With Many Cheerful Thoughts About ... Jason Garrett

Fall is fully upon us here in the Old Dominion. The leaves are changing, the weather’s changing, and football season has set in with a vengeance. I've always enjoyed the savage ballet, but only at the college football level. Pro football left me cold, for the most part. I knew just enough to get by in the fantasy league, but no more.

And then, not long after last month’s post, I found myself watching the Cowboys play the Giants on TV from a barstool in Las Vegas. My buddy had stepped away from a lovely beverage to take a call from her family, and I glanced up just in time to catch Eli Manning throwing a pass directly to the Cowboys. I hate to call it an interception because I think of interceptions as being accidental. This one didn’t look like an accident to me.

After the Manning-fail, the cameras cut to the Giants sideline, where everyone looked disappointed but not that surprised, and to the Cowboys sideline, where everyone was delighted to start the game by taking the ball from the Giants. This is where I first encountered Jason Garrett.

Apparently, the NFL is trying to figure out how to get women interested in football. Well, here’s an idea. Let’s try a focused, female-friendly campaign, heavy on the Jason Garrett. Seriously, look.

No, I get it. Maybe the NFL thinks we will be offended if they suggest we are only into football because omigosh, they’re so cute! I understand. There was even a time I would have been offended. But what is the NFL doing now? They’re offering us form-fitting pink jerseys. I don’t think offering us cute guys is a huge jump.

Lest you think Jason Garrett is all hot alpha pro football coach and no substance, check this out.

Yeah. He just dropped geometry like it’s hawt. You know, because Pythagoras.

I also love that Coach Garrett presumes that someone who might not know who Pythagoras is, would be able to spell Pythagoras in order to look him up on the phone. Good coaches have high expectations.

I see lots of people – mostly male people – who are drinking deeply from the ol’ Haterade with regard to Coach Garrett. They all pretend to be crying about any number of things, but hey, he is hotter and smarter than the typical hater, plus he’s a pro football coach. I’m sure Coach Garrett isn’t letting it get to him.

But … you know, Jason, if the day gets too long, and the haters get too loud, there’s a spot for you right here at the bar, next to me. I’m not going to complain about all that because I’m not that into football. I just know what I like. And I'm down with Pythagoras.

**Alexa Day's Illicit Impulse is a Night Owl Reviews Top Pick. She's supposed to be working on the next book, but she's been distracted by preparations for Romanticon and her apparent inability to follow her new favorite team on television. Catch her right here on the first Wednesday of the month!

Defer and Deliver: An Encouraging Word on the State of Modern Manners

A few weeks ago, I wrote a post on Passionate Reads in which I fretted that the modern state of gender relations had destroyed seduction. Even now, as I write this, I’m a little worried about that. Seduction against a backdrop of gender equity is a very stimulating game and very different from its forefathers, but the players must come to the table with equal levels of skill.

That’s not really what I came here to talk about today. It’s still kind of interesting, but no, not what I’m talking about.

Not long after I started to worry about whether seduction was dead, something interesting happened to me. I was on the elevator at my day job, the only woman on the elevator with five men. We were all going to the same place, and when the door opened, no one moved until I did. Later that week, a man offered me the last chair in a crowded room. (I was grateful, since I was tired and not looking forward to sitting on the credenza, which was where he ended up.)

And then over the holiday, on my way out of the 7-Eleven with a can of Arizona Grape Lime Rickey, an inbound gentleman opened the door and stood out of the way to let me pass. I looked him in the eye as I went by and thanked him.

“Absolutely,” he said. Then he added, “Absolutely! This is Virginia! That’s how we act!”

In that moment, I shared his pride. “That’s right! That’s how we roll!”

And he nodded emphatically at me, the ridiculous, shabbily dressed woman with the giant can of weird soda who was acting so surprised that a man would hold the door open for her.

I took the soda home and thought about all this. Why was I so surprised that my home here in the South is populated with well-mannered men? Was it like this everywhere? And what could I mix with this deliciously intriguing soda?

Honestly, I don’t know how these things work in other places. I’ve never really lived any farther north than Virginia, and apparently the men here still open doors and offer chairs and wait for us to stop gawking and get off the elevator, and they don’t much like it when we act all shocked about it.

Let’s be clear. I absolutely believe men should hold the door, surrender the chair, and let me precede them when the elevator stops. I love it when they rise as I approach the table. I think it’s hot when they light my cigar. I titter when they kiss my hand. I was taught that gentlemen should defer to women in this way. Certainly I could do most of this myself (and yes, I have jumped back, James Brown-like, and kissed myself), but I infinitely prefer having all of it done for me. For just a second, in the doorway or a crowded room or wherever, it’s nice to be treated like a queen.

Still, I worry that one day, gentlemen are going to stop doing it. I worry that they’ve gotten the idea that most women are not into it. I worry that they think it’s outdated. Most importantly, I worry that women are taking all this for granted, loudly criticizing them for it, or maybe doing both, with the result that gentlemen are just going to throw in the towel.

But maybe I shouldn’t worry. This is one of those places where the real world brushes against fiction. Well-mannered gentlemen don’t quit. They don’t give up. They stand up and give way because it’s the right thing to do. That gives me hope.

Enough hope to jump back and kiss myself.

I’m still working on beverage options for that soda, by the way. I’ll let you know how that’s coming along.

**Alexa Day thinks old-world manners are hot. You can catch her here talking about other hot things on the first Wednesday of the month, on Passionate Reads on the second Monday of the month, and on Facebook in the meantime. You might also pick up her debut novel, Illicit Impulse, where the sexiness is not quite so demure.

Open Letter to Boyfriends and Husbands Who Believe Valentine's Day Is Unnecessary

Gentlemen:

As I write this, about one week separates us from Valentine’s Day. I don’t think any other holiday inspires such a wide range of emotional responses. By now, I suspect most of us have made our plans for the holiday, to go out or stay in, to be alone or with friends or with that one special person.

But some of you have made it a point not to have plans. You say you don’t have to do anything because you love your significant others every day, 365 days a year. Valentine’s Day is just a greeting card holiday, you say.

Well, that’s an excuse. I’m sorry. I have to call you on that.

Maybe this is a greeting card holiday. But you know what? So is your birthday.

I bet your honey did something for your birthday. I don’t think she bragged about how it wasn’t necessary to do anything because you wake up breathing 365 days a year. She didn’t smugly assert that she acknowledges your continued existence every day and have no reason to treat your birthday any differently.

In fact, I bet people who are not as close to you, like your coworkers, did something for your birthday. I imagine a lot of people went to a little trouble to acknowledge your own personal greeting card holiday because you matter to them in some small way.

But you want to take your relationship with your sweetheart for granted. After all, you’re in the relationship now. She’s not going anywhere, right?

To get to this 365-day-a-year, don’t-have-to-celebrate relationship, your sweetheart’s been through a lot. She is probably never going to say this to you, but I think you have to hear it. At some point before you decided you didn’t have to acknowledge your relationship on the one special day set aside for it, your sweetheart did at least one, and probably more than one, of the following things.

1.       Considered quitting the whole dating process out of sheer frustration and exhaustion.

2.       Smiled when everything in her wanted to cry.

3.       Was told she should change some part of herself – maybe a part you love all year but refuse to celebrate today – so that she could be in a relationship.

4.       Wore something ridiculous, painful, or both.

5.       Blamed herself for someone else’s shoddy behavior.

6.       Let go of something she wanted very much.

7.       Had her boundaries violated.

8.       Stayed with someone worse than you because she doubted you were coming along.

9.       Chose to live with the certainty that she’d always be alone.

10.   Accepted something about you that really, really annoys her.

But then you came along. She chose you. She finds so much pleasure in every day with you that she may not even remember how many of those ten things she did. Being with you is a gamechanger.

And to acknowledge this, you want to do nothing.

Well, that’s not good enough.

I’m not saying you have to engage in any great spectacle. Use one of the greeting cards you sneer at and write a note. Read to each other. Sit at the bar – no reservations required – and share a dessert.

But do something.

This isn’t just another day. Your sweetheart’s not just some girl. And you should celebrate that because you love her 365 days a year.

Get to planning.

All the best,

Alexa

**Alexa Day wants to bring a little sexy into your everyday world. Her column appears here on the first Wednesday of the month. She blogs on her own website every Thursday, and her first novel, Illicit Impulse, is available March 1 from Ellora’s Cave.

You, Too, Could Live Like an Erotica Writer

Just recently, I sold my first book, ILLICIT IMPULSE, to Ellora's Cave. My friends took me out to celebrate last weekend, and over drinks and dinner (in that order), I came to realize that they apparently think I lead some sort of glamorous life. Not like a celebrity – my friends have all seen what I drive – but I see the way their eyes light up when I mention research, and I hate to disappoint them by saying that I was reading about neurochemistry. There's no little gaggle of men following me around. I keep a hangover remedy in my refrigerator. I clean the litterboxes every morning. My life's pretty average, I thought.

Having said that, though, I did have this argument with myself between sips of champagne. That actually is kind of glamorous.

But we can all be glamorous like that. We just have to ask ourselves one question. We have to start doing it right now, while we are surrounded by people who are dedicating themselves to living more monastic lives this year.

We have to ask ourselves, "Why not?"

Let's take the champagne, for instance. I'm lucky to have such awesome friends to take me places where the champagne flows freely. Champagne is out there every day, though. It's not just for New Year's Eve or Sunday morning mimosas. Couldn't we be exchanging toasts on Thursday night?

Why not?

And what about dessert? I savor every bite of every dessert as if it's the last thing I'm ever going to taste. I've also been known to take myself out to restaurants just for dessert. That's not an everyday thing, but I do love taking up position at the bar for a cup of coffee and a warm slice of apple pie. It keeps my senses sharp, which is important for an erotica writer, but for the most part, it's just an indulgence.

Why not?

I should mention the research.

I almost hate to demystify what erotica research is for me, especially so soon after Santa Claus. But the ugly truth is that my research almost never requires physical contact with another human being. I mentioned the neuroscience earlier; I had to learn about oxytocin and pharmaceutical development to write ILLICIT IMPULSE. I thought it was fascinating, but it's not terribly glamorous. For the next book, research was reading the Safety Rules and Regulations sign at the batting cage to see whether it specifically prohibits having two people in there at once. Not fancy stuff.

Then there was the Discovery Flight.

I'm planning another story in which the hero and heroine were on a single-engine plane. At the time, I had never been on a single-engine plane, and it was important enough to the story that I needed to know what the experience was like. So I reached out to a flight school and explained my situation, hoping to see how big the plane was, how close my hero and heroine would be to each other, what they would be able to take with them. The flight instructor offered me a Discovery Flight. For a very reasonable fee, he said, I could go up in the plane with him. Then I'd really know what it was like.

Why not?

(I could write for hours about what the Discovery Flight is like, but you don't have that sort of time, so I'll leave you with a quote from the flight instructor. "Go ahead and take off. Try to keep it in the middle of the runway.")

Maybe this is glamorous. Champagne toasts, indulgent desserts, exciting research – it is a good life. But it's not reserved for erotica writers. Celebrate something (like a Wednesday) with champagne. Take yourself out for a luxuriant restaurant dessert because you like the way it tastes. Learn something outside your comfort zone. Now's the time – most people are going to be waiting in line for the machines at the gym.

Go for it. Why not?

**Alexa Day is hard at work on her second book, the follow-up to ILLICIT IMPULSE, but she's got space in her schedule for the occasional random dessert. You can catch her right here on the first Wednesday of the month (or the year!) for ways to make every day a little sexier. She also blogs every Thursday on her website, www.alexaday.net.

Grateful for the Big Stuff ... and It's All Big Stuff

Years ago, I met a woman who told me what her little boy taught her about gratitude.

It was right around this time of year, just before Thanksgiving, when she asked her son what he was grateful for. Her little boy frowned thoughtfully and was silent for several seconds. She was sure he was about to come up with a heartwarming sentiment worthy of a greeting card, the sort of "right answer" parents expect to hear from small children.

Instead, he said, "Pizza."

It would have been very easy, the mother told me, to correct her son and go for the "appropriate" response. Home or family or health or something like that. But the more she thought about it, the more she realized that she was also thankful for pizza.

And why not? It's tasty. It's widely available. Good for sharing, leftovers, and beer. It prevents cooking.

I'm grateful for pizza, too. Sure, I'm grateful for freedom and health and employment and all that, too. But that does not make gratitude for pizza wrong. I am actually grateful for pizza more often than I am for large-ticket items because I enjoy pizza in such a finite way. That first bite of the first slice. The cheese, the mushrooms, maybe an anchovy. The firm crust. And then, once it's over, those last few minutes with the beer, thinking of how wonderful the whole experience was.

Yeah. I'm glad we have pizza. But the world's full of those little things that make life special. In fact, I think gratitude makes everything – the little things and the big ones – equally significant. We don't have to look far to find something that inspires gratitude. We just have to look.

I may have mentioned several times that I was at Romanticon last month, surrounded by hot shirtless men. That by itself is something to be grateful for. The Cavemen tend to travel in small groups, a habit that occasionally results in a lucky woman (like myself) sharing an elevator with four or five of them.

I had been on the elevator first, so I found myself in the rear corner. The guys were unusually quiet. They're typically gregarious and chatty in a way that brings even a dyed-in-the-wool nerd like me out of her shell. But that day, they were all watching the numbers counting down as we descended.

At least I think that's what they were looking at. I was too busy staring at them with an impunity I could not have enjoyed if they were talking to me. I studied all those powerful shoulders and long fingers and nice, big hands. I struggled mentally to describe the way they held themselves. I wondered if they could tell I was staring at them.

And then it was over. The doors opened in the lobby, and they all headed off together, to wherever they were going. I had to stand there for a minute, in the way, trying to remember where I was going.

I decided that I was grateful for this job, with its exotic destinations and elevators full of hot shirtless men. Grateful just for elevators, and how small and slow they are. Grateful for that quiet spot in the rear corner. I would even have been grateful if, heaven forbid, that particular elevator had stopped working altogether.

That's right. If I had been trapped in an elevator full of hot shirtless men, I would have found the silver lining. I'm an optimist like that.

Now, as sexy as my day-to-day life is, I am sorry to say that it is not THAT sexy every day. Yet. Even so, I'm grateful for the little sensual delights each day has to offer. A perfectly cooked meal. A good book and the free time to enjoy reading it. A friendly wave from the FedEx man, who seems to have no idea that he's gorgeous. Pizza.

What are you grateful for?

**Alexa Day is grateful for any number of things this month, including her completion and submission of her first manuscript, Project NSA. She's not sure what she'll do once NaNoWriMo is over, but you can check her out here, Below the Fold, on the first Wednesday of the month, and on her own blog every Thursday.

Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Manly Firmness

My country and my column are going to share a birthday! And what better time to start dipping Below the Fold than the Fourth of July? My happy mission: to provide you with some ways to make this hot holiday even hotter.

Let’s talk fireworks and get this celebration started with a bang! No matter how you spend the rest of the holiday, an evening fireworks show is a necessary ingredient for a hot and happy Fourth. The patriotic music always gets me a little stirred up, and I love checking out the firemen near the perimeter, the cops working crowd control, and our hot friends in the military. (Okay. I’m a badge bunny; I admit it.) Of course, if that’s not exciting enough for you, you could always daydream about all the things a person could do in the dark, surrounded by people who are all … looking … up.

Before the fireworks, though, why not spend part of the afternoon poolside? There’s no better place to celebrate the right to bare arms! If you can get to the pool early enough, you’re sure to see some fine-looking gentlemen working out, passing smoothly through the water on the way to a flip turn. Poetry in motion! And if you’re lucky enough to be at the beach, you can join a pick-up volleyball game and get even closer to the action. Now that’s my kind of gun show!

That brings us to my favorite part of the holiday: manly firmness.

Oh, get your mind out of there! Manly firmness is patriotic. It’s in the Declaration of Independence, in the fifth one of those bullet points. That’s right – it’s in the same document as the pursuit of happiness. Indeed, some of us (like me) would argue that one concept leads to the other and back again. Since manly firmness is one of the principles this nation’s based on, it is our patriotic duty to celebrate it, in its many wonderful forms. So while you’re heading from the beach to the pool, or wherever your holiday takes you, be sure to thank your hot male friends for being part of what makes our country great. Ask your favorites to take their shirts off. You know, for the country. Then get ready for those fireworks!

**Here’s a big, thank-you hug for all my hot military friends, male and female, from Below the Fold! Many thanks for doing what you do, so I can do what I do.

Alexa Day celebrates diversity -- another one of this nation's fine, fundamental principles -- with her special blend of interracial erotica and erotic romance. You can join her in the melting pot over on her blog at www.alexaday.net.