Hi, everyone. Trying to get back in the swing and at least skim a stone across all of my daily subsets.
Today is Wednesday, so it is time for some Hump Day Humor.
Men are Dogs and… Walk Them
I was driving to school this past week, and it was early. I mean, sun barely coming up even with daylight savings, early. I enjoy this time of the day as it is silent, contemplative. It is also a time to think of musings, notions, and critiques.
Lost in thought, I saw a man walking a dog towards me. Now, that is protocol, as walkers are supposed to stay on the shoulder and go against traffic. His adherence to the law was not what struck me. It was the look of absolute resignation and disgust on his face. He did not want to be up. He did not want to be on the street. He did not want to take this animal for its morning defecation.
If his face blazoned all of these regrets, the question is why was he doing it? I don’t have a complex answer, but I have a simple one. He was trying to curry favor with his significant other. He was stockpiling chips for the next time that he requested carnal relations.
You’re a pig, P. No, I am a dog. Hear me out. Social mores and decorum make monogamy and fidelity the cornerstones of a committed relationship. Horror movies prove that if you are promiscuous or unfaithful, bad things happen to you, most likely in the first third of the movie.
This dog walker, like me, and probably most men, acquiesce to chores, trips to the mall, “honey do” lists and picking out paint colors as a simple, often draining, quid pro quo. Like dogs, we have a constant sex drive. Unlike dogs, we think about it every 8 seconds. Wonder how anything gets done.
My Story, “His Story?”
Now, I speak for myself, so you can land on the spectrum anywhere that fits. I am in my fifties, so my desires have been diluted a bit. I, however, do think about sex often.
John Gray had a bestseller that told us we are built different, and I have found that true. Comedian Leanne Morgan said her husband likes two things “a clean house and sex. Aren’t I lucky?” Don’t know about her luck, but I bet she is not alone. (See what I did there?)
Eileen loves a clean house, but I like three things, sex, travel, and sex when I travel. A lie. I do like to eat. A simple man with simple pleasures, but I have spent many a day at Yankee Candle, Bed Bath and Beyond, and scrubbing toilets with some sense of filial duty, but mostly in the hope that I was buying some future, “love coupons.”
Everyone is different, making every relationships different, but passing this man, at the crack of dawn, I recognized the face of earnest endeavor hiding an unreleased sexual tension. I can craft his inner monologue: “If I complete this task without complaint, there is a chance for some connubial relations, or at least, a discussion about said topic from a firmer foundation.”
Eileen has been pining for a dog, a Saint Bernard no less. She is selling me on how I will love it and embrace it as my own. What I foresee, is some begrudging, pent-up, sunrise walks while a humongous dog drags me into the weeds. I foresee someone passing me on the road and shaking their head in understanding and commiseration. On the bright side, it will allow me a bit more bargaining power, and may preclude me from the next trip to Ikea.
Love and laughter,
P.