I try to avoid scandal and gossip for the most part, but a snippet in the (for lack of a better term) gossip column of yesterday’s Columbus Dispatch caught my eye. To my horror, none other than Neal Schon has been implicated in a rather sordid affair with the White House party crasher chick. I think he could do better, but that’s neither here nor there. Granted, Neal Schon is probably the finest living guitarist on the planet today, (and nothing would change my opinion on that one) but that doesn’t mean one should look to him as some kind of moral example. If anyone were tempted to be a tomcat, I can see how Neal Schon would be- he’s still a good looking guy, even though he’s well into geezer territory, he’s a phenomenal songwriter and guitar player, and he has money to burn, etc. He can pick and choose his women freely. I find it hard to imagine too many women (yours truly included) who would have the moral fortitude to say no to a dude like that, even if you were well aware that regardless of whatever dalliances you get to enjoy, the relationship itself will almost assuredly turn out to be temporary. In other words, I don’t know too many women, especially Journey fans of cougar age, who would turn down an opportunity to get busy with Neal Schon.
I think in some ways my troll-like appearance and lack of material success has helped me maintain some kind of morality, especially in recent years. I’m not tempted to drop everything and take off with a hot rock legend, but there is more to the story. I’d never be offered the opportunity in a million years. It can’t be a temptation if it’s an impossibility. Jerry has his faults, but I’m lucky to have an old man with hair and teeth who is gainfully employed.
Any dude I could scrounge at my advanced age, with my rather pathetic bait, would more than likely be a downgrade. I am not digging correctional institute inmates, dudes 80 and older, the chronically unemployed, or deviants from the sex offender registry, even if there were a chance that they might have working Johnsons. I’d much rather use my imagination and battery operated assistance like I already do than to stoop to an even lower level. I hate to say it, but there ain’t no Coupe deVille in any Cracker Jack box I would be able to pick from. Jerry, with his drunken tirades and ED, is definitely no prize, but then again, neither am I.
The silver lining of this dark cloud is: It’s a lot easier to be chaste and moral when you have no access to the alternative. I should really be thankful for my frumpiness and relative poverty when all is said and done. I get to stay out of trouble- if only by default. No moral dilemmas here for me, and that’s a good thing.
I freely admit I don’t have the moral fiber to resist that kind of temptation. If (and this is most certainly in theory) I was some hot chick that every man alive wanted, I would be the first one out there sampling the buffet. If it were raining men, I would be right on out there with a big old bucket. Believe that. I can’t blame Neal Schon for doing exactly the same thing know I would do (only I would, obviously, be banging every hot dude at my disposal) if I had the means. Truth be told, I don’t know very many people, when given the means, would be able to resist. The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak- especially if the flesh is hot and has plenty of cash and popularity. Yeah, you know it’s morally wrong and you might even feel guilty, but at the end of the day I know I don’t have that kind of fortitude.
Nobody in their right mind is going to settle for last night’s leftovers when you’re having gourmet dinners delivered to your door.
Perhaps it’s wrong for me to put a theological spin on things, especially with the clear and ever present knowledge that a lot of my outward moral behavior is by default, but maybe this is one of the things Jesus is talking about in the Lord’s Prayer. Lead us not into temptation. I know all too well if I were able to get close enough to that kind of temptation- hot dudes, sordid affairs, etc. that I would fall right on in.
That’s not to say I avoid temptation altogether. As much as I would like to say otherwise, even though chastity is the least of my worries (by default), I am tempted by a lot of other things. I am tempted to be judgmental and sarcastic- even though I don’t have any kind of inherent virtue apart from the grace of God. Left to my own devices I know full well I am a vindictive, vengeful, greedy, sarcastic bitch. As hard as it is to take sometimes, I should be more thankful for my situation and shortcomings- if only to be reminded of my proper place.
I can’t point a derisive finger at Neal Schon or throw stones at his current paramour. I’ve probably done far worse (though much more privately) in my lifetime than either of them. I live in the glass house, and I have skeletons aplenty in my closets. The major difference is that because of my frumpiness, poverty and obscurity nobody cares. I’m thankful for that too. What happened in the ’93 Camry stays in the Camry, you know?
The Camry tells no tales. I am very thankful for this fact.
I even have a certain amount of pity for serial fornicators. Even though it has been a very long time ago, I do know the thrill and the excitement of the pursuit of forbidden fruit. It’s a hell of a rush- until the excitement dies, the other party decides to chase something else, and all you have left is shame and regret and a faded memory. I know all too well the embarrassment of having done ridiculous things under the spell of temporary lust. It’s not rational. Following one’s heart- or one’s desires I should say- can lead one to act like a horse’s ass.
Maybe there is more to the story for these lovers. I know, it’s like a car wreck. You don’t want to watch but you can’t help it. Everyone wants dirty laundry (to quote Don Henley) and it’s particularly juicy when it comes from a highly unlikely and shocking source. Perhaps there is more to this sordid saga than simply animal attraction. Perhaps they truly do love each other. Sending the cuckolded husband a pic of one’s junk is probably not the most tactful move, but I have to admit, it is funny. I wouldn’t mind a peek myself.