it seems that i might be in a unique position to contemplate the age-old question about what, exactly, do women want. think about it: i know intimately an awful lot about what they don't (or at least one doesn't). and, with the seemingly endless list of "volunteers" to help heap sympathy and kitchen accoutrements into my shopping cart, it would seem that there must be *something* about me right now that at least appears on its surface to indicate promising ground for female spelunkers to go searching for their gold. so all i need to do is figure it out, right?
not professing to be able to figure all that well, (divorce comes complete with heaping helpings of humility), nevertheless i can quite easily talk out loud, and leave the breadcrumbs there for others to follow. so here goes:
point number one: it can't be "single". oh, of course you could cite all sorts of evidence and beliefs, and make all sorts of impassioned pleas to the jury, but, hey, remember? i was the married guy getting it all over the place. it ain't single.
point number two: but it could very well be the illusion of single. recall my little fun at the expense of the "pang" lady. her territorial insecurities immediately warped her emotions around the "single" attribute, and it produced all sorts of squirrelly results when word passed lips about other vaginas in the vicinity. but remove those clues and cues from the conversation, and watch how quickly it all settles back into "won't you come to hawaii with me". (honest, i swear, she's got a place there and she'd volunteer me frequent flyer miles to get there, too). all i did was try to be nice on the phone the other day when she called. illusion. which you know it has to be, because any idjit, even the proverbial "blonde" kind, can see from my circumstances that i'm a prime rebound candidate with a profligate track record, and every indication is that future returns *will* be indicated by past results. but project me a little illusion, she says, and watch the table lamps from knocking over while the legs fly open. (i'm a misogynist, yeah, i know).
point number three: kids, puppies, and bachelorhood. you know the cliche about guys in the park with the cute puppies that all the cute bimbos want to pet. works great with cute little kids, too. something about that feminine nurturing gene, i think, that makes irresistible anything that needs taking care of. so, i think, the impulse goes double when it's the guy himself. i'm 47 for keereist's sake, i didn't get this far by not being able to sew on my own buttons. but i also then realize that some guys (mostly irish, i think, cuz i'm a nationalist/racist too ;-), really can arrive at this advanced age without ever having been cut past a pair of apron strings, whether maternal or otherwise. (ok, we know they're all maternal). so even just the whiff of not knowing what stuff to buy to stock a kitchen (by whiff, i mean, all it takes is the theoretical possibility that mom still irons my underwear) is sufficient to get the juices flowing. throw impaired by trying-really-hard laundry skills, and nowhere to go on major holidays for a home cooked meal, and you're going to need to fasten your seat belts. this ride is like a rocket sled.
point number four: sex. oh, yeah, you know it's there. that urge to have it. for twenty years guys have all been put through the wringer for our hormonal compulsion to procreate. shy, demure deferrals... "no means no" rejections... "not tonight i have a headache" indignities... guys have been beaten down, cowed and conditioned to live without it, and for the girls it's now all coming back to bite 'em. cuz they know now that they want it. they never thought they did, but as soon as the well dried up, they realized that they've become thirsty. so where is it going to come from? wait! there's a guy over there still with teeth AND hair!!! let's GET HIM!!!
now, i also realize there will be women reading this previous paragraph who have *always* wanted sex, and had it quite religiously for all these years, who think quite rightly that i'm talking out of my hind end, and that none of this really applies to them. (likely not the prior paragraphs either, as i've found a good correlation between sex and sanity among women, but you know this convolution isn't about sanity today, so we'll leave the exceptions out of it for now, and stick with the apparent majority). you're right, of course, but you know you've met these other women i'm talking about, and that it's not all ridiculous. (misogynist AND arrogant, yep).
point number five: availability. adam smith. the invisible hand. supply and demand. some guys are gay, some guys are dead, and some guys are too lazy to go get that viagra prescription. (see "cowed and conditioned" above). right from the start there was only a finite number of penises to be had, and every year sees just that many more taken out of circulation. (or, i suppose, you could move to india and china where they're birthing an extra one for every ten, but that's inconvenient). women live longer than men. and as the older ones predate down the chronological food chain, (yeah, demi moore may still be hot, but she's taking some twenty-nine-year-old's saturday night satisfaction out of circulation and not putting it back), there are only so many left to go around for the younger ones. and nature has seen to it that there's a fair amount of price elasticity to coital compulsions.
point number six: chaahhm. guys, who have said it all before, remember. there's a great and positive behavioral reward for sweet talking onesself into sex, and you gotta know that those brain pathways are reinforced to the point of permanence, at least with some guys. girls seem to like to hear it, too. (is that a learned behavior from the same sorts of sexual gratification circuits, i wonder?) "oh you sweet talkin' guy you". fwwwippppp. (that's the sound of panties hitting the floor, bedcovers being pulled back, and bodies diving into the sheets all at once).
point number seven: because it's there. what, do you mean i can't have that??? (climb that, buy that, you name that). then i have to have it!!!
point number eight: they don't know, can't tell you, (or won't), and will streak to the door if felt taken for granted, patronized or trivialized. (well, the self-respecting ones will... a lot of 'em will just lie there and take it, too). but if you nod your head at the right points in the conversation, and make them feel appreciated, treasured and loved, they will put out like champions.
so why is all this???
heck if i know. but you can bet for sure i'm gonna be gettin' some, even if just by accident.