The Women In Ernie's Life

If ever I have the opportunity to be reincarnated, I want to come back as Ernie. Some people want to return as a dog or a horse, some choose to be somebody famous like Churchill, Paul McCartney or Mozart, but for me it’s Ernie.

Ernie who? You may well ask. It doesn’t matter. I never knew his last name. He had a talent like none other I’d witnessed. Not in sports or music, art, business or any other conventional area where talent leaps out at you. His talent was with members of the opposite sex. Girls, women, ladies, females, tarts, chicks, ticas, broads or whatever else they are called by the different generations of men that choose these hackneyed names, Ernie captivated them all. He was truly God’s gift to women.

His gift was a natural mixture of respect, adoration, consideration, warmth and concern, no matter whom the recipient may have been. Young or old, pretty or not blessed (ugly was not a word that Ernie would use), rich or poor, single or married, he treated them all the same. Even on his worse days, and he had plenty of them, he dumbfounded me with the consistency in his approach to all members of the fairer sex. Usually it was for no gain, at least none that I could discern, but later I came to understand that each one provided him with a moment or two of self satisfaction. An innocent pat on the arm or a peck on the cheek, a sisterly hug or just a warm smile was in itself a gesture that gave Ernie a much needed feeling of triumph.

He was a good listener, a shoulder to cry on, a marriage counselor, a relationship mender, and an adviser on matters of sex, abuse and infidelity. As far as I know he had no credentials, he was completely unqualified to give advice, but the women came to him in droves just to pour out their woes, to have someone to talk to who seemed to be interested in their problems, and who had the time to listen. He always made time for them. Many times I watched in amazement as the women lined up waiting for a chance to have a conversation with him. It was like a scene from a doctor’s office. He never hurried them, and they were happy to wait.

I was the bartender, Ernie was my best customer. Our relationship lasted for many years but only began at happy hour each day; I never knew what he did in the daytime. He always arrived at four thirty, he drove an ordinary car, I think that it was a Toyota, it wasn’t fancy at all. I only found out what type of car that he drove because on one occasion he asked me out to the parking lot to help him carry a Christmas gift into the bar. It was big and too heavy for him to manage on his own. The gift turned out to be for me. It was a concrete gnome for my garden pool. Remember, I did mention that he was an attentive listener, he had heard me mention my plans for the pool project I was planning to construct in the yard of my new home. The only reason that I relate this information is so that you may understand that he was not a flamboyant person. He chose to drive a Toyota. He could have been rich and just liked Toyotas, but I don’t think so. There was nothing about him that suggested that he had money. His clothes, his watch, his haircut, his shoes were all ordinary. He was just an average Joe. It wasn’t money that attracted the girls to him. In my very limited experience there were only two qualities that girls sought in their choice of partners, the first was financial, and the second was sexual. I had deduced (incorrectly so I was later to discover) that Ernie was not rich; maybe he was exceptionally well endowed. I never did find out about his endowment.