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If anyone had asked me before moving to Haliburton how seduction differs here from seduction in the city, I would have answered: It does?  After all, why should location make any difference? Well, until you have lived in the city (and been seduced there) and then lived in Haliburton (and been seduced here) it could easily be difficult to understand and appreciate the difference.

            So, with the intention of bringing to light the ins and outs of this almost never asked, seemingly unimportant, but burning question, let’s take a look at what turns women on 3 hours north of The Big Smoke and how one simple action taken by a Haliburton man can entice his Haliburton Honey to want him in her bed.

            First, to clearly differentiate Urban Man from Haliburton Man, let’s take a look at them in the dead of winter—for unlike our present magnificent Haliburton summer – it’s during the more challenging months that their differences become more apparent as well as the opportunities for Haliburton Man to out-seduce his Urban brother.

Urban Man.

            Urban Man wakes up in the warmth of his overly heated apartment, yawns, scratches his private parts, and proceeds, half awake, to the kitchen where he fills the imported Italian coffee maker with his favorite specialty ground beans. Stumbling over at least two pair of argyle socks which he has as yet to relinquish to a corner of his closet called laundry, he makes his way to the fully equipped bathroom where he grabs a tube of toothpaste and a tooth brush, turns on the shower, climbs in and begins his morning oral and body scrub. Fast, easy, he doesn’t even have to think about it. In fact, if he fumbles, he just needs to bend down and pick up the toothpaste cap he’s dropped so it doesn’t get lodged between his toe and the rubber ducky.

Haliburton Man.

            Haliburton Man wakes up in the frosty air of his wood-stove heated cabin, shouts: Damn it’s cold in here!, shivers his way out of bed, falls over his blue jeans and wool lined duck boots as he grabs a plaid shirt while his willie contracts like a stack of dimes. Vapor rings stream from his nostrils as he grabs two logs from beside the wood stove, throws them onto the iron grate and sets them ablaze. Then, he races to the kitchen and pushes the button on his Tim Horton’s coffee maker, tosses in Tim’s Fine Grind, and is about to jump into the shower when he remembers that his septic tank is on the fritz and the tub floor looks like the inside of his toilet bowl.

Back to Urban Man.

            He casually walks into his closet and chooses one of several suits that is still covered in plastic from his neighborhood cleaners – discounted 50% in a head-on competition for his business with three other cleaning establishments in the area. He chooses the camel hair wool slacks and cashmere sweater as he flicks on his flat screen television to check on the status of his stocks.

            One text message later to his stock-broker-cousin, Larry, and his portfolio is safe. He casually savors his java and croissant, grabs his hand-tooled briefcase, puts on his combed suede loafers, grabs his mohair overcoat and as he rides the elevator down to the heated underground garage with recyclables in one hand, (which he will toss into a conveniently located bin), and cell phone in the other, he calls his Urban Honey and invites her to lunch. Busy until the weekend, she agrees to see him on Saturday after a myriad of errands, yoga, the hairdressers, her tailor, and her three best girlfriends’ “sharing” session. Will she be longing to have sex with him that night? Maybe, if he promises not to scare the dog.

Back to Haliburton Man.

            He boils two huge pots of water and lugs them to the bathroom in an attempt to clean the tub so he can take a shower without getting diphtheria. Watching the color brown turn to green, yellow then clear he can now smell the aroma wafting from the kitchen – coffee that Tim H. has so kindly perked just for him. Now, java in hand he chugs it back and waits as the shower water climbs from below frigging cold to “that’s a bit better” and five minutes later – to HOT.

            He climbs in embracing the heat as his stack of dimes grows back to its normal size roll of toonies. Then, drying himself with a towel that has needed to visit the Haliburton village Laundromat for two weeks, he eyeballs which of his wash and wear pants and shirts he will wear today. He grabs the blue corduroy shirt and khaki pants, and is soon on his deck shoveling a path down the wooden stairs to his 4 x 4 which is frozen beneath a foot and a half of ice and snow.

            He’s going to be late to work along with most people in the Highlands this morning who have to dig their way out of god’s little joke. But he does it gladly. Haliburton Man loves feeling alive and shoveling is right up there with curling and hockey.  He doesn’t think about calling his Honey because he’s planning on calling her later with the aphrodisiac he knows works every time.

Haliburton Gal.

            Choosing to live among the pristine lakes of Haliburton, covered in winter with ice, skidoos and fishing huts; rolling hills, lush with snow; and sky-licking pines, does not necessarily mean Haliburton Gal embraces the hard-edges of a long rural winter. In fact, after endless blustery days she often finds herself dreaming of the amenities of the city – especially when she has to take her garbage to the Dump.

            Now, wanting to leave as small an ecological footprint as possible on the planet is one thing – but, having to deal with the on-duty Garbage Guards at the County Dump is another. Sure they’re hard-working men committed to insuring that all Haliburton residents observe the strict rules of separating garbage and recyclables into half a dozen receptacles, but while you’re standing on an unsheltered hill in a 60 mile per hour gale with freezing nostrils and toes that have been numb for 30 minutes?

            “No!” they shout. “Take it out of those plastic bags where we can see it!”

            Meanwhile, 3 hours south, Urban Gal walks her garbage and recyclables curbside for pickup or drops it into bins in a heated underground garage.

Haliburton Man’s Aphrodisiac.

            So, what’s the most seductive thing Haliburton Man can do to woo his Honey? Buy her jewelry, candy, or the latest multi-gadget ipod? No. He simply calls her up and says:

            “I’m going to the Dump. I’ll come by and be your garbage guy today. Just put it all on the front porch and I’ll get rid of it for you.”

             Haliburton Gal is smitten. No garbage guards to deal with. No freezing eyelids while separating plastics from glass. Her hero – Haliburton Man – has saved her from a dreaded day at the Dump!

Here in Haliburton…

            Earth and man meet pines, deer, birds and other critters of the woods and streams. Ice fishing, wood chopping in the winter and mending home and hearth in the Spring, Summer, and Fall are not only essential to survival, they’re also downright sexy. Put Haliburton Man in the city away from the village where everybody knows his name, and his country panache will most likely pale beside Urban Man’s finely tuned GQ flare.  But, here on home ground, to a Haliburton Gal — his earthy dump foreplay reigns supreme.

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