THE MURCHISON DEAL

What, I have wondered, if I had been born a girl? Specifically, if I were female, what kind of woman-person would I be? It isn't so very odd a question, as many people have reputedly been born thus.
Probably a large percentage of humanity.

I often play such mental games with myself. What if I had been a German? What about Serbo-Croat, or a camel? What if instead of being a snarky Dutch-American, I was a hamster? What if I had been born a Mormon?

If I had been born a Mormon I would either be a very bad Mormon indeed, or quite suicidal. Irrespective of gender.

If I had been born a girl, I think I should like to be at least twenty years or so younger than my current age, and probably six inches shorter. That way my opportunities would be massive. A young woman has far more options for misbehaviour, and a shorter woman just looks a lot more interesting, besides being able to find clothing in her size. And of course I would misbehave. Though very discretely.

You could never tell from my demeanor or my choice of clothing what my personal life was like. I'd dress conservatively, even modestly, and would rarely go out drinking, if at all. Any alcohol would be consumed in known and safe company, and never more than one small glass. And as far as my love life was concerned, well, that would be none of your business.
If there was one. Which you wouldn't know.

There probably would be a love-life.

At a suitable post-academic time.

Quietly, and very privately.

It would not involve football players, nor business majors. Especially not business majors! Those people are actually rather boring to talk to, and I could not imagine myself feeling at ease in the company of such dubious types. Besides, there's no commonality. None to speak of, at least.
And if there's nothing to speak of, there likely is no conversation either.
How dull!


'Hi Hon, how was your day?'

"I closed the Murchison deal! I closed the Murchison deal!
I closed the Murchison deal!"

'That's nice....., what else did you do?'

"I closed the Murchison deal! I closed the Murchison deal!
I closed the Murchison deal!"

'Where did you go for lunch?'

"I closed the Murchison deal! I closed the Murchison deal!
I closed the Murchison deal!"

'Say, did you read that interesting article in the .... ?'

"I closed the Murchison deal! I closed the Murchison deal!
I closed the Murchison deal!"

'Do you feel like .... ?'

"I closed the Murchison deal, the Murchison deal, I did, it's closed, Murchison, I closed the Murchison deal!"


See? Nothing there. It's all spam. The only way to get his meatball mind off the Murchison deal is tons of trollop make-up, huge cleavage, finger-nail paint, and tacky slutwear not suitable anywhere that I would want to go!
Instead of a nice elegant skirt, and a lovely top that flatters my figure.
You never want to be embarrassed by a companion in public.
How much worse when it's yourself that embarrasses!


You know, if any man even tried to go on and on about the Murchison deal, it would be a temptation greater than I could bear to either clout him upside the head with a two-by-four, OR explain the menstrual cycle (and attendant cramps) in very great detail.

After which I would probably go off and eat some lobster.

Entirely without him. While wearing nice clothes.



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