The Language of Love

So, now that I slept in a whole 15 minutes, thanks to my bladder, I decided that laziness might be the ruler of this day. Or not...dunno, I seem more wishy-washy than usual.

 

I know...I'll follow the lead of Bella! Oh, wait, cats tend to be indecisive themselves, and this one in particular. Hmmmm...planning just doesn't seem to be my thing right now.

Thing is Doc, the male of the species is designed by nature to want sex. Hey, I'm no different. See that attractive young woman walking by? I guarantee I'm thinking about sex in some form or other before she passes by and vanishes from my concious memory. All us chaps are like that to a greater or lesser degree.

 

It's our compensation for closing the toilet seat on a regular basis, or helping with other household chores. It's also, I hasten to add, the result of our male domination struggle. You see, if I have more scratches on the bed post than that other guy, he's pathetic, useless, a loser. If I have more scratches on me, then I'm obviously partnered with women of a much more dangerous calibre, and thus reflects on my big game hunter psyche.

 

At heart we're still cavemen. After all, Gene Roddenberry suggested in his Star Trek series that mankind doesn't solve its political, economic, and cultural problems until the 23rd century, and even then Captain Kirk can't help going wide eyed every time an Orion slave girl flutters her eyelids at him.

 

So I guess if you want a moonlit evening on the holodeck with Mr Right, you're going to have to wait three or four hundred years. Starfleet turns out perfect men by the shipload.

 

By now I've probably depressed you totally. But be honest Doc, all those failed cavemen who are trying to date are actually phoning you. That's goota mean something. My own view is that you should set up a thirteen week competition between your prospective partners. Set impossible challenges each week like doing the cooking or beating up the noisy neighbour. Only the winner will get a date, and each week, one of them will be mentally scarred for life by your withering rejection.

 

As for me, I don't worry about it anymore. Been there, done it, so to speak. Plus as an older bloke my keyless ignition is not quite as reliable as it was. But you know, I still have fun. people are what they are, and it's only when the issue of 'ownership' comes up it all gets a bit wearisome. Personally I think you should buy a whip. Your life will be transformed

Oh, Lord Caldrail, all of that I figured out a very long time ago. And to let the cat out of the bag, all women truly want that at our core--we want the caveman to grab us, take us for a passionate ride...let's face it, it's kinda fun And, if we procreate from the fun, well, that's Mother Nature's point, isn't it? (At least, if you want that sort of thing...)

 

No, I learned the game a long time ago, figured out the ways that the caveman will attempt to hide his true intent...and decided if I wanted to play the game or not. Right now, I don't. I don't want a moonlit walk on the holo-beach, either...well, it'd be nice, but that's not what I want. I don't want a caveman necessarily, nor a sap who bends at my every statement. I want...well, a good bloke. It's a lot to ask, I know

 

A competition, you say? Hmmmm...I might be able to pull some strings to rent out an arena, set up an obstacle course, hide a camera crew to catch all of their movements and statements...WAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT a minute...this is sounding like a reality show. A bad one at that. One with lots of crying involved on my part, the supposed act of true femininity. Nope, no way...I'll stick to the old-fashioned method: short skirt, cleavage, heels...and see who comes knocking on the proverbial door. Besides, I get to play and decipher hidden messages...more fun for me!

 

(As a side note, I'm sure that you, dear Lord Caldrail, still have your caveman moments...all men do until they're a bag of wrinkles or 6 feet under. Tis Mother Nature having fun at the expense of males everywhere. Yes, many of us womenfolk have figured you lot out )

Maybe you should decide what kind of guy you want (good bloke is kinda vague) and what you want him for. If not, perhaps, Mother Nature will turn that switch that exists in both caveman and womenfolk, depriving you of reason and making the choice for you. It is a fun ride but it may take you places you didn't want to go.

No, I know what I want, Kosmo...I'm just a typical woman. You know, complicated

You forgot to add expensive :D

Am not!!! I refute that charge, sir! Give me a picnic on the beach or at the park any day of the week! (Well, as long as it's not cold and foggy or rainy...that just sucks.)

Go for that hike! It's free, healthy, and you may just meet that hunky hiker-type. And let me know which trail you chose - always interested in that kind of thing.

 

PS Even after 21 years, Mrs OfClayton hasn't given up trying to change me. It's not that I'm actively resisting the effort, but I can't even change myself, so what chance does she stand?

Pfah! That's nothing. I've got the Department of Work & Pensions plus all their subcontractors trying to change me.