WHY DO WOMEN LIKE MEN?

"What does one need a man for", she asked with evident sincerity, "I mean, why on earth would you want a man? They're all angular!" That last part was something I had not thought about. She was right; we men are all angular. Even I am angular. I would've thought that was a good thing, given that it provides places to hang your handbag. Or handbags. Plural. Which is very useful if you're shopping, like they were. But perhaps she meant that we are not the bee's knees for decorative qualities. In which case I would be inclined to agree. I don't want a creature like that hanging around my living quarters either.

What do women need men for?

Excluding procreation, many women see no use for the male of the species. We men are rather boring conversationalists, seeing as we can only talk about sports, and never watch movies unless forced. Our culinary skills tend towards primitive -- "red meat on grill GOOD, green vegetable substance guacamole ONLY, wash down with bourbon, belch and grunt" -- and we're bugger-all use around the house. Most women are better at chores like unplugging the crapper or screwing-in light bulbs than us, and we make it a perverse habit to smell as bad as we can.

Even now, for instance, I reek amazingly of pigskin and pizza, good lord I might as well be a Forty Niner or a Washington Redneck. Except that I'm not wearing those weird stretchy-spandex pants, and there isn't a drop of beer in the house. I do not need such artificial aids, because as a man I just radiate my uncontrollable hormones, and presto! A football and funky cheese-pie odeur like you wouldn't believe!
All men can do that.
It's a talent.

Personally, I cannot imagine any use for a man. Other than myself, of course, and only to me. I can make pizza.

What do women need men for?

I doubt it's stimulation, and it certainly isn't good company or aesthetics. Those things only go one way in any case: from the woman to the man. Even when a man is doing something sweet for the woman, it's often a profoundly selfish act. "If I feed her, she will smile; nice!" Or "I'll do the dishes every night, that way she won't have cause to complain!"
What the doofus doesn't realize is that his mere existence is frustrating.
If he weren't around, she could slob around as much as she wanted.
Have buckets of fried chicken delivered every night.
Order pizza with extra anchovies.
Sleep in all day.

The occasional gift, plus cake on her birthday and a bunch of flowers, just doesn't make up for the fact that he and his kind are, on the whole, rather unusually useless, and take up way too much space on the couch.

Kind of like a cat, but far less fun.


* * * * *

I like listening in on other people's conversations, especially when I am not part of the exchange. It allows me a window into other people's exciting lives.

Unfortunately the two of them switched to discussing books or Hello Kitty or some such crap, so I wandered away. If it ain't sports or pizza, I'm just not interested.


As far as I can tell, there is no indication that women do like men.
Unless you factor in temporary insanity.
Which may work both ways.



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