I saw my chance to derail the Hollywood routine. “Wow big brother, that’s gotta be some sort of long distance record for you.”

This was a strategic comment. Like all mid-level gofers who pony through the studio hallways, Eric carried around buckets of bullshit which he could shovel and trowel like a master. But when it came to women, he lost all spin control. He’d never been able to grasp the concept of small “w” woman. To him, they were all big “W” goddess-queens and his inability to capture and worship one for any significant length of time was a constant source of distraction if not despair.

It was really too bad. He was a good looking guy and capable of a certain low-frequency charm which seemed to communicate he wasn’t really taking anything, himself most of all, very seriously. Stuff just rolled off his back and he moved onto the next deal, the next room, the next friend. But women were different, life and death. Few of them could take that kind of pressure.