THE SLICK PFAFFER SYNDROME

It’s a heady cocktail…
A shot of Charm with a quarter of nonchalant idiosyncrasy, a pinch of wit & intelligence garnished with suave demeanor. It’s aptly called THE SLICK PFAFFER.

A cheeky grin to steal your attention…

A smooth introduction to reiterate his presence...

A playful invite to a tasteful drinking joint…

A casual, pleasantly flirtatious rendezvous over first drink...

Practiced moves of cha-cha cha and jive at the ghetto…

He’ll indulge ...open the door, pull the chair, order you expensive wine, humour you at your rotten jokes, engage in your opinionated debates, diagress conversation with a mock-heroic one liner, glaze you on the dance floor, be immaculate in his appearance, be punctual at your date venue, compliment you on your new dress, will nonchalantly kiss you when you least expect it, will play by the book and transgress them when you least expect it, will know the names of all your friends and you’ll know none of his friends …

Meet the transitory toxic headrush – the slick pfaffer.

I call it momentary lapse in reason for its short lived association but an absolutely fantastic headrush. It’s like nebulous morphine that makes your head race through incessant impressions and illusions. You cant wipe the grin off your face until the drug wears off. And you are not necessarily willing to brush off the addiction after the occasional tryst with the tranquilizer.

Women often fall prey to the slick pfaffer syndrome. It’ll be unreal not to. But then is she prepared for it? You are never prepared for the onslaught of the slick pfaffer.
However, she knows the signs, she identifies him, she knows he’ll switch off after breakfast in bed yet she still wishes otherwise. It’s either a swift exit or a smooth headrush baby. This is when the headrush becomes a migraine at the end of the 5 day headrush.

I find them a queer but amusing species. They are confident. But they are rather insecure. They are charming. But they have their eccentricities. They are interesting … but just the first 5 days. You have nothing left to say except viciously repeat the conversation after the first few dates and the irony is the slick pfaffer assumes you’re having the conversation for the first time! ;) There is nothing admirable about them except their enhanced skillset . It’s an art of seasoned façade. Rather impressive. I’m not sarcastic when I say this, but I have seriously had some of the best conversations with slick pfaffers. They take their art extremely seriously and thus it’s rather interesting to have a holistic range of conversation with the from che guvera (ummm not many of them were aware of who he was) to blueberry cheesecake, to how Bush wronged the Iraqis!

But I don’t get the entire pretence. It’s the same practiced act with one after the other woman. I mean isn’t it a lil monotonous to have to conduct the same facade. What if they have a nasty cold and don’t want to perform on a critical first date? Can they afford to lose that first date impression? *chuckles*

Women are a rather quirky species too when it comes to their impulsive reactions to acquaintance with the SP kind. They delude themselves “this is too good to be true.” Then listen to your goddamn instinct woman!!!
Why do women hunger for attention, affection and addiction? Are they depraved?

I don’t mean to be degrading… but c’mon you can’t expect a slick pfaffer to go warm socks shopping with you for your cold feet. He just aint the kind.

Reality bytes:
He’s suave, not warm.
He’s nonchalant, not involved.

He’s into music, just not into your kinda music.
He’ll make a lil practiced effort; just dont expect nothing.
He'll make you feel like you own the elysium; but he aint sticking around sweetheart.

*shrugs* you gotta accept that they are just seasoned migration birds.

SLICK PFAFFERS are epicures of romance not the maestro of romance.
They perform. They don’t participate.
They appreciate the art and it’s finery. But they don’t possess the sensibility of the artist.

The peak of pathos about women dealing with SP’s is when they become oblivious to everything else if they get someone to treat them like the centre of their worlds. They omit the signs of disorientation. Or are they just pretending to keep up the pretense with the slick pfaffer?

It’s most unnerving to see women treating slick pfaffer idiosyncrasies as synonymous with perfection. The word perfection itself is an aspiration. It doesn’t exist in reality. Perfection falls under the optimistic category of words that inspires you to hope and expect and all that jargon that helps make this world a fool’s paradise.
The slick pfaffer is not synonymous with perfection but with fool’s paradise.
Unreal.
Elusive
Escapist.
Delusion.
Charade.

A relationship with a slick pfaffer is like a cheap drug addiction which wears off eventually. You are aware of it’s pretense and it’s evanescent nature. But you indulge in it for the headrush and the escape from mundane banal reality.

As long as you can avoid the 'still in transit' ambiguous hangover; they are harmless...

But just a final word on it - Slick pfaffer is the the tip of the iceberg; not the ice-breaker. He aint keeping you warm for long ;)

“Are you still gonna be my girl?” *chuckles*