WHY MOST WOMEN ARE ALMOST ALWAYS WRONG

Female sexuality is one of the most baffling things on the planet, even to other females. Whereas male sexuality is completely transparent.

As any married woman will tell you, males get excited by just two things: pulchritude, and pizza. That's it. Simple. Show a man a fabulous photo of a cheese pie, and he'll smile happily and start dancing. Pizza.

Women, on the other hand, do not get aroused by anything so simple.
More of their senses need to be stimulated. There's a whole host of necessary factors. Plus all kinds of meaningful emotion.
Prada. Louis Vuitton. Michael Kors. Gucci.
Sensual leathers and designer boots.
The smell of newness.


It's a very complex thing. If any of the fancy labels I just mentioned were to produce a fitted man's body suit made entirely out of handbag leather, it would be the most popular item on the planet, never mind the ENORMOUS expense.
Women would pursue the man wearing it to the end of the earth.
Keen to experience every inch of his figure.
Without ever touching skin.
Just his straps.

For all they would care, he MIGHT be stuffing his face with pizza, while they caressed the seams and studs, sniffed the smooth LEATHER sheath that chrysalis-like enveloped him in Cordovan, with double-stitching at the stress-points and lower ends, full grain, fine natural texture.
Rounded tight-snap clasps for every pocket.
Hard and firm at the ball of the foot.
Before the ten-inch spikes.
And pinching toes.

It's smooth and silky, for that superb look.
A high-fashion accoutrement to envy.


Her bestial passions now fully aroused, she turns on the Real Housewives, then grabs an enormous bag of Nacho Cheese Chips, ready to enjoy several hours of ecstasy, delight, and ranch dip.
Occasionally, she'll squeal and pant.
Oooh, tacky rich people!

The man in her life, still entirely oblivious and in his leather costume, wanders into the kitchen to see if there's any more pizza.
It's very high quality leather, so it does not chafe.
And it actually feels rather nice.
Mmm, pizza!


Personally, I just don't see it. Somewhere in the last three decades we went from Humphrey Bogart to Justin Bieber as the be-all and end-all of manhood. It's very disturbing.

I'm not into purses, but I know how to make pizza.

So I'm probably safest observing females from the security of my kitchen, while they do weird things with snacks and designer crap behind iron bars somewhere. Unfortunately they are nothing like pizza.
They are dangerous, and unbalanced.
Frighteningly goofy.


Flour, yeast, olive oil. So smooth, so smooth! This dough looks and feels just like a shapely thigh as I kneed it, firmly, firmly. Now I'll ball it into a lovely breast-shape, to let it rest and rise in  a nice warm place.
Rich fresh red sauce, smooth and thick, spooned all over.
Crisp slivers of bell pepper and anchovies!

The key is heat and inspiration.


[Sweet nothings to whisper in her ear: Pikolino, Franco Sarto, Isabel Marant, Michelle D., Delman, Pantofola D'Oro, Liz Claiborne, Louis Vuitton...; Caparros, Sam Edelman, Charlotte Russe, Michael Kors, Appepaza, Guess Rexy, Via Spiga Janice Nude Patent, Fendi, Ciao Bella, Manolo Blahnik, Christian Louboutin, Cynthia Vincent, Bottega Veneta, Marc jacobs, Jimmy Choo...; Ferragamo, Prada, Miu Miu, Zanotti, Gucci, Pour La Victoire, Dolce & Gabbana, Brian Atwood, Chloe, Charles Jourdan, Roger Vivier, Gianmarco Lorenzi........ .]


Women are hardly ever in the mood, as so much needs to be perfect for them to be attuned. Whereas men are always ready for pizza.

That probably explains why men are happier.
Much more normal, in any case.

Mmm, pizza!




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