Discuss.
Women are from Venus, Supermen are from Krypton
Contributed by pusa (Edited by amplifier)
Sunday, July 30, 2006 @ 12:00:03 AM
So what does a near-sighted, chain-smoking, second-rate artist wannabe
who has little over a penny on his name, doesn't plan for anything
over a week ahead, and hasn't had a normal relationship for more than
two years know about love and commitment?
Mu. No right answer, only wrong question.
I may not know jack about relationships, women, and what in the world
is in that goddamned purse, but I know about men, with their XY
chromosomes, perpetual fascination of the female anatomy, and the
truth behind the It's-not-you-It's-me crap.
If you would allow me to speak about men, I'll speak for the 30% who
actually knows their s***, the 60% who brags about their shoe size,
and the clueless 10% who still believes in Santa Claus and the false
conception on courting, chivalry, and romance.
They say we're insensitive – well, they got half that right. Not that
men are naturally insensitive, it's just that women are too sensitive
and compared to them we all seem like a bunch of Nazis. Feeling is not
a labor we can sustain 24/7. Sure, we like to cuddle and hold hands,
but honestly, it's just libog talking. Certainly, you've already heard
from that Freud dude that libido is what drives every living creature
and is accountable for every action, only, the female of our specie
has a damn good way of keeping it under covers. Yes, he may call or
sit down on a chat with you, however intimate or trivial the topic may
go, if the guy doesn't take sense from a clean, sociable conversation
with someone from the opposite sex, chances are, he's hitting on you.
Speaking as someone who hasn't celebrated Valentine's Day since he was
still wearing white socks on leather shoes and still thought eighty
pesos was way too much to pay for a cup of coffee, I believe that- and
so does every guy on this planet.
Men are extremely territorial, and if we were to follow the behavioral
ecology of our wildlife counterparts, we would be urinating on every
stuff we own and scent-mark the boundaries of our territories, and,
believe it or not, that includes our women. Forget what you know about
men and jealousy, we get jealous whenever we feel our territories are
threatened, not that bs about love and devotion (one tacit merit about
men is that we trust our partner too well than to be insecure about
them falling out of affection with us). Like the lion ready to pounce
on another whose making moves on his pride, the hair on the back of
our neck stands up when another guy do as much as breathe on our
girl's direction.
Coming to the topic of pride, men has equal passion to sports as women
has to, well, shoes. Though I, personally, will never in my life know
the excitement in watching a seven-foot guy run around a court while
dribbling a ball, not even a bikini-clad japanese twin can peel my
eyes off the television while Manny Pacquiao dish it out with that
tequila-sucking fella. We like gamb|ing, cars, video games, and if we
were still living in medieval times, we'd like to kill as much people
as we can. Pride in all its manifestation fuels our self-fulfillment
even if it leaves us ma$turbating in our parent's basement or living
in a box begging for spare changes. Pride also counts for all the
trouble guys go grooming, mating calls, and other rituals to win a
prospective mate. No wonder men consider their women trophies, whether
to take it as a compliment or an insult, I leave that to you.
It is scientifically proven, men think about sex once every six
seconds (fascinating, no? it's not that hard really when you think
about it…1…2…3…4…5…sex…). We need a daily dose of orgasm or else baby
batter would come pouring out of our nostrils. Ah, the secret is
keeping it discreet. Evolution has taught us male of the specie to
regard sex with as much emotional value as taking a morning shower,
because be it a good or a bad thing, we tend to disassociate sex with
love. It may be true we are always ready to hump anything that has
bo0bs and a chinky pair of eyes, we rarely fall in love with everyone
we sleep with – with the exception of that naïve 10% I mentioned in
the beginning who are probably still virgins to begin with. This lead
to the explanation, if not the justification of that chauvinistic
conception that it's all right for committed men to sleep around, but
not for women to do so. If you have to ask why, you have to go back to
what I said about territory. This also begets us to give a worthy
respect or at least equal esteem to wh0res, not look down on them, but
instead, assess them as we would or doctors or plumbers. Though most
of the times men think with their crotch, the (rare) worthy of us see
sex as a substantial part of a healthy relationship and a healthy
lifestyle. We see it as a symbol, rather than an act, of surrendering
ourselves to someone we trust our needs to (we get so confused when
women say they are only going to do it with someone they love yet get
insulted when we ask them to sleep with us if they want to prove that
they really love us. I mean, make up your mind lady). Sometimes, it's
not the actual deed that we seek, but the contentment of knowing our
partner shares the same trust we tender them. Get my drift? Probably
not. Even most men are mor0ns to realize these themselves. Besides,
who am I kidding? Sex IS fun- more fun than a virgin roll of bubble
pack.
And beer. Men love beer, there is nothing more to say about it. Beer
is the first proof that comes to men's mind that god is good and that
he loves us all.
It does men injustice to speak of them objectively, for as you would
have figured out, nothing is absolute in the secret lives of men. As I
have said, I would refrain from talking about things I know nothing
about like love, relationships, or why men are like that. I provide
answers, not explanations. You see men as big hairy beings that would
lie, steal, cheat, and break your heart as soon as you gave them the
chance, and probably you're right, but we're also good for hunting and
opening jar lids and…stuff. Bottom line? Chasing supermen is nigh
impossible without a handful of kryptonite shards. Settling down with
a less-than perfect earthman is not so bad, once you see his special
silver lining. In Freudian sense, the best way to go is with a man who
keeps his id, ego, and superego under control and on near equal
points. In layman's terms, despite their visible and possibly
biological flaws, you cannot go wrong with someone who respects your
privacy, someone who treats all women equal but treats his woman like
a queen, someone who would listen to both sides of stories, someone
who recycles paper or uses unleaded gas, or at least someone that
makes you smile. But if you're still wishing to bag that perfect,
dreamy, prince charming, if you don't have a pair of glass slippers, a
posse of dancing mice, and one kick-a** fairy godmother, I say good
luck to you.
My sentiments exactly. You seem to be one of those rare well-adjusted men. I only know of a few. A few.
