it by having been severely bitten -- there are two things many women say and feel that just strike me as plain wrong.

The first we might call "the Security Syndrome," which is totally at odds with the "I am Woman, Strong and Independent, Syndrome." I know damn well I have been ditched by at least two potential Mrs Scribblers because I couldn't hack being sole -- and generous -- support of either a woman alone or a woman plus bambini.

Not that I wouldn't have showered Eastern Girl or "Miss Wonderly" with all the money I could earn. I, like many men, am wired to support those we love, even if it means changing jobs or taking on the late-night second gig as a burrito-wrapper at Taco Bell.

But I didn't buy Microsoft stock when it was first offered, nor have I ever worked for a company with generous stock options. I didn't inherit wealth, either.

Eastern Girl was used to money, and I don't blame her for being uncomfortable with the notion that I might consume more than I contributed. Had the tables been turned, I would not have minded at all, but again, when you don't know how to go from luxury to very modest living, it's difficult to deal with.

"Miss Wonderly" found guys with more coin who could giver her more, in a material sense, than I could.

PARENTHETICAL WHAT'S-LOVE-GOT-TO-DO-WITH-IT NOTE: I refuse to get into the notions of desire and affection. You can't eat or wear either. They mean more, it seems, to monetarily challenged but loving males than they do females with the tools to attract more tangible expressions of affection.

This is all a million miles away from what the same women will say when it suits them. They claim they'll do the live-in-a-cardboard-box gig For Love. As long as they can't trade the Current Guy in for someone who has excessive spondulicks.

But this is only part of what's bugging me. In fact, I can't say I wouldn't roll over on my back and waggle my paws for a wealthy dame, even if not dazzled by her other charms. Somehow, I have never attracted that kind of attention....

The other thing that bugs me is women telling each other that they need various kinds of surgical enhancements to be attractive. Among them, of course, what the late and much-missed Frank Zappa called the "silicone beef-up."

The fact that, when cornered, they blame men for the need to nip, tuck, enhance, increase, is totally irrelevant. Untrue, too.

"Miss Wonderly" was of the opinion I might find her undesirable when I viewed her in a state of deshabille. The problem? Her body carried the normal marks of child-bearing and (sorry!) age.

These had no negative effect on me, as similar "flaws" on other women failed to decrease my desire.

And I told them so, each and every one.

PARENTHETICAL FLASHBACK TO THE EARLY 80s NOTE: There was a time when I photographed a number of women in -- shall we say -- an unclad state for our mutual enjoyment. One who approached me had had a rather spectacular augmentation of her God-given resources. For me, it was a definite turn-off. She was far more attractive with her original small breasts. It was a matter of proportion and -- forgive me -- tactile sensation.

The men with whom I have discussed the concept of female alterations and adjustments have agreed, to a man, that we prefer natural, loving women to rebuilt huntresses out for the kill.

It is entirely possible that the guys with big bucks want physical perfection in return for their investment, but I wouldn't know about that. I don't approve of either men who buy women or women who allow themselves to be bought.

If I were to sum up all this babbling, I'd say that men -- the men I know -- are far more accepting and far less judgmental than too many women.

We don't give a happy damn about breast sizes, wrinkles, scars and sags, when we find the female that makes our hearts sing.

Too often, the women that affect us seem more interested in a ten-inch bank account than a loving, devoted personality.

If you -- especially the women -- wish to disagree, please accept my invitation to diss me, tell me how wrong I am, tell me what a creep I am.

But if you do, please tell me also why a guy who would crawl over broken glass to be with a woman who, flaws and all, he cherishes and, within his limits, would try to protect and care for, is alone on the latest of a thousand Saturday nights, okay?

After all, I -- who loved and would have suffered much to make either Eastern Girl or "Miss Wonderly" (both of whom told me they wanted to be with me) happy, am here by myself, and both of them are enjoying the attentions of others....