The old adage states that, “Women are cats and men are dogs!“, This can be taken a variety of ways depending on which side the ‘sitter’s‘ and ‘pointer’s‘ you happen to be on. And certainly the particular mores of the era that favors one or the other. For my money things are bit less complex and very less than genteel than this old maxim suggests. That is if you ARE on the receiving end. I am sure both sides have something in personal experience to bemoan. But in my own case it is that ever persistent general lack of regard that women so very often afford men. Men after all to this sisterhood of thought are a commodity. Consider that to many of them, their male counterpart is a conveyance. One that is expected to instantly provide many facets without reservation. An emotional Swiss army knife offering concern, sympathy, and protection. As well as a bestial tool of lust driven satisfaction to rub away that occasional animal itch down from further below the palpitations of the heart. This current era, as popularized by the quickly atrophying mass media, being an Armageddon for carefree males. One that, even for that noble much vaunted class of Lothario’s [AKA., known colloquially as ‘bad boys’] can just as easily earn a bill hook to an eternity of court ordered spousal support for their one night of irresponsible sexual transgression. But that, of course, is the playing field at the extreme of our hapless gender. The side that I am most concerned with, one that I myself hold a much faded time weary union card to, being that of the lowly goodhearted ‘dumb schmuck‘. The kind of guy that gets so easily loaded up with female histrionics like a fat drunken Santa Claus on the eve of December 24th. But then has that massive attack of delirium tremens promptly on the first of January when he busily launders the latest, her majesty’s shoe prints off the back of his shirt. Simply put, women have no real world sense of conscience when it comes to taking plunder from any willing male. Their own over generous self-forgiveness providing quick excuses for giving little, if anything, back in return. As if this behavior is a god-given right that has been handed down to them by Queen Isis herself. A blind spot in moral consciousness if there ever was one. Something that very quickly becomes tedious and tiresome to any rational male with his head on straight.
There seems no ability by any member of that far end of the species to identify or cure this flaw. A genetic implant that by its ability to get away Scot Free, runs through the same old sequence of steps from a brief virginal period. Of the proverbial mother goddess style of entrapment supposedly fulfilling every male fantasy [as much as any female mind can comprehend]. To the remainder of the duration of cohabitation where they become the center of attention as a metaphorical toaster consecutively popping out the next generation of offspring, slice after slice buttered up. Then the waters of the Red Sea between their legs becoming a much narrower Suez charging ever more exorbitant rates for passage to a much less enthusiastic land of faded epiphanies. The immediacy of the world as a whole in their midst expected to rotate around them as their smallest whim. Or swiftly suffer the mounting volcanic firestorm of an ever vengeful goddess Kali. If for any reason this potent potion of building estrogen unbounded is in any way interfered with, then their interest quickly wanes to paint a gray picture of their being some fatally wronged incarnation of Anna Karenina. That groveling ‘schmuck in waiting‘ usually growing sour despite that all too rapidly fading rusty invocation of his dear mother’s voice, “For everyone, there is someone!”
“Hah!” The adage quickly faded into mental exhaustion from the cagey feline’s never ending bag of self-serving tricks. That initial overt display of gentlemanly respect and judicious good behavior that was initially offered, now in hindsight mere foolishness on his part, after his prospective mate’s quick transformation into a Medusa. A self-imposed facial Psy-Op of the poor dumb fool that leaves him wondering why he was born without the tool set and inclination to turn the tables and make the other gender suffer? Something as ‘macho’ in line with his better endowed male rivals. Those poor dumb canines nursing their facial scratches while the most indifferent local kitty licks the blood off her claws. Without that constant emotional drumming of genetic based corporal lust captivating the psyche of the former to entrance the latter, the entire species would quickly die out. And in fact, current statistics now show just that! One need not wonder much why in former millennia, castles were routinely assaulted , women carried away to be raped ‘en masse‘ and men off on their merry way to the next prize to plunder. It was just simply much easier for all parties concerned! The women got new homes with more children to raise. And those most successful at invasion got their rocks off moving from town to town with nary a care! The ‘iron boot‘ in our present era being upon the other foot.
The experience of this author, in light of hindsight, being recalled as one disaster after another. Spilled milk and high hanging grapes far up the tree aside, the usual pattern being the usual semblance of possibility quickly brought crashing down to the cold lack of comfort of uncompromising realities. The emotional immaturity and self-centeredness of females seemingly an un-detachable built-in mechanism. Something incapable of having regard for sincerity or mutuality. “My way or the highway!“, the clarion call ever under wraps of the current romantic pretender who now has very quickly tired of passing out favors or attention and shared concern as their claws seem well set. Certainly not that faded picture long ago painted of someone faithful and true, that like every childhood fairy tale, quickly evaporated two steps beyond of infancy. If this assessment seems a bitter and childish? Then I might point to the abysmal statistics on the bilious sanctity of marriage. Something long freed from the carrot and stick approach of an adherence to religious dogma for life. Something that has resulted in a carefree lifestyle for females. And a corresponding ‘ball and chain‘ life experience for males. And God forbid that children show their unruly little heads in the game. The only thing that can be said for the human race combined as a whole being that we all to quickly live for the prolonged fantasy but eventually die off in the wake of its absence.