Doktor Frank Doe

2011-09-06T21:12:00.000-07:00

I N T R O D U C T I O N

I hold no pertinent academicachievement whatsoever to any of the subject matter contained forthwith. Not asingle course in Humanity, Sexuality or Psychology. I accidentally became anexpert in this field as an active participant and avid observer. All theinformation contained herein is my own observations based on my personalperspectives. They’re driven by a high intellect and an over-abundance ofcommon sense and articulated through the tangible practice of Applied Science.(Practical Application) I never set out on this journey to become any kind ofrelationship authority. The accumulative result is outlined in the followingchapters of this human-interest study.

Throughout my life, I’ve had the exceptionally good fortune ofhaving been attached to several extraordinary women in long term relationships.Obviously, being single as I write this, none of them worked out. As withanyone else, many were fraught with pain, misery and extreme difficulties.Fortunately, through it all, I’ve been able to learn from each of theserelationships as each was an experience unique to itself. I’ve walked awaywithout enduring traumas or hatred and with a better understanding of theimportance of the varied relationship dynamics and my own assorted failures touphold my end of the arrangements. Many of them had the patience of Jobe, I’lladmit that until the day I die and I loved them all and in many cases I missthem all and wouldn’t trade the memories or the experiences for anything. Witheach of them I grew as a man and as a human being. At times it took years toadmit the growth and understand the lessons, but in every case, I eventuallydid.

At age 38 I left Southern, Arizona for the Southern Californiabeaches to write this project. Originally entitled “Looking Right, TurningLeft”, it was born from an idea to illustrate the irony of how all of usexperience the exact same problems, act upon them in a similar manner, face thesame dilemmas, and react to sadness and rejection in identical fashion. We onlythink our traumas are unique to each of us, naturally, they’re not. Ourpersonal fallacies with the opposite sex are more times than not a simple caseof consciously acting to our own worst interests. We disregard common sense andintuition and with the best of intentions we proceed headlong into something weinstinctively know is going to be our next great failure. We commit ourselvesto personal change or expect change in the other person to ensure a self-contrivedidea of great success with this one. I’ve done this myself and still forwhatever reason, occasionally act conversely to my first instinct. Over theyears I’ve learned that our first gut-reaction produces the best course ofaction to practically any person, place or thing. It’s when we attempt toreason ourselves to a contrary conclusion that we all get in trouble.

So, I was fast approaching 40 years of age and just like severalother times in my life truly believed I had all the answers to all thequestions pertaining to life with the opposite sex. Years of self-psychologyand honest admission of past responsibilities had resulted in a starkrealization that if I were to ever claim myself a victim of anything, it wouldhave to be of myself, not those I’ve been involved with. Accepting personalresponsibility where due just seemed a better life path. On several occasions Iignored my original intuition, convinced myself otherwise and went forth in arelationship that crashed and burned. It makes no sense to blame her for thefailure knowing full well I should’ve never been involved with her in the firstplace. So, to me, learning from the failures and moving on made the bettersense than being victimized by any of them.

LRTL was my personal retaliation to a then recently publishedbook “The Rules” by Ellen Fein and Sherrie Schneider. This disaster, subtitled“Time-tested secrets for capturing the heart of Mr. Right” is a prime exampleof what not to do; that being, playing sophomoric games to get and capture theattention and affections of a man. I can’t imagine this mess became acontemporary literary classic, but, the reasons it did will become crystalclear in a later chapter.

So my information as written in LRTL was/is clear, concise andbased on years of experience out in the real world, not the study of statisticsand theory written by some PhD that married the first vagina he ever saw, or the first man she ever tricked to the altar - as the case may be.

Simply put, chemically speaking, men and women originatethoughts from vastly different perspectives for a reason. Forget trying tounderstand one another because it’s the best exercise of futility you’ll everattempt. A man and woman do not have the capacity to truly understand the otherand this is all by design. When a relationship is properly balanced, these twoperceptions don’t conflict, they compliment one another. The unbalancedrelationship breeds a discord that results from unrealistic expectations ofchange; they’re counter-productive, frustrating and pointless.

Incidentally it’s not usually my intent to bash the works ofothers—“Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus” by John Gray and thefore-mentioned “The Rules”--unless they’re certifiably part of the overallproblem, which in this case, they are.

So, as I continued to practice really great sex through thepower of my personal knowledge of the female anatomy and the resultingmultiple-orgasmic bliss with as many California girls as would allow me, Ieventually crossed paths with Kelly (I).

The LRTL project was coming along pretty well, a bit behindschedule, but still with an acceptable forward momentum. At the time Kelly (I)was a 39 year old radio producer, separated from her husband and out in thedating world for the first time since college. We met through a mutual friend andbegan our conversations through Instant Messages on America Online. She wasclearly a G-Spot skeptic, had never been multiple and actually had somedifficulty achieving orgasm by any other means other than her own.

Kelly (I) and I met soon after and began an Every-Wednesdayaffair where she would make the drive down from Orange County to my ocean-frontcondo in San Diego, where on the third date and 22 orgasms later shebreathlessly exclaimed that she “Had to get me on the radio”.

The next thing I knew, I was billed as “DR. Frank, America’smost academically unqualified, pragmatically accurate on-air source of love,sex and relationship guidance”. My so called doctorate was of course honoraryand collectively bestowed upon me by the female fans that I’d been recentlyintimate with. I was soon to be known as a Doctor of Opposite Sexology throughApplied Science and the G-Spot Yoda; Yoda being a nickname given to me by mycollege-aged cousins upon their personal training and subsequent enlightenmentof the real mechanical workings of the female gender. Their girlfriends wereenlightened and appreciative as well.

So, there we were Kelly (I) and I co-hosting “The Dr. Frank andKelly Show” live in the mornings from just outside Riverside California andclose enough to Los Angeles to boast to anyone living outside Los Angeles thatwe had a show in the number two radio market in the U.S. Never mind the factthat we were broadcasting from an obscure little upper-band AM station thatoperated only during daylight hours because our frequency would bleed acrossother stations in the clear of the night. Plus, probably nobody was reallylistening anyway, but it was a start and in a relatively short time, an end.

As is the case with many facets of my life, the irony of theradio show experience was enough to make me consider Karmic counseling.Unbeknownst to us when we took on the radio job, the station was managed by arabidly-religious 45 year old single heterosexual female rumored to be avirgin. Suffice it to say her ideals and principals were in daily directconflict with mine. Then one day I was fired and it stuck. I had beenthreatened to be fired many times, but one day it was true and I no longer hada show. As a result of our firing, my one and only dream, seeing my likenessplastered across the advertising space of a public bus has evaporated, for thetime being.
The show website went on for quite some time and enjoyed somesuccess as I’ve remained in demand for consultations and the study itself is anongoing process.

As the study continued, there has been a nagging problem. In allthe conversations and training sessions I’ve had with men throughout the pastfour years, I’ve had growing frustrations at their lack of ability to learn andapply the lessons to their own lives. A piece was missing and I had no ideawhat it could be. I spent many sleepless nights mentally attempting to get tothe heart of the problem and never could. Finally one day over happy hourdrinks with a friend down in Pacific Beach, I was relaying my frustrations andas I got more tightly wrapped telling the story, I finally threw my hands inthe air and claimed this group of men to be wussies. BINGO!

After a couple of more years of thought on the subject andapplying various scenarios to the state of society, LRTL has literally beenscrapped. My observations weren’t off-target, but after discovering therevelation of the missing puzzle piece, the whole picture changed. The problemmost men who came to see me were having is a lack of control of their relationship.Some men left with the game plan and were wildly successful, probably becauseas men often are, they were up to that moment merely ignorant to the workingsof the female. They got the message and applied it to great success. The restof them were the weak, wussies that didn’t have the capacity to implement thegame plan due to lacking control over their relationship. I saw a lot morewussies than anything else because there are a lot more wussies than anythingelse! So, shit, this isn’t so much a problem, it’s really an epidemic.

Once I reached the conclusion the majority of men areemasculated, I took a long hard look at my own actions and behaviors. Suddenlyand without too much thought, a bell went off in my head and all the pieces ofall the various related puzzles dropped into place. The clouds parted, thechoir sang and the sun came shining right through. Now, I’m more pissed offthan ever! Not at men for being weak, not at women for their unwittingcontribution to the weakness, but at the testicular detriment of societalevolution.

So forget the cheese and crackers chicken-shit process of buyingbook after book and spending hours on end talking to therapist after therapist.It’s pointless to try and come to terms with the fundamental differences ofthat other person in your life. It’s now time to embrace and even celebratethat difference by coming to understand how we should be living our lives as wewere naturally intended to. When doing so we’ll obliterate most of theunexplainable static that clogs our relationships with the opposite sex.

Nature wrote the rules; they’re inherent and deeply rooted inour DNA. They’re quite simple, instinctual and concise. Humans throughevolution and perpetual analysis have ever so slowly redefined these rules. TheMale/Female interaction has become a victim of special interests and personalgreed. The women’s movements, an endless stream of professionals thatcapitalize on the human condition and the monetary demands of a materialisticsociety are a few of the reasons man has weakened.

This story will unfold here in the book one chapter at a timeand before long, the bell will go off in your head as well. Keep in mind thesolution will be simple to understand, almost too simple. We as humans mentallymake concepts more difficult to understand and implement than is evernecessary. Professionals capitalize on this fact and keep matters difficult asthere’s damned little profit in simplicity.

”Experts” authoring self-help books merely perpetuate lame attemptsof navigating the relationship barrier. Through cute analogies and variousall-encompassing impressions, they eventually land right back on the same oldtired premise; “agreeing to disagree”. How many of your have heard that crock?I guarantee you’ve heard it if you’ve ever seen a counselor or therapist aboutrelationship issues. To me, this was always a mindless, short-cut andprofessional wave-off to essentially guilt us into accepting a mutual defeat.

People do not “Agree to disagree” on emotional subject matter.Some people can agree to disagree on politics, others can agree to disagree onreligion and almost all can agree to disagree on what they had for lunch amonth ago last Thursday. Emotionally charged issues? Never! How many of youever read a book and/or received relationship counseling that honestly changedyour life? “Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus” essentially said nothingmore than “Men and Women think and act very differently from one another”. Nowthere’s a revelation! The book promises to make your lives together better byunderstanding that each thinks and acts differently than the other; anotherrevelation!

For years I’ve been preaching a quote I put together for theRadio Show.

“Men act upon tangible impulse which doesn’t necessarily implyan intelligent impulse. Women act upon emotional impulse which shouldn’t alwaysbe construed as a rational impulse. In other words, it’s the Middle-Groundwhich can never, under any circumstances be Common-Ground.”

There, I just saved you twenty bucks and the time it would takeyou to read a couple of hundred pages of text eventually telling you somethingyou already know! With that statement, the only promise I’m making to you isthat you’re not ever going to change this basic principal, nor will you evertruly understand it.

In the following chapters, I am going to illustrate the thingsyou can change. The ideals are simple but implementing them may be a challengefor some. However, I’ve personally practiced all that is to follow, extensively.It’s been introduced and shared with a very broad spectrum of different peoplefrom all walks of life and carries a 100% success rate.

Now, prepare for change and with it the unalienable human rightto enjoy all the passions you’re entitled as a man or woman. All you’ll have todo is dig deep down to your most inner recesses and be yourself.

-DoktorFrank Doe

Pacific Beach, California

2006

PREFACE

2011-01-05T09:24:00.000-08:00

PREFACE

THE BASTARD BY THE BAY.

Okay, so who am I what makes me such the expert? This is the kind of information typically articulated on jacket covers but there's a lot bigger point to make so here it is in this introductory section.

First of all I'm in no way traditionally qualified to write this book. I'm not a PhD or have any other formal education as it relates to humanity, relationship dynamics, psychology, or psychiatry. The term Doktor was bestowed upon me about ten years ago by a collective of followers, all of whom benefited greatly by the information I possessed as learned throughout my adulthood, but more on that as we go forward.

The great new catch-phrase of the new millennium is "Life is what happens when you're busy doing other things". For me, nothing could be closer to the truth. To a greater degree than most, nothing I've done in this life has been pre-determined. Everything I've done so far though has been obviously pre-destined. Every time I've planned to the left, I was thrown to the right. All too often the best laid plans were derailed well before the train ever left the station. All eventualities have led to this book and it's all been by nothing more than sheer happenstance, or was it?

To reach this particular juncture of life required enorrnous degrees of Common sense, observation and objectivity. I've been married once, have no children and have had no known accidental offspring. My participation in life has been largely without the distractions and responsibilities of home and family. My Common sense quotient has been a psychological struggle of reason, often-times contrary to the academic achievements of others and what we all perceive as reliable information through the written word and the establishment as it exists today. It's the little voice inside us all that whispers, speaks or screams, Bullshit!! The conflict is oftentimes surrendered in the face of sheer mental exhaustion.

Today, there are a million reasons why men and women struggle to get along; this is up from about 800,000 reasons in 1970. Directly or indirectly, I'll be addressing a good 750,000 of them in this book. The rest is up to you.
I'm no different than any other American, I've been down every dirt road a relationship can endure, several relationships actually. The difference between me and most of you is, I've been through several ringers and done it more objectively.
Objectivity in failed relationships? Can't be, right? Right, they weren't objective at the time, none of them were. Each ended with anger, pain, and all the bad behaviors which often prevail, but in retrospect once all the smoke cleared from each one, all the pieces assembled in the bigger picture that has become my very-objective-view on life.

Upon the demise of each relationship, I didn't saddle up to and embrace the pain, I didn't subscribe to victimhood on
any of them. I recovered from them in time and never did I find sole-culpability in the other person because that's rarely ever
the case.

Now, back at the reality-ranch, I've heard myself called a Bastard more times than I could ever begin to count. In jest to my face or in reference to me in the conversations of others at social settings, in arguments, in whispers, in interoffice communications of various means, you name it, the message rang through. At times, depending on the person making the claim or observation as it may be, it's been a bit diffrcult to hear, at others, not so much.

The problem is, I have no mechanism to filter what I'm thinking. Typically, whatever I'm thinking leaves my mouth within a nanosecond of the thought and then I'm sometimes dealing with the aftermath for weeks, months, or even years. This has rarely been a good thing for me and in no way do I consider this anything short of a character flaw.

The honesty part of it is good in this world of Anything But. The Bastard Big mouthed part of me isn't merely a spontaneous burst of eventual regrets-oh no-it gets much worse with any level of pre-meditation as anyone that's ever received a confrontational letter from me will attest in spades of neon and rhinestone. My methodology can seem insensitive to most, extreme and even downright heartless (especially when advocating a cause) but throughout the heart of any matter, there's a titanium bolt of truth holding it together and a tenibly low threshold of impatience driving the message.

This has been an ongoing problem for me as finding a woman that possesses the tenacity to put up with this shit has been a challenge; especially the older I get. Being the seeker of all truths has enlightened me to societal issues the likes of this book and by my stepping back and taking in the whole picture I've managed to become angry at the stupidity of the American-human condition. It's impossible for me to remain quiet about a great many things and here's a prime example of how dating me and my bullshit can become an issue.

I'll call her Sarah for the purposes of this story to protect her true identity. Sarah was the epitome of beauty, style and grace, I guess you could safely say she was my exact opposite. To call us the odd-couple was the insult odd people as she was truly all that. and I was truly all me.

That holiday season I was to accompany her to a social function of several entertainment industry colleagues of hers. All dressed up to kill, we were on our way to the home of the man giving the party and throughout the car-ride Sarah was briefing me on proper etiquette and pleoding with me in every fashion possible to behave just this once, even if it was just this one time all year, to even consider it her Christmas gift! I impatiently nodded as if I were a nine year old being told to wash my hands after using the bathroom.

Once we arrived and not long after the first cocktail, as is often the case at social gatherings, we became separated. I simply took the initiotive to circulate through the crowd and see if there was any truly interesting conversations taking place that I could become a part of. The further from her influences I got, the less conscious I remained of all the damned rules she laid out for me in the car.

It didn't take long and I happened upon a growing number of party-goers crowding around a woman who I came to find out was preaching the gospel of Female Superiority. The group was pretty much evenly split between men and women all taking in the half-lecture, half-maniacal rant of this woman, who I never actually met and have no idea who she was even to this very day. As it turns out, this was my very first indoctrination into societal emasculation although I had no idea at the time that's how one would define it. It was an interesting sight. The body language fascinated and disgusted me all at the same time. All the women took up a posture as though they were ready, willing and able to go into an all out battle and many of the men became loose, shoulders down, heads often hanging with eyes to the floor. None of the men in attendance presented any challenge to this man-hating Gloria Steinem wannabe, not a single, solitary one. I found myself mysteriously drqwn to her as I scooched in closer and closer, shoulder to shoulder, not wanting to miss out on a single sentence this woman uttered.

As one might expect, my bullshit meter was awakening the sleeping bastard, the little devil jumped up on my right shoulder a little before the angel appeared on my left. It wasn't long before the first shots were fired in the ongoing internal war of wills, each battle always being settled by the bastard. As the angel pitched visions of the grace of Sarah from her beauty and brains to her in black laced teddy and all the fantasies of a future; the devil countered with the masturbatory hand references and spoke the loud and clear Iogic the bastard lives and dies by. "Just how long do you really think you'll be able to maintain a girl like that in a relationship anyway? " That particular logic was enough to propel me to the front row position in this virtual theater of nonsense and stand guard over the masculine virtues of the Americqn Male; nobody else in the hell was. I was so close to this woman I could feel the heot of her verbal horseshit where the devil-upon dominant ground-fired the fatal shot. "Look how badly she's taking down the brotherhood!" Thoughts of Sarah became so distant at that very moment she could have been in an entirely dffirent dimension.

Ms Female Superiority then proclaimed how she's on the very verge of attacking Corporate America with every intention of obliterating-by legal means if necessary-the "Glass Ceiling" of which keeps women at lower levels of management and lower pay than men. Suddenly, one of those nanoseconds passed that I spoke of earlier as I blurted out how it will require a Hysterectomy to justify such a measure in Corporate America.

Mere words can't describe the voracity of her demeanor as her entire being focused upon me (and only me) as she stopped millimeters short of a complete utter implosion. It's impossible to remember all the details of this exchange as it happened so many years ago, suffice it to say, security was summoned to intervene and being well down the guest list of importance, I was escorted to the door, without Sarah.

This was undoubtedly the nicest place I had ever been thrown out of, there was no question of it. I roamed around outside and found a nice little heated gazebo with cushioned seats and hung out until I was discovered by that special someone that I came there with. When she eventually found me-as one might well imagine-her enthusiasm with being my date was less than stellar. It wasn't long after this particular evening that she broke up with me citing that particular occurrence among several as the reasons why.

So you see, the devil turned out to be right! I stood my ground and did intellectual battle for all American Mankind until I was in mid-summation being ushered out to the front yard.

In a nutshell, this is me.

So now, here I stand amongst the leagues of professionals, many that have written scores of books before me. A concrete truth I've discovered on countless occasions is how we Americans are educated, trained, taught, etc, etc, conditioned to believe andlor perform to a particular level in most instances a strictly controlled outcome. Metaphorically speaking, educated into a Box. In the vast majority of cases, professionals possess an arrogance of unfounded superiority whereby their degree displaces any common sense to any contrary occrurence and the ability to consider any altemative methodology is vehemently denied with a passion.

My experiences and observations in the mental health fields with almost all American traditions, is to pursue the dollar above all else. As long as that's the prime motivator, believe me, your best interests are not being served. There's a hell of a lot of new conditions being discovered/invented all the time to appeal to the ever growing American hypochondriac that come complete with a drug to treat the symptoms and years of therapy to perpetuate the treatment.

I firmly believe that pretty much anything short of the clinically insane can be diagnosed in a maximum of three days and cured in twenty-eight. The diagnosis is simple in the majority of the cases because most people suffer from a small variety of common dysfunctions, then the behavior modifications require 28 days, as the mental health community has already proven. This all could be accomplished drug-free for $995.00, but that wouldn't be cost-effective for them, nor would it be acceptable for many of you. Too many of you prefer a dysfunctional label rather than accept or even embrace your differences.

The American mind has largely sunken to the depths of the need for excuses and victim hood. We all honestly believe it has to be more complicated and it gives us all time to plan whether or not we ever want to discard that excuse we've embraced for all these many years. For many, it's much easier to live with the excuse than to live without it.

If ever you get to know mental health professionals that happen to have interpersonal relationship difficulties, it's interesting to watch them try to deal with their own problems in the same fashion they treat others. Many of the behavioral changes they are convinced are key to the ailing relationship as outlined in a textbook are nonsense and it's not until they're on the same field playing the same game as their patients do they realize it's nonsense, well the smart ones do anyway. Then they often times wind up in worse shape than any of us ever dreamed of trying to override the worsening symptoms with new versions of the same nonsense to the point one or the other of the two grabs a rifle and climbs a clock tower.

As I've mentioned, there's relatively few dysfunctional traits that affect us. We all think we're unique and we're treated as unique for fun and profit, but we're not. We're no different than every other Tom, Dick and Harriet on the block and the truth of this matter comes to light when discussed within our peer group. It's the simplicity of basic instincts that is the real impetus of this book and it's my intention to illustrate how very few of us are living our lives along the lines of this instinct. It's been a fascinating journey to learn, a fascination I'm confident you'll share with an open mind.